"Yes, and that's about all," Roy, speaking bitterly, took the story away from Will, "except that it was yours truly's turn at sentry duty, and he went to sleep, leaving Adolph a clear field."
"And did he really come back?" asked Betty, glancing apprehensively over her shoulder as though she was afraid the rascal might be close at hand.
"Yes, he really did," said Roy, still bitterly. "And if I hadn't happened to see him coming out of the window—"
"Out of the window!" echoed Grace, who, with Amy, had decided that the lower hall with company was more to be desired than a room upstairs alone. "Oh, Roy, from this house?"
"Since this is the only one for three miles around, I suppose it was," said Roy, with biting sarcasm.
"But he may have been in our room," cried Amy, beginning to shiver again.
"Very likely," said Will grimly, while Mrs. Irving looked decidedly worried. "The one good thing about the whole affair is, that he didn't get the letter."
"Oh, bother the letter," cried Mollie, cross because she could not stop trembling. "I—I wish it were daylight. I never wanted to see the sun so much."
"Well, it is, almost," said Frank, waving his hand toward the east where a dim grey veil was replacing the blackness of night. "Adolph must have been hanging around for some time, before he got the chance he wanted."
"Before I went to sleep," put in Roy moodily.