“That’s his daddy’s favorite,” Mrs. Muirhead informed them. “He sets great store by Honey, and went on like a wild creetur when he thought he was drownded. I’m sure we all never expected to see him again, and I’m in hopes some day I kin git over to Mis’ O’Neill’s and tell her how thankful I am to him and her for taking care of him.”
Agnes was too perturbed to talk much. She listened for the least sound. Every stir of a leaf seemed to her tense nerves to indicate the approach of a horse. “I feel sure there is some one in that room,” she said in a low tone to the doctor when Mrs. Muirhead stepped out for a moment.
“Is there no way to get in from above?” he asked.
“No, the only stairway leads to this room.”
“Does your father always lock the door of that room when he goes out?” asked the doctor of one of the children.
“No, only sometimes,” was the reply.
“How is it fastened?”
“It is bolted on the side this way, and locked on the other.”
The doctor sauntered out, and in a few minutes Agnes followed. She found the doctor examining the door from the outside. “That’s a pretty strong lock,” he said. “I thought perhaps we could see through the window, but there is a heavy shutter, and it is closed tight. I suppose if we break in we can be accounted burglars.”
“I’m willing to try it,” returned Agnes. “As matters stand this property belongs to my mother, anyhow. I’ll try if you will.”