"Well, what about it? Where's the boot?" he demanded, sharply. "The boy inquired, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, indicating the messenger with his open hand, and undertaking the office of spokesman; "and Mr. Armagnac did not send for the boot, Sir, and has not got it." "Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon Charles, "what have _you_ got to say for yourself?" "The man said he came from Mr. Armagnac, please, Sir," said Charles, "and wanted the boot, which Mr. Franklin should have back as early as he could return it." "Then you gave it to a common thief with that cock-and-a-bull story, and you wish me to believe that you took it all for gospel. There are men who would pitch you over the bannisters for a less thing. If I could be certain of it, I'd put you beside him in the dock. But, by heavens! I'll come to the bottom of the whole thing yet." He shut the door with a crash, in the faces of the three men, who stood on the lobby. Mr. Franklin was a little puzzled at these transports, all about a boot. The servants looked at one another without a word. But just as they were going down, the dressing-room door opened, and the following dialogue ensued:-- "See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?" said Longcluse. "Yes, Sir." "Should you know him again?" "Yes, Sir, I think I should." "What kind of man was he?" "A very common person, Sir." "Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?" "Tall, Sir." "Go on; what more? Describe him." "Tall, Sir, with a long neck, and held himself straight; very flat feet, I noticed; a thin man, broad in the shoulders--pretty well that." "Describe his face," said Longcluse. "Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face--a bad colour." "How?" "A bad white, Sir, and pock-marked something; a broad face and flat, and a very little bit of a nose; his eyes almost shut, and a sort of smile about his mouth, and stingy bits of red whiskers, in a curl, down each cheek." "How old?" "He might be nigh fifty, Sir." "Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?" "Black frock coat, Sir, a good deal worn; an old flowered satin waistcoat, worn and dirty, Sir; and a pair of raither dirty tweed trousers. Nothing fitted him, and his hat was brown and greasy, begging your parding, Sir; and he had a stick in his hand, and cotton gloves--a-trying to look genteel." "And he asked for the right boot?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "Yes, Sir." "You are quite sure of that? Did he take the boot without looking at it, or did he examine it before he took it away?" "He looked at it sharp enough, Sir, and turned up the sole, and he said 'It's all right,' and he went away, taking it along with him." "He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night--which did he say?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "I think it was last night he said, Sir," answered Charles. "Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which was it?" "I think it was _last night_, Sir, he said."