There's one gone to the back-door, and there's one talkin' to Mrs.
Hope at the front.'
'Then they've followed Pennyloaf,' he replied, in a tone of despair.
'They've followed Pennyloaf.'
It was the truth. She had been watched all day, and was now tracked
to Shooter's Gardens, to this house. Mrs. Candy struck a match, and
for an instant illuminated the wretched room; she looked at the two,
and they at length saw each other's faces. Then the little flame was
extinguished, and a red spot marked the place where the remnant of
the match lay.
'Shall I light the candle?' the woman asked in a whisper.
Neither replied, for there was a heavy foot on the stairs. It came
nearer. A hand tried the door, then knocked loudly.
'Mrs. Candy,' cried a stranger.
The three crouched together, terror-stricken, holding their breath.
Pennyloaf pressed her husband in an agonised embrace.
'Mrs. Candy, you're wanted on business. Open the door. If you don't
open, we shall force it.'
'No--no!' Pennyloaf whispered in her mother's ear. 'They shan't
come in! Don't stir.'
'Are you going to open the door?'
It was a different speaker--brief, stern.
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