Dr. Alford said his thanks with an odd little smile; but he dropped the coin back into the boy’s pocket.
“Queer,” Blue told Doodles, “how that crowd could get out, traps and all, and we not hear ’em! They made noise enough comin’ up. There was the Muldoons,” he mused, “their duds bumped along all the way downstairs. I should think Granny would have heard ’em—and maybe she did!” Off he dashed, bursting into the room at the foot of the flight.
The old Irish woman was paring potatoes. She looked up with a happy, “Good-mornin’ to ye!”
“Good-morning!” responded the boy. “Feel first-rate?”
“Oh, as good as annybody cud, an’ not shleep more’n two winks all th’ night!”
“What kept you awake, Granny?”
“Sure, me poor old achin’ legs!”
“I didn’t know but ’t was folks goin’ up and down past your door,” replied Blue with artful innocence.
“No, they wa’ n’t manny of ’em. Mary Ottatoe, I heerd her come up ’long ’bout nine, an’ McCabe was just afther. Th’ Frinchman with th’ sthrange name—I do be always f’rgitt’n ut—he sthayed up there all th’ avenin’. An’ th’ new folks acrost f’m ye on’y go out now an’ thin f’r a bite or a drink. ’Long toward mornin’ I heerd ’em stheppin’ round soft somewheres—goin’ to th’ sink, prob’ly. But they wa’ n’t noise enough all night to kape a dog awake.”
The boy was puzzled. It was clear to him that the crowd did not take their goods down by way of the staircase unless Granny dozed more than she realized. One thing was certain,—they were gone! But how did they get out?