A
moment's observation of the room was all she dared risk, and, softly
closing the door again, she returned to the kitchen regions.
The truckle-bed, and the strange position in which it was placed, dwelt
on her mind all through the afternoon. Who could possibly sleep in it?
The remembrance of the red fisherman's cap, and the knowledge she had
already gained of Mazey's dog-like fidelity to his master, helped her to
guess that the old sailor might be the occupant of the truckle-bed. But
why, with bedrooms enough and to spare, should he occupy that cold and
comfortless situation at night? Why should he sleep on guard outside his
master's door? Was there some nocturnal danger in the house of which the
admiral was afraid? The question seemed absurd, and yet the position of
the bed forced it irresistibly on her mind.
Stimulated by her own ungovernable curiosity on this subject, Magdalen
ventured to question the housekeeper. She acknowledged having walked
from end to end of the passage on the second floor, to see if it was as
long as the passage on the first; and she mentioned having noticed with
astonishment the position of the truckle-bed. Mrs. Drake answered her
implied inquiry shortly and sharply.
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