“No. Wouldn’t do,” he said to himself. “There is sure to be some one watching the house from the back, and it would show them that I came straight here for some particular reason. I can manage in the dark.”
It was not quite dark to one who well knew the place; and with beating heart he went across to the picture, and, familiar now with the ingenious mechanism, he pressed the fastening, and then stood still, with the picture turned so that the closet stood open before him.
He hesitated, for though he was so full of hope that he felt quite certain that there would be some communication from his father, he did not like to put it to the test for fear of disappointment. That he felt—after his brave defence of his father, and his belief that he would be able to find a letter which would sweep away all doubt and prove to his mother that she was wrong—would be almost unbearable, and so he waited for quite two minutes.
“Oh, what a coward I am,” he muttered at last; and running his hand along the bottom shelf, he felt for the letter he hoped to find.
His heart sank, for there was nothing there, and he hesitated once more, feeling that half his chance was gone. But there was the upper shelf, and once more with beating heart he began to pass his hand over it very slowly, and the next moment he touched a packet, which began to glide along the shelf. Then he started back, thrust to the canvas-covered panel and fastened it almost in one movement, turning as he did so to face the door, which was slowly opened, and a dimly seen figure stepped forward, to stand gazing in.
“Why didn’t I lock the door after me?” thought the boy, who was half wild now with excitement and dread, as he tried to make out by the few rays which struck across from the shutters who the man could be.
That was too hard; but it seemed from the attitude that his back was half turned to him, and that he was trying to see what was going on in the room.
The next moment he had proof that he was right, for the dimly seen figure softly turned and gazed straight at where he stood.
“He must see me,” thought the boy; and in his excitement he felt that he must take the aggressive, and began the attack.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he cried sharply. “A thief?”