It never occurred to Wilson to do the natural and obviously simple thing: awake the girl at once and steal down the stairs in the rear until he at least should have a chance to reconnoitre. It seemed necessary for him to meet the situation face to face, to stand his ground as though this were an intrusion upon his own domain. The girl in the next room was sleeping soundly in perfect faith that he would meet every danger that should approach her. And so, by the Lord, he would. Neither she nor he were thieves or cowards, and he refused to allow her to be placed for a minute in such a position.
Someone followed close behind the first man who had entered and lighted a match. As the light flashed, Wilson caught a glimpse of two men; one tall and angular, the other short and broad-shouldered.
“The––the lights aren’t on, cabby,” said one of them; “but I––I can find my way all right.”
“The divil ye can, beggin’ yer pardon,” answered the other. “I’ll jist go ahead of ye now an’–––”
“No, cabby, I don’t need help.”
“Jist to th’ top of the shtairs, sor. I know ye’re thot weak with sickness–––”
The answer came like a military command, though in a voice heavy with weariness.
“Light a candle, if you can find one, and––go.”
The cabby struck another match and applied it to a bit of candle he found on a hall table. As the light dissolved the dark, Wilson saw the taller man straighten before the anxious gaze of the driver.