This was indeed easily accomplished, and they were soon breasting the wet cold wind that swept in from the sea.
As they neared the Pine Cabin Kathryn whispered: “There’s a low light burning in the study. That’s good for us. We can see at once where the papers are and we won’t stumble over things.”
“I hope the old lady is asleep,” said Anne. “I heard Miss Torrence say only last week that her mother is so frail now that she has to carry her from the chair she sits in all day to bed at night.”
“What do I care about her? Be quiet, will you? I’ll lift the window and we will have no trouble stepping in from this porch ledge.”
Kathryn was right. The lock to the window had been broken and as Miss Torrence had no fear of thieves, she had not called the gardener to repair it. The window creaked slightly as it was lifted, and the girls waited, listening breathlessly, before they stepped inside.
They were not the only ones who heard it. The little old lady in the adjoining room had also heard.
“Daughter, is that you? Have you come back?” a tremulous voice called.
Anne darted a quick look at her companion, and motioned her to be absolutely quiet. The little old lady sank back on her pillow believing the sound to have been caused by the rising wind. When the voice was not heard again, Kathryn began to search through the desk. The bundle of manuscripts that she had seen, when she had that afternoon returned a book to Miss Torrence, was not in evidence.
In her impatience she was not as quiet as she might have been. “You’ll frighten the little old lady,” Anne Petersen whispered.
“What do I care. She can’t walk! She’ll never be able to tell who was here,” was Kathryn’s cold reply.