And knock they did, both loud and long, but no sound was heard in the shut-up house. The party was now reinforced by a policeman, who promptly climbed the next door neighbour's wall, dropped into the yard, and presently opened the shop door.
"Come in, reverend sir, and you, Mr. Trulock," said he; and when they had squeezed through the half-opened door, he shut it fast, to the infinite disgust of the crowd.
"I have seen nobody, sir; there does not seem to be any one in the house. I called up the stairs and got no answer. I hardly expect to find the children here."
"My children!" cried Ralph, and rushed up the little creaking stairs with all the speed of fear; his rheumatism actually frightened away for the time. The others followed him as he went swiftly up to the attics. But he reached the children's room first.
"Ruth!" he gasped, "Ruthie! Answer me, child, for Heaven's sake."
"Oh!" cried a small voice, "is that you, Mr. Trulock? Oh, thank God! I have been praying so hard that it might be you ever since I heard the knocking. Ruthie is here lying over me, and I can't get her to move. Oh, do come and see what's the matter with Ruthie."
On the bed, his pretty face wild with fear, lay Ollie, and over him, face downward, lay Ruth; and when Ralph lifted her, he thought for one dreadful moment that she was dead. But Mr. Cloudesley saw that she breathed, though faintly, and taking her from the old man, he carried her to the window, which he opened wide.
"Water," said he. There was none in the room, but the policeman tramped downstairs to get some. Ruth opened her eyes and saw Ralph Trulock.
"Was it all a dream? Can dreams be so dreadful?" she said in a whisper. "Oh, Mr. Trulock, have I been asleep and dreamed it all?"
She sat up and looked round.