CHAPTER XVIII.
Dick disappeared through the door by which he had entered so quickly that before Freda had had time to utter more than an exclamation, the rows of real books and sham ones were again unbroken, and the noise of a drawn bolt told her that it was of no use for her to try to follow him.
She sat down again in a tumult of agitated feelings. Her heart felt drawn out to this young fellow with what she thought must be gratitude for his kindness. She looked with vivid interest at the various spots in the room on which he had stood, and tried to imagine his figure in them again. She even crossed to the bookshelves, and laid her hand on the place where his had lain, and touched again the books which he had handed to her. She felt so sorry for him, so sure that in his share of the wicked enterprise of his cousin and her father, Dick had been little more than a victim. And then these musings gave place to more serious thoughts. She had two duties to perform; one was to tell Crispin that there really was a government emissary on the look out, the other was to warn John Thurley not to betray himself. This latter duty was, however, clearly impossible for her to fulfil without the aid of accident; but the former might be easier.
Now during all this time that Crispin had kept himself invisible to her eyes, the night-noises which had alarmed Freda so much at first had been continued regularly, with only this difference: that although she had crept out to watch the panel-door in the gallery, no one had passed through it, and no one had been visible in the courtyard. It seemed clear then, to the girl, that there must be, as Dick had said, some entrance to the house which she did not know of. To ascertain this beyond a doubt, she laid an ingenious plan, and night having by this time fallen, she proceeded to carry it out. For if, she said to herself, she could once find the door by which the nocturnal exits and entrances were made, she would not only be able to waylay Crispin as he came in or went out, but would have a very important weapon in her hand by this knowledge.
Freda had seen, in a corner of Mrs. Bean’s wash-house, a heap of silver sand. Watching her opportunity, she filled her skirt with this, slipped out, and making a careful tour of the house, stables, and outbuildings, she put two narrow lines of the sand before every door, including that by which Crispin had once carried her into the house. The snow had by this time melted or been swept away from the neighbourhood of all buildings, and in such places the ground had dried sufficiently for her purpose. To do her work the more thoroughly, she then went the round of the outer walls of the garden and enclosures, and repeated her sand-strewing before every door she found, and before the iron entrance gates. Then she crept back into the house, feeling pretty sure that she had been unseen in the moonless night, and went to bed, tired but full of excitement.
She was too restless to sleep, so presently she got up again, put on her dressing-gown, and waited eagerly for a repetition of the usual sounds. She was soon satisfied: first the distant mutterings, far underneath her feet, then the mounting of slow feet up stone steps; the voices subdued, but nearer; the moving of heavy burdens; a sound of weights falling; the chink of glasses; a low murmur of talk in men’s voices, the sounds gradually dying away. That was all. An hour, by the little clock on her mantelpiece, from the first sound to the last. Then all was quiet till morning, when Freda, after a disturbed night of short snatches of sleep, woke with a start to the memory of her undertaking. Ah! She had got them now! In an hour she would know all about it; she would be able to waylay and confront them, if she chose. And she almost thought she would choose.
Full of these ideas, Freda dressed hastily and ran downstairs. Nell was busy in the kitchen; the place was as deserted as usual. She stole out of the house with a loudly beating heart, feeling refreshed instead of chilled by the air of the keen March morning. Stealthily, with one eye on Nell’s quarters and one on her task, she began her tour, her excitement increasing as door after door was reached, and there was still no sign.
At last the tour was made, the inspection ended, in bitter disappointment.
For the sand before every door was undisturbed.