"The box shall not leave this house without Captain Armstrong's permission," said Mrs. Armstrong, who, poor as the light was, you could see carried a great deal of colour in her face of a streaky or venous nature; her eyes were small, and gazed with rapid winks as though they snapped at you as you snap the hammer of a revolver; her bust was immense; her black hair was smoothed like streaks of paint down her cheeks and round her ears, and she wore a cap with something in it that nodded, giving more significance to her words than they needed. "Where is Captain Armstrong?" said the sailor. "Out," was the reply. "He'll not care whether I take it or leave it." He could not bring himself to speak even civilly to her. "Whilst you fetch him we'll tranship it, and the captain can get in and argue the point whilst we drive away. Come along, Bax. Sally, show us the road to the young lady's bedroom." "Maria," exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, cold and bitter, "go and knock on Constable Rogers's door, and tell him to come here at once." "Shall I fetch the master also?" said Maria, quivering in her figure in the hot anticipation of rushing out. "No, the walk is too long. I want you back, and the constable." The girl shot up the walk. "Bax," said Hardy, "come along. We'll easily find the room." Bax hung in the wind. "What's the constable a-going to say?" he muttered. "Won't it be breaking in if we enters without the missis's leave?" Hardy looked at him, and then stepped to the foot of the staircase. "You dare not go up-stairs, sir!" said Mrs. Armstrong, in a voice that trembled. Hardy mounted. "The constable shall lock you up," shrieked the enraged woman. "Coom down, coom down, Mr. Hardy," sang out Bax. "The constable'll make it right." Hardy pulled out a box of wax matches and struck one. The landing was in darkness, and he wanted to see. He guessed the girl's bedroom by intuition, opened the door, and saw the trunk--a small one--seized the handle, and dragged it to the head of the staircase. It was lighter than a sea chest, and with a heave he settled it on his shoulder, and went creaking down-stairs. "I defy you to take that box out of my house without my leave," yelled Mrs. Armstrong. Hardy seemed cool, but his spirits were in a blaze. He regarded the sending for a constable as an atrocious act of insolence, and he walked past the woman, not in the smallest degree caring whether he plunged the corner of the box into her head or not. She took care, however, to give him a wide berth, and he passed through the house door, whilst the little dog barked furiously at a safe distance at the end of the passage. "Give me a hand with this," said he to Bax. "This is no business of the constable. The box belongs to a young lady who wants it, and I intend that she shall have it."