The house had fallen into a dead silence ; a whole minute passed away , and nothing stirred but the bats overhead . I knocked again , and hearkened again . By this time my ears had grown so accustomed to the quiet , that I could hear the ticking of the clock inside as it slowly counted out the seconds ; but whoever was in that house kept deadly still , and must have held his breath . I was in two minds whether to run away ; but anger got the upper hand , and I began instead to rain kicks and buffets on the door , and to shout out aloud for Mr. Balfour . I was in full career , when I heard the cough right overhead , and jumping back and looking up , beheld a man 's head in a tall nightcap , and the bell mouth of a blunderbuss , at one of the first-storey windows . `` It 's loaded , '' said a voice . `` I have come here with a letter , '' I said , `` to Mr. Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws . Is he here ? '' `` From whom is it ? '' asked the man with the blunderbuss . `` That is neither here nor there , '' said I , for I was growing very wroth . `` Well , '' was the reply , `` ye can put it down upon the doorstep , and be off with ye . '' `` I will do no such thing , '' I cried . `` I will deliver it into Mr. Balfour 's hands , as it was meant I should . It is a letter of introduction . '' `` A what ? '' cried the voice , sharply . I repeated what I had said . `` Who are ye , yourself ? '' was the next question , after a considerable pause .
`` I am not ashamed of my name , '' said I. `` They call me David XXXXX . ''
Balfour Shaws blunderbuss breath doorstep minute nightcap right seconds ticking