The dinner hour never seemed so long. Two or three times the big secret almost burst from its keeping. At last, however, Mrs. Stickney was off, the top-floor lodgers that came home at noon had disappeared down the stairway, the one o’clock whistles had shrieked their final summons, and Blue was free to begin his eager lookout from the dust closet.
At first time passed swiftly. If they should come—oh, if only they would!—then he could get that pretty kid away from those horrid people. How glad her mother would be to have her back again! But could the little thing live, sick as she was, in that roasting oven! All at once Blue doubted more than ever that the crowd was there. Probably no one was in the room after all, and he was staying here just for nothing! Wouldn’t folks laugh if they should hear of it! But, then, how came that skylight open? Of course, Winkle might have come in and opened it, to air the place. The more he thought of that, the more probable it seemed. He could have gone by their door a dozen times when they did not see him,—perhaps the day before while he was taking Doodles out to ride. But could those folks have got down the stairs without Granny’s hearing them? Oh, if they were coming to the sink, he wished they’d hurry up! How hot it was! The closet suddenly became suffocatingly close. He opened the door wider and drew a long, deep breath. He had half a mind to give it up and go and give Doodles a spin. It must be three or half-past!
The bell in a nearby tower struck the hour.
“Only two o’clock!” Blue complained scowlingly.
The moments dragged. He didn’t believe the crowd was there, he told himself. He wouldn’t stay and be such a fool! Cautiously opening the door, he put one foot beyond the sill—a thought came to him of that little girl’s mother. He hesitated, and a picture of Doodles arose in his mind—Doodles waiting patiently for news from the lookout. With a determined toss of his head he stepped softly back and began again his watch from the narrow peephole.
“I’ll stick it out if I have to stay here all night!” he vowed grimly.
It was very quiet on the top floor. Not a sound reached the boy’s ears save the far-away buzz of a sewing machine and the more distant clatter of the street. He leaned against the door frame, and closed his eyes. Presently his head slipped past its support, and he awoke with a start. He was about to move, when he realized where he was and stood motionless—somebody was at the sink! It was the man who had sent him for the doctor!
With furtive glances down the hall, the pitcher was filled. Then without a sound the figure glided out of sight.
Blue waited long enough to be sure of a safe passage, and then sped noiselessly back to Doodles. An exultant gesture told of success, and with a few quick words he was away.
First he must find Thomas Fitzpatrick; that was his plan. He knew where he would be likely to catch him at this hour, and down to Tremont Street he ran. Soon the policeman was spied far ahead. Blue’s feet made short the intervening distance, and he grabbed the officer’s sleeve just as he was turning Gates House Corner.