The articles of the friendly move are then severally recited and agreed upon. They are but secrecy, fidelity, and perseverance. The Bower to be always free of access to Mr. Venus for his researches, and every precaution to be taken against their attracting observation in the neighbourhood.
“There’s a footstep!” exclaims Venus.
“Where?” cries Wegg, starting.
“Outside. St. !”
They are in the act of ratifying the treaty of friendly move, by shaking hands upon it. They softly break off, light their pipes which have gone out, and lean back in their chairs. No doubt, a footstep. It approaches the window, and a hand taps at the glass. “Come in!” calls Wegg; meaning come round by the door. But the heavy old-fashioned sash is slowly raised, and a head slowly looks in out of the dark background of night.
“Pray is Mr. Silas Wegg here? Oh! I see him!”
The friendly movers might not have been quite at their ease, even though the visitor had entered in the usual manner. But, leaning on the breast-high window, and staring in out of the darkness, they find the visitor extremely embarrassing. Especially Mr. Venus: who removes his pipe, draws back his head, and stares at the starer, as if it were his own Hindu baby come to fetch him home.
“Good evening, Mr. Wegg. The yard gate-lock should be looked to, if you please; it don’t catch.”
“Is it Mr. Rokesmith?” falters Wegg.