“Don’t make a noise,” he said. “Listen.”
The girl sat up on the straw.
“I’ll call,” she whispered presently, “and pretend you’re not here.”
“But the horse?”
“I’ll lie about him.”
She raised her voice.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s I—Calvert. Where are you?”
“Listen,” she answered; “I’ve fallen through the floor into the cellar. Don’t you see where it’s broken?”
The footsteps approached.