"Hollo! I say, who's there? Where the devil's Mr. Feltram?" called the
voice of the baronet, at a fierce pitch, along the passage.

"La! Mr. Feltram, it's him! Ye'd better run to him," whispered Mrs.
Julaper.

"D--n me! does nobody hear? Mrs. Julaper! Hollo! ho! house, there! ho!
D--n me, will nobody answer?"

And Sir Bale began to slap the wainscot fast and furiously with his
walking-cane with a clatter like a harlequin's lath in a pantomime.

Mrs. Julaper, a little paler than usual, opened her door, and stood with
the handle in her hand, making a little curtsey, enframed in the
door-case; and Sir Bale, being in a fume, when he saw her, ceased
whacking the panels of the corridor, and stamped on the floor, crying,

"Upon my soul, ma'am, I'm glad to see you! Perhaps you can tell me where
Feltram is?"

"He is in my room, Sir Bale. Shall I tell him you want him, please?"

"Never mind; thanks," said the Baronet. "I've a tongue in my head;"
marching down the passage to the housekeeper's room, with his cane
clutched hard, glaring savagely, and with his teeth fast set, like a
fellow advancing to beat a vicious horse that has chafed his temper.