I went to make the bed after breakfast, and the door was locked; and not a mouse to be heard; and it's been just so silent ever since.

But I thought, may be, you had both gone off and locked your baggage in for safe keeping.

La! la, ma'am!--Mistress! murder! Mrs.
Hussey! apoplexy!"-- and with these cries, she ran towards the kitchen, I following.
Mrs.Hussey soon appeared, with a mustard-pot in one hand and a vinegar-cruet in the other, having just broken away from the occupation of attending to the castors, and scolding her little black boy meantime.
"Wood-house!" cried I, "which way to it?
Run for God's sake, and fetch something to pry open the door--the axe!--the axe! he's had a stroke; depend upon it!"-- and so saying I was unmethodically rushing up stairs again empty-handed, when Mrs.Hussey interposed the mustard-pot and vinegar-cruet, and the entire castor of her countenance.
"What's the matter with you, young man ?" "Get the axe! For God's sake, run for the doctor, some one, while I pry it open!" "Look here," said the landlady, quickly putting down the vinegar-cruet, so as to have one hand free; "look here; are you talking about prying open any of my doors ?"--and with that she seized my arm.

"What's the matter with you?
What's the matter with you, shipmate ?" In as calm, but rapid a manner as possible, I gave her to understand the whole case.

Unconsciously clapping the vinegar-cruet to one side of her nose, she ruminated for an instant; then exclaimed--"No! I haven't seen it since I put it there." Running to a little closet under the landing of the stairs, she glanced in, and returning, told me that Queequeg's harpoon was missing.