“I won’t,” laughed Luke, starting down the stairs. “I think it will turn out to be, just as I said, some water gurgling through a drain-pipe. But if I should be——”
Before he could complete the sentence the front doorbell suddenly pealed out its electric warning.
Luke was already half-way down the cellar stairs.
“Goodness! Callers at this time of night!” gasped Agnes.
“Probably some one who wants shelter from the storm,” suggested Luke, calling the words from the cellar stairway.
“Agnes, you and Hal go and see who’s at the front door, and Neale and I will wait in the kitchen to see what Luke finds,” suggested Ruth.
“I’ll appoint myself a member of the door committee!” remarked Nalbro. “Unless you want me to stay with you and Neale?” she added, turning to Ruth.
“No, go ahead,” Ruth answered.
A dim glow came up from the cellar, showing that the electric lights there were working properly. But Luke did not trust them. He held in his hand, ready, the little electric torch Neale had given him.
Agnes, Nalbro and Hal went to the front door to answer the bell, while Ruth and Neale remained in the kitchen.