'A very soft knock; and, by your leave, my lady, I may yet steal upon you unawares.

Soho!' A very low and gentle rap received no answer from within.

But after a second application to the knocker, no louder than the first, the door was softly opened by the boy from the wharf, whom Quilp instantly gagged with one hand, and dragged into the street with the other.
'You'll throttle me, master,' whispered the boy.

'Let go, will you.' 'Who's up stairs, you dog ?' retorted Quilp in the same tone.

'Tell me.
And don't speak above your breath, or I'll choke you in good earnest.' The boy could only point to the window, and reply with a stifled giggle, expressive of such intense enjoyment, that Quilp clutched him by the throat and might have carried his threat into execution, or at least have made very good progress towards that end, but for the boy's nimbly extricating himself from his grasp, and fortifying himself behind the nearest post, at which, after some fruitless attempts to catch him by the hair of the head, his master was obliged to come to a parley.
'Will you answer me ?' said Quilp.