Nichol. It is Mistress Corbet."
Nichol had recovered himself, but was furiously angry.
"Very good, madam, but I have these papers now," he said, "they can still
be read."
"You blind idiot," hissed Mary, "do you not know lute music when you see
it?"
"I know that ladies do not burn lute music with locked doors," observed
Nichol bitterly.
"The more fool you!" screamed Mary, "when you have caught one at it."
"That will be seen," sneered Mr. Nichol.
"Not by a damned blind scarlet-faced porpoise!" screamed Mary, apparently
more in a passion than ever, and a burst of laughter came from the men.
This was too much for Mr. Nichol. This coarse abuse stung him cruelly.
"God's blood," he bellowed at the room; "take this vixen out and search
the place." And a torrent of oaths drove the crowd about the door out
into the passage again.
A couple of men took Mary by the fierce ringed hands of hers that still
twitched and clenched, and led her out; she spat insults over her
shoulders as she went. But she had held him in talk as she intended.
"Now then," roared Nichol again, "search, you dogs!"
He himself went outside too, and seeing the stairs stamped up them. He
was just in time to see the Tacitus settle down with crumpled pages;
stopped for a moment, bewildered, for it lay in the middle of the
passage; and then rushed at the open door on the left, dashed it open,
and found a little empty room, with a chair or two, and a table--but no
sign of the priest.
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