The crucial moment came. Jane and 'Moll' scurried across the yard like
rabbits, but stopped at the porch door with well-simulated surprise at the
sight of the dragoons.
"Gom, I thawt 'e'd set the house a-fire," said Jane thankfully,
addressing the company at large, and she bravely bustled through and
shrilled at me, "At it again, when your mother's out; y'd better get off
to bed afore she comes in. She'll drunk yer."
Jane's acting was so much better than mine that I nearly lost my head at
being thus crudely accused before 'Moll,' but she went on remorselessly,
addressing the dragoon, "Dunna upset him for God's sake, Master Squaddy.
'E'm a hell-hound when 'e'm gotten a sup of beer in'im."
"Don't trouble, my good girl. I'm used to his sort. Leave him to me and
answer my questions. The truth or the jail, my girl."
"Yow," sniffed Jane, "he'd snap yow in two like a carrot. Bed's best
place for 'im. He's as wet as thatch with his silly jacking."
"Jane," said I, "never mind me. I'm neither dry enough nor drunk enough
to go to bed yet. Captain here wants to ask you and Moll some questions.
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