Pete placed his finger against his lips and descended half a dozen steps more. She crept along behind him, clinging to the banisters.
The Marshall mansion was of old-fashioned construction. Over many of the doors there were transoms. This was true of the door that separated the library from the lower hall. As the pair of adventurers halted again and leaned stealthily over the railing they could see that there was a light in the library. The door was closed, but the transom stood open nearly to its full width.
Through the transom they could view a rectangular section of the library floor. Ordinarily, from where they stood, a table would have been visible, a chair or two, and a rug. But now table, chairs and rug had vanished and there was nothing but smooth parquetry.
"They're packing up the things!" gasped Mary.
Pete answered with a gesture imposing caution.
As they watched the open space in the library a man stepped into view. He came to a halt and, from where he stood, was visible to them from the waist up. He did not look exactly like a burglar; he was too well dressed to fit Mary's notion of the fraternity. He was too stout, also, for Mary's idea of a burglar called for a lean and hungry Cassius. As he paused in the center of the library, he made a commanding motion with his arms. It was a sign for silence on the part of persons who were invisible to the watchers on the staircase.
Then he began to speak again.
"Now, what I said about keepin' your lips buttoned goes. Get me? I'm runnin' this and I don't want to have any trouble. There ain't goin' to be any yellin' or stampin' or any other kind of noise, except what can't be helped. Everybody understand that, now?"
There was a murmur from an unseen throng, and evidently an assent, for the speaker nodded.
"And I want everybody to be careful not to break nothin'," he continued. "You don't want to break no chairs or tables or nothin' like that. And be careful of them pictures on the walls."