The Complete Short Stories of Charles Dickens: 190+ Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Чарльз Диккенс

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.’

      ‘The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!’ whispered the astonished Evenson to his equally astonished companion; and for the drawing-room they both made, plainly hearing the rustling of two persons, one coming down-stairs, and one coming up.

      ‘What can it be?’ exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs. ‘It’s like a dream. I wouldn’t be found in this situation for the world!’

      ‘Nor I,’ returned Evenson, who could never bear a joke at his own expense. ‘Hush! here they are at the door.’

      ‘What fun!’ whispered one of the new-comers.—It was Wisbottle.

      ‘Glorious!’ replied his companion, in an equally low tone.—This was Alfred Tomkins. ‘Who would have thought it?’

      ‘I told you so,’ said Wisbottle, in a most knowing whisper. ‘Lord bless you, he has paid her most extraordinary attention for the last two months. I saw ’em when I was sitting at the piano to-night.’

      ‘Well, do you know I didn’t notice it?’ interrupted Tomkins.

      ‘Not notice it!’ continued Wisbottle. ‘Bless you; I saw him whispering to her, and she crying; and then I’ll swear I heard him say something about to-night when we were all in bed.’

      ‘They’re talking of us!’ exclaimed the agonised Mrs. Tibbs, as the painful suspicion, and a sense of their situation, flashed upon her mind.

      ‘I know it—I know it,’ replied Evenson, with a melancholy consciousness that there was no mode of escape.

      ‘What’s to be done? we cannot both stop here!’ ejaculated Mrs. Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement.

      ‘I’ll get up the chimney,’ replied Evenson, who really meant what he said.

      ‘You can’t,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. ‘You can’t—it’s a register stove.’

      ‘Hush!’ repeated John Evenson.

      ‘Hush—hush!’ cried somebody down-stairs.

      ‘What a d-d hushing!’ said Alfred Tomkins, who began to get rather bewildered.

      ‘There they are!’ exclaimed the sapient Wisbottle, as a rustling noise was heard in the store-room.

      ‘Hark!’ whispered both the young men.

      ‘Hark!’ repeated Mrs. Tibbs and Evenson.

      ‘Let me alone, sir,’ said a female voice in the store-room.

      ‘Oh, Hagnes!’ cried another voice, which clearly belonged to Tibbs, for nobody else ever owned one like it, ‘Oh, Hagnes—lovely creature!’

      ‘Be quiet, sir!’ (A bounce.)

      ‘Hag—’

      ‘Be quiet, sir—I am ashamed of you. Think of your wife, Mr. Tibbs. Be quiet, sir!’

      ‘My wife!’ exclaimed the valorous Tibbs, who was clearly under the influence of gin-and-water, and a misplaced attachment; ‘I ate her! Oh, Hagnes! when I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred and—’

      ‘I declare I’ll scream. Be quiet, sir, will you?’ (Another bounce and a scuffle.)

      ‘What’s that?’ exclaimed Tibbs, with a start.

      ‘What’s what?’ said Agnes, stopping short.

      ‘Why that!’

      ‘Ah! you have done it nicely now, sir,’ sobbed the frightened Agnes, as a tapping was heard at Mrs. Tibbs’s bedroom door, which would have beaten any dozen woodpeckers hollow.

      ‘Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!’ called out Mrs. Bloss. ‘Mrs. Tibbs, pray get up.’ (Here the imitation of a woodpecker was resumed with tenfold violence.)

      ‘Oh, dear—dear!’ exclaimed the wretched partner of the depraved Tibbs. ‘She’s knocking at my door. We must be discovered! What will they think?’

      ‘Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!’ screamed the woodpecker again.

      ‘What’s the matter!’ shouted Gobler, bursting out of the back drawing-room, like the dragon at Astley’s.

      ‘Oh, Mr. Gobler!’ cried Mrs. Bloss, with a proper approximation to hysterics; ‘I think the house is on fire, or else there’s thieves in it. I have heard the most dreadful noises!’

      ‘The devil you have!’ shouted Gobler again, bouncing back into his den, in happy imitation of the aforesaid dragon, and returning immediately with a lighted candle. ‘Why, what’s this? Wisbottle! Tomkins! СКАЧАТЬ