'If you please I can't make nobody hear,' said Tilly, looking
round. 'I hope nobody an't gone and been and died if you please!'

This philanthropic wish, Miss Slowboy emphasised with various new
raps and kicks at the door; which led to no result whatever.

'Shall I go?' said Tackleton. 'It's curious.'

The Carrier, who had turned his face from the door, signed to him
to go if he would.

So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy's relief; and he too kicked and
knocked; and he too failed to get the least reply. But he thought
of trying the handle of the door; and as it opened easily, he
peeped in, looked in, went in, and soon came running out again.

'John Peerybingle,' said Tackleton, in his ear. 'I hope there has
been nothing--nothing rash in the night?'

The Carrier turned upon him quickly.

'Because he's gone!' said Tackleton; 'and the window's open. I
don't see any marks--to be sure it's almost on a level with the
garden: but I was afraid there might have been some--some scuffle.
Eh?'

He nearly shut up the expressive eye altogether; he looked at him
so hard. And he gave his eye, and his face, and his whole person,
a sharp twist. As if he would have screwed the truth out of him.