It seemed to Gus that his position would be improved if he could manage to slip noiselessly out of the bed, and hide himself beneath it for the rest of the night. So he edged himself further and further out of the bed, till quite half his body was exposed to view behind the curtain, and his hands firmly rested on the floor. But how to draw out his legs and drop down and out of sight without making any noise was a difficult problem.
And just as he became aware of the exceeding difficulty of his position, Miss Durrant rose, and moved towards the bed. Gus tried to wriggle back into his lair, but that was not to be done in a moment. The lady was conscious of a strange movement behind the curtain. She drew it aside, then, arrested by terror, stood for a moment staring into the eyes that met hers; the next she shrieked wildly, and ran for the door. She struggled desperately with lock and bolt; she tore the door open; she rushed into the passage, screaming at the top of her voice:
"Murder, murder!"
A second or two of silence, and then a sudden rush and stir through the house. Doors opened, voices, steps made themselves heard. Edith was the first to appear in response to those wild screams. She came running from her room, white and trembling from the shock of alarm; but she was brave.
"A man in my room! A man in my bed!" shrieked her aunt, like one distracted. "In my very bed—waiting to murder me! Don't go in, Edith; don't go near! He'll kill you! Oh, where is that man-servant?"
The individual demanded appeared at that moment. He was armed with the poker, but he looked white and dazed.
"Where is he?" he asked, his teeth chattering as he spoke.
"Don't go in, Mr. Simpkins—don't, now!" cried Martha imploringly, from over the banisters. "He's a ferocious burglar, and he'll brain you—for a dead certainty he will. Go and fetch a policeman, but don't go in yourself."
Mr. Simpkins did not like the prospect of being brained, and the advice struck him as excellent.