She had actually got as far as to put one foot over the low sill, when she quickly pulled it back again. A dark form had slipped around the corner of the other house and was hurrying toward her.
“Leslie! Leslie! Quick!—can you come here with me?”
Leslie almost collapsed, so swift was the reaction of relief at hearing Phyllis’s voice, after all her terrible imaginings.
“What is it? What have you found?” she managed to reply.
“I can’t explain to you here,” whispered Phyllis. “It would take too long. Come along with me and see for yourself. It’s perfectly safe. There’s not a soul around. I’ve been in the house. Bring Rags along—it won’t hurt. There have been queer doings here to-day—evidently. You can see it all in five minutes. Do come!”
In spite of all her previous fears, the temptation was too much for Leslie. If Phyllis had examined the ground and found it safe, surely there was no need for fear, and her curiosity to see what her friend had seen was now stronger than she could resist. She crept softly out of the window, speaking to Rags in a whisper, and the dog leaped lightly out after her.
They stole around the corner of the next house, three black shadows in the enveloping mist, and not till Phyllis had closed the side door of Curlew’s Nest behind them was a word spoken.
“Follow me into the living-room,” she ordered, “and if you don’t see something there that surprises you, I miss my guess!”
She switched on the electric torch, and Leslie and Rags followed after her in solemn procession. From what she had said, Leslie expected to see the place in a terrible disorder, at the very least, and was considerably surprised, when she came into the room, to observe nothing out of its place. In some bewilderment she looked about, while Phyllis stood by, watching her.
“Why, what’s wrong?” she whispered. “Everything seems to be just as it was.”