“Better not wait, captain,” said Graves; “the Lord only knows what trick they may be up to. I would break in the door.” And break it in we did.
Then, turning the slides of our boat lanterns, we flashed the light into the hall, which was bare and empty. Near the foot of the stairs was a rough cedar settle with a row of pegs, from which hung a quantity of feminine wraps of various kinds and colors, with a dozen or more bonnets and worsted head coverings, but not a single masculine garment or hat, save a dilapidated old broad-brimmed straw, which had evidently been left over from the past summer.
I saw Graves gazing at this array of women’s gear with a puzzled look on his face.
“Why, captain, this looks more like a young ladies’ boarding-school than a bushwhacker’s crib. What does it mean, I wonder?”
A feeble light flashed over the banisters from the upper landing, and a tremulous female voice exclaimed, “What is it you want here, gentlemen, at this time of night?”
“Well, madam,” I replied, “we want Mr. Kane for one, and such of his friends—men, I mean, not women—as may be here.”
“Mr. Kane is not here, sir, I assure you.”
“I regret to doubt your word, madam, but it is my painful duty to search this house, and I must do it quickly. Please dress yourself at once, for I can allow you only five minutes for your toilet.”
The lady gave a little scream. “Oh, sir, you mustn’t come up here with all those men. It is quite impossible. There are none here but women. There isn’t a man in the house.”
“Where are the men, then?” I queried.