Rob smiled as he thought of the officers waiting within for the appearance of himself and companions, while he stationed himself so he could watch for them to appear, if they were in the house, as he believed.
Fifteen minutes wore tediously away, and it was becoming too dark to distinguish an object very far off, when he saw two men leave the old red house. He had no doubt these were Stanyan and Hardy, a fact which was made conclusive when he overheard the latter say:
“By Jove, Stanyan! I wouldn’t stay there any longer for all the hoodlums of New York.”
“So the old red house is haunted after all,” said the companion of the ’squire, and even in the darkness Rob could understand that the two men were greatly excited, if not frightened, over something they had seen or heard.
“Them sounds—sort of murder cries—sent the cold chills up my back,” acknowledged Hardy. “Come, Stanyan, it can’t be the deacon has taken his tribe up this way, and we might as well go home. What an awful dark night it is getting to be.”
“It was a mistake we hadn’t come the other way.”
“Oh, well, it can’t make any difference in the end. Wherever they have gone for the night, we can fix ’em to-morrow, eh? I’ll give you a cool fifty dollars to help me outwit the rascally deacon, Stanyan!”
“That’s easy enough done, ’squire. Whoa, Tom! what in the world are you snorting for, just as if you had seen a ghost out here in the dark?”
“Perhaps he was asleep and you scart him by coming up so sudden,” said his companion.
“I believe I heard some one move in the bushes!”