When Smallbones had retired, with the empty bread-bags under his arm, he
remained some time reflecting at the porch, and then having apparently
made up his mind, he walked to a chandler's shop just over the bridge of
the canal opposite, and purchased a needle, some strong twine, and a
red-herring. He also procured, "without purchase," as they say in our
War Office Gazettes, a few pieces of stick. Having obtained all these,
he went round to the door of the yard behind the widow's house, and let
himself in. Little did Mr Vanslyperken imagine what mischief was
brewing, while he was praising and drinking the beer of the widow's
own brewing.
Smallbones had no difficulty in finding out where Snarleyyow was
confined, for the dog was very busy gnawing his way through the door,
which, however, was a work of time, and not yet a quarter accomplished.
The place had been a fowl-house, and, at the bottom of the door, there
was a small hatch for the ingress and egress of these bipeds, the
original invention of some thrifty spinster, to prevent the maids from
stealing eggs. But this hatch was closed, or Snarleyyow would have
escaped through it.
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