‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Where?’ ‘Here;’ and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs appeared at the staircase window, like the ghost of Queen Anne in the tent scene in Richard. ‘This way, Mrs. Tibbs,’ whispered the delighted busybody: ‘give me your hand—there! Whoever these people are, they are in the store-room now, for I have been looking down from my window, and I could see that they accidentally upset their candlestick, and are now in darkness. You have no shoes on, have you?’ ‘No,’ said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak for trembling. ‘Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go down, close to the store-room door, and listen over the banisters;’ and down-stairs they both crept accordingly, every board creaking like a patent mangle on a Saturday afternoon. ‘It’s Wisbottle and somebody, I’ll swear,’ exclaimed the radical in an energetic whisper, when they had listened for a few moments. ‘Hush—pray let’s hear what they say!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, the gratification of whose curiosity was now paramount to every other consideration. ‘Ah! if I could but believe you,’ said a female voice coquettishly, ‘I’d be bound to settle my missis for life.’ ‘What does she say?’ inquired Mr. Evenson, who was not quite so well situated as his companion. ‘She says she’ll settle her missis’s life,’ replied Mrs. Tibbs. ‘The wretch! they’re plotting murder.’ ‘I know you want money,’ continued the voice, which belonged to Agnes; ‘and if you’d secure me the five hundred pound, I warrant she should take fire soon enough.’ ‘What’s that?’ inquired Evenson again. He could just hear enough to want to hear more. ‘I think she says she’ll set the house on fire,’ replied the affrighted Mrs. Tibbs. ‘But thank God I’m insured in the Phoenix!’ ‘The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear,’ said a man’s voice in a strong Irish brogue, ‘you may depend on having the money.’ ‘Bless my soul, it’s Mr. O’Bleary!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs, in a parenthesis. ‘The villain!’ said the indignant Mr. Evenson. ‘The first thing to be done,’ continued the Hibernian, ‘is to poison Mr. Gobler’s mind.’ ‘Oh, certainly,’ returned Agnes. ‘What’s that?’ inquired Evenson again, in an agony of curiosity and a whisper. ‘He says she’s to mind and poison Mr. Gobler,’ replied Mrs. Tibbs, aghast at this sacrifice of human life. ‘And in regard of Mrs. Tibbs,’ continued O’Bleary.—Mrs. Tibbs shuddered. ‘Hush!’ exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatest alarm, just as Mrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of a fainting fit. ‘Hush!’ ‘Hush!’ exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment to Mrs. Tibbs. ‘There’s somebody coming _up_-stairs,’ said Agnes to O’Bleary. ‘There’s somebody coming _down_-stairs,’ whispered Evenson to Mrs. Tibbs. ‘Go into the parlour, sir,’ said Agnes to her companion. ‘You will get there, before whoever it is, gets to the top of the kitchen stairs.’