'All taut and trim here.

Those lines and stays shall be rigged before you turn out in the morning.

May I take this short cut home, and say good-night ?' 'Mr.Tartar!' urged Neville.

'Pray! It makes me giddy to see you!' But Mr.Tartar, with a wave of his hand and the deftness of a cat, had already dipped through his scuttle of scarlet runners without breaking a leaf, and 'gone below.' Mr.Grewgious, his bedroom window-blind held aside with his hand, happened at the moment to have Neville's chambers under his eye for the last time that night.

Fortunately his eye was on the front of the house and not the back, or this remarkable appearance and disappearance might have broken his rest as a phenomenon.