"You knew that I was sorry not to do what you asked me to do?"
"Yes, I knew," she said.
They did not speak again.
They left the car at the garage and walked to the house. There had been failure in coöperation, for Smithfield evidently had not known of the expedition. The side door was locked, and so was the front door.
"I suppose I'd better ring," said Crane reluctantly. Somehow he was not eager to face Smithfield's cold, reproving glance.
"No, follow me," whispered Jane-Ellen.
She led him to the kitchen entrance and pointed to a window.
"I don't believe that window has had a bolt for sixty years," she said.
"And to think," returned Crane, as he gently raised it, "that before I took the house I complained of its being out of repair."
He climbed in and opened the kitchen door for her. He had a match, and she knew the whereabouts of a candle. They still spoke in whispers. There was, of course, no real reason why they were so eager to let the household sleep undisturbed, yet they were obviously united in the resolution to make no unnecessary sound.