Then she understood in part.
Fortunately for her curiosity, she had not undressed, and, catching up a shawl, she wrapped her head in it, left her room, and crossed the hall to the sitting-room, where Mr. French and Mr. Dashwood, who had not yet gone to bed, were sitting smoking.
"I've found out Moriarty's plan," said Miss Grimshaw. "Come out on the verandah and I'll show you something. But don't make a noise."
She opened the window on to the verandah, and the others followed her.
The bailiff and his supporters were now on the downhill path to the road, they and their shadows very visible in the moonlight.
"Look!" said the girl. "He's the middle one."
"Why, he's drunk!" said Mr. Dashwood.
"Mad drunk," said French. "This is Moriarty's work. And he a teetotaler! How on earth did Moriarty do it?"
"I heard them in the yard," said the girl. "They dragged him into the loose-box next to the one The Cat's in, and shut the door. After a while, I heard him laughing and singing—and now, look at him!"