“Oh, be careful!” echoed the Pimple, who was badly scared.
I knew no more than the others what the noise could be, and I felt curiously nervous as I opened the door. The Pimple’s fear was infectious.
Outside on the landing we had a high shelf where we kept our bread. Owing to some unknown cause—it may have been the Pimple’s agitated dancing in our room—a loaf had fallen off the shelf and bumped down two of the steps of our wooden stair. I picked it up and replaced it quietly.
“There was nobody to see,” I said very solemnly, coming back into the room, “but one thing I know and will swear—that noise was not human! There’s danger abroad tonight!”
“I knew I was spooked,” groaned the Pimple. “Oh, what shall I do?”
“You may have left your questions in the office, where you wrote them,” Hill suggested.
This scared the Pimple worse than ever. He grabbed his Enver cap and started for the door. The blackness of the night outside stopped him. He came back and looked at us appealingly.
“You say there is danger abroad tonight: would you mind—do you think you could——”
“Come with you, Moïse? Certainly!” I picked up the candle and went with him as far as the gate, whence he legged it for the office as fast as he could go. I returned to our room, and Hill.
“He won’t be back tonight,” I said. “The poor little fellow is frightened half out of his wits.”