They found it with little difficulty. It was a small side street, of
somewhat unprepossessing appearance, leading out of Beauchamp
Street. Bennet, boot-maker and umbrella-maker, had a dark, dingy
little shop just at the corner. It had evidently been an ordinary
dwelling-house in old times, but a bow window had been added to
transform it into a shop. A flight of broken steps led to the
basement, where the cobbler and his household lived; but as they
carefully descended, Malcolm suddenly paused.
"What on earth is that noise?" he asked in a puzzled tone. And Anna,
drawing her dainty white skirts closely round her, stood still to
listen.
It was certainly an extraordinary combination of sounds. It seemed
at first as though two people were singing a duet in different tunes
and without any regard to time; there was persistent melody and yet
there was utter discord, and it seemed accompanied by the clanging
of fire-irons.
Presently Anna began to laugh. "Do let us go in and see what it
means," she whispered. "Somebody--a man, I think--is singing 'Rule
Britannia' and 'Hark, hark, my soul' by turns, and there is a woman
talking or scolding at the same time.
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