The sound was that of beating on the outside of the stout
door, softly and regularly, 'with the flat of the hand.' He was going to
open it suddenly, but changed his mind; and went back very quietly, and
on to the head of the kitchen stair, where was a 'strong closet' over
the pantry, in which he kept his firearms, swords, and canes.
Here he called his man-servant, whom he believed to be honest, and, with
a pair of loaded pistols in his own coat-pockets, and giving another
pair to him, he went as lightly as he could, followed by the man, and
with a stout walking-cane in his hand, forward to the door.
Everything went as Mr. Prosser wished. The besieger of his house, so far
from taking fright at their approach, grew more impatient; and the sort
of patting which had aroused his attention at first assumed the rhythm
and emphasis of a series of double-knocks.
Mr. Prosser, angry, opened the door with his right arm across, cane in
hand. Looking, he saw nothing; but his arm was jerked up oddly, as it
might be with the hollow of a hand, and something passed under it, with
a kind of gentle squeeze. The servant neither saw nor felt anything, and
did not know why his master looked back so hastily, cutting with his
cane, and shutting the door with so sudden a slam.
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