Mr. Ketch felt a little staggered. His belief had been that Jenkins had
come up silently, and dashed the keys from his hand; but Jenkins, it
appeared, had not left the window. However, like too many other
cross-grained spirits, he persisted in venting blame upon him.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, to play an old man such a trick?"

"I have played no trick," said Jenkins. "I thought I saw a glowworm,
and I stopped to look; but I couldn't see it again. There's no trick in
that."

"Ugh!" cried the porter in his wrath. "You took and clutched the keys
from me, and throwed 'em on the ground! Pick 'em up."

"Well, I never heard the like!" said Jenkins. "I was not within yards
and yards of you. If you dropped the keys it was no fault of mine."
But, being a peaceably-inclined man, he stooped and found the keys.

The porter grunted. An inner current of conviction rose in his heart
that he must undoubtedly have dropped them, though he could have
declared at the time that they were mysteriously snatched from him. He
seized the string firmly now, and hobbled on to the west door, abusing
Jenkins all the way.

They arrived at the west door, which was gained by a narrow closed
passage from the gate of entrance, as was the south door in a similar
manner; and there Mr. Ketch used his eyes and his tongue considerably,
for the door, instead of being open, as he had left it, was shut and
locked.