Hunched up in a chair, opposite the woman, sat a snoring man.
"Come!" said Sir Tancred.

"I want no nonsense! Where's the child ?" A dull, muddled rage gathered in the woman's eyes; she made an effort to rise on quite irresponsive legs.

"Halbut!" she howled.

"Halbut, wake up! Here's a thief an' a burglar trying to steal the brat!" The man grunted, and jerked out of his sleep with the mystic word, "Washishish ?" "It'sh burglarsh, Halbut!" cried the woman, who seemed suddenly to see two or more Sir Tancreds.

"They're shtealing bratsh! Bash 'em!" Halbut jerked onto his feet, and stood lurching: "Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said, with a ferocity which petered out in an idiotic grin.
"Thash it! Bash 'em!" cried the woman.
Halbut advanced in a circular movement on Sir Tancred, with his fists up; "Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said firmly.
Sir Tancred lunged smartly at his chest with his cane; and he tumbled down with his face to the wall.
"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said drowsily to the wainscot, and was still.
Sir Tancred took the woman gingerly by the shoulder, and gave her a shake.