The old man came in and Black Donald laughed to himself to hear with
what caution he locked, bolted and barred the doors to keep out
house-breakers!
"Ah, old fellow, you are fastening the stable after the horse has
been stolen!" said Black Donald to himself.
As soon as old Hurricane had passed by the closet in which the
outlaw was concealed, and had gone into the parlor, Black Donald
determined to risk the ascent into Capitola's chamber. From the
description given by his men, who had once succeeded in finding
their way thither, he knew very well where to go.
Noiselessly, therefore, he left his place of concealment and crept
out to reconnoitre the hall, which he found deserted.
Old Hurricane's shawl, hat and walking stick were deposited in one
corner. In case of being met on the way, he put the hat on his head,
wrapped the shawl around his shoulders, and took the stick in his
hand.
His forethought proved to be serviceable. He went through the hall
and up the first flight of stairs without interruption; but on going
along the hall of the second story he met Mrs. Condiment coming out
of Old Hurricane's room.
"Your slippers are on the hearth, your gown is at the fire and the
kettle is boiling to make your punch, Major Warfield," said the old
lady in passing.
"Umph! umph! umph!" grunted Black Donald in reply.
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