Rumors came back to her of the burglaries which the kitchen-folk had declared had been frequent of late, none more serious than the loss of a dinner provided and the strange rifling of safes and cupboard. Such had happened weeks before, then apparently ceased; but they had begun again of late; with added rumors of strange noises heard at night, and in the quieter hours of the day.
The faculty had tried to keep these fresh rumors from the pupils’ ears, but they had leaked out. Yet no real investigation had been made. It was a busy household, both above and below stairs; and as is usual, what is “everybody’s business is nobody’s” and things were left to run their course.
But now, was the burglar real? And had Dorothy come suddenly upon his track? If she only could find out!
Without fear of consequences to herself and forgetful of that retiring-rule she tip-toed noiselessly in the wake of whatever was in advance, and so came at last to the door of the drying-room. It stood ajar and whatever had preceded her passed beyond it as the girl came to it.
She also entered, curiosity setting every nerve a-tingle, yet she still unafraid. Stepping behind the open door she waited what next, and trying to accustom her eyes to the absolute darkness of the place. The long row of windows on the outer wall were covered by wooden shutters, as she had noticed from the ground, and with them closed the only light which could enter came through a small scuttle, or skylight in the center of the ceiling.
From her retreat behind the door she listened breathlessly. The rat-a-tat-tat had died away in the distance, whither she now dared not follow because of the darkness; and presently she heard a noise like the slipping of boards in a cattle shed.
Then footsteps returning, swiftly and softly, as of one in bare or stockinged feet. There was a rush past her, the door to which she clung was snatched from her and shut with a bang. This sound went through her with a thrill, and vividly there arose the memory of a night long past when she had been imprisoned in an empty barn, by the wild freak of an old acquaintance of the mountain, and half-witted Peter Piper for sole companion. Then swiftly she felt her way back along the door till her hand was on its lock—which she could not move. Here was a situation suitable, indeed, for any Hallowe’en!