We have been moving chests of drawers over his head, we have knocked double knocks at the street-door, we have made the servant-girl fall down stairs several times (she's a light weight, and it don't hurt her much,) but nothing wakes him.' 'Perhaps a ladder,' suggested Dick, 'and getting in at the first-floor window--' 'But then there's a door between; besides, the neighbours would be up in arms,' said Brass.
'What do you say to getting on the roof of the house through the trap-door, and dropping down the chimney ?' suggested Dick.
'That would be an excellent plan,' said Brass, 'if anybody would be--' and here he looked very hard at Mr Swiveller--'would be kind, and friendly, and generous enough, to undertake it.

I dare say it would not be anything like as disagreeable as one supposes.' Dick had made the suggestion, thinking that the duty might possibly fall within Miss Sally's department.

As he said nothing further, and declined taking the hint, Mr Brass was fain to propose that they should go up stairs together, and make a last effort to awaken the sleeper by some less violent means, which, if they failed on this last trial, must positively be succeeded by stronger measures.

Mr Swiveller, assenting, armed himself with his stool and the large ruler, and repaired with his employer to the scene of action, where Miss Brass was already ringing a hand-bell with all her might, and yet without producing the smallest effect upon their mysterious lodger.
'There are his boots, Mr Richard!' said Brass.
'Very obstinate-looking articles they are too,' quoth Richard Swiveller.

And truly, they were as sturdy and bluff a pair of boots as one would wish to see; as firmly planted on the ground as if their owner's legs and feet had been in them; and seeming, with their broad soles and blunt toes, to hold possession of their place by main force.
'I can't see anything but the curtain of the bed,' said Brass, applying his eye to the keyhole of the door.