“Humph!” he exclaimed. “She's gone.”
“GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?”
“I don't know, but she has gone—somewhere. At any rate, she's not here.”
Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed astonishment.
“How could she go?” he repeated. “That window won't open more'n six inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never could squeeze through that in this world. And I locked the door, 'cause I heard the click. I—I—I—do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. Ellery?”
“Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's talk it over.”
The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened the dingy sitting room.
“Do you b'lieve in spirits?” repeated Kyan. “I've heard yarns about folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in 'em. And,” he added with conviction, “'twould take a pretty husky spirit to handle Laviny if she had her mad up. She—Hush! hear that!”
The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A vehicle stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. Pepper's fear returned.
“It's her!” he cried. “She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get it! You stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. But how on earth did she get—”