We were in a very uncomfortable
position.
Long after we had gone to bed Addison and I lay awake, talking of it in
low tones; we tried to recollect everything that had gone on at home
since the book was last seen. I dropped asleep at last, and probably
slept for two hours or more, when Addison shook me gently.
"Sh!" he whispered. "Don't speak. Some one is going downstairs."
Listening, I heard a stair creak, as if under a stealthy tread. Addison
slipped softly out of bed, and I followed him. Hastily donning some
clothes, we went into the hall on tiptoe and descended the stairs. The
door from the hall to the sitting-room was open, and also the door to
the kitchen. It was not a dark night; and without striking a light we
went out through the wood-house to the wagon-house, for we felt sure
that some one was astir out there. Just then we heard the outer door of
the wagon-house move very slowly and, stealing forward, discovered that
it was open about a foot. Still on tiptoe we drew near and were just in
time to see a person go out of sight down the lane that led to the road.
"Now who can that be?" Addison whispered. "Looks like a woman,
bareheaded.
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