A broad oak staircase led up from the hall into lighter regions, and there stood, on a landing above, a lean, wheezy old clock, all over brass knobs, which, as he looked on it, choked, and sneezed four.
But now there was a new sound in the house.

An indecent, secular sound.
A door near the top of the house was burst violently open, and there was a scuffle.

A loud voice shouted twice unmistakeably and distinctly, "So--o, good bitch!" And then the astounded Tom heard the worrying of a terrier, and the squeak of a dying rat.

There was no mistake about it; he heard the bones crack.

Then he made out that a dog was induced to go into a room on false pretences, and deftly shut up there, and then he heard a heavy step descending the stairs towards him.
But, before there was time for the perpetrator of these sacrileges to come in sight, a side door opened, and the Bishop himself came forth with a letter in his hand (a mild, clever, gentlemanly-looking man he was too, Tom remarked) and said,-- "Pray is there not a messenger from Drumston here ?" Tom replied that he had brought a letter from his cousin the Vicar.