“Be quiet,” warned Mrs. Cartwright sternly.
So Ruth passed on down the line. There were about twenty people in the game, but Ruth knew all of them very well. Sometimes her guesses were right, sometimes they were wrong. Once or twice she had to confess herself beaten, and “gave up” with a shake of her head at Mrs. Cartwright.
Ruth had nearly finished her task. Only a few more pairs of eyes remained to be investigated.
“Well, I am nearly through,” she said gayly. “If anyone thinks I have had an easy time of it, he has only to take my place and try the next turn. No more mistakes now, for Ruth Stuart! Who is my next victim?” Ruth held her candle above her head and looked up.
Gleaming at her through the darkness lit by the flare from her candle-light was a pair of eyes that were strangely familiar.
Ruth stared at them. They belonged to none of the friends she knew—yet, somewhere, she had seen them before.
Ruth looked and looked. The eyes shifted and narrowed. Ruth still held her candle aloft; but she had forgotten where she was. Where had she seen those eyes before?
“Look straight ahead of you,” said Mrs. Cartwright to the gleaming eyes, “how can Ruth guess when your eyes are closed?” But again the eyes shifted.
“I am going to find out to whom those eyes belong, if I stay here all night,” said Ruth, speaking to herself.
The eyes glinted, narrowed and shone like two fine points of steel.