"Three of them!" echoed Paula, dismayed.
Fearfully, she looked over Mrs. Parkes' shoulder.
"Yes, I see. It's my uncle and Mr. Cooley. They're pointing at this house and whispering together. What can they want?" Frightened, she turned to the landlady: "Mrs. Parkes, don't let anyone into this house to-night, do you hear? What can they be doing?"
"They seem to be waiting for someone."
"Don't let them see you looking," cried the girl, becoming more and more nervous. "Careful—don't let them see you! This is some new move! They know Mr. Ricaby has gone to Albany. Oh, what can I do?"
"Why, what are you afraid of, my dear?" demanded the landlady, surprised.
"I don't know," replied the trembling girl, in a frightened whisper, "only—don't let them in, Mrs. Parkes. Whatever you do, don't let them in!"
"Why, my dear!" exclaimed the old lady; "what ails you? Whatever is the matter, your hands are as cold as ice—what is it?"
"I don't know," gasped the other. "I can't explain even to myself, but I don't want to see that man again—don't leave me, Mrs. Parkes."
"But I want to go and give Mr. Chase your message," said the other.