The man composed his features to a mask of whimsical attention.
"What--what did you do with him?" the girl stammered after a pause during which consciousness of her disadvantage became only more acute.
"Our active little friend, the yegg? Why, I didn't do anything with him."
"You didn't leave him there'?"
"Oh, no; he went away, considerately enough--up-stairs and out through the scuttle--the way he broke in, you know. Surprisingly spry on his feet for a man of his weight and age--had all I could do to keep up. He did stop once, true, as if he'd forgotten something, but the sword ran into him--I happened thoughtlessly to be carrying it--only a quarter of an inch or so--and he changed his mind, and by the time I got my head through the scuttle he was gone--vanished utterly from human ken!"
"He had broken the scuttle open, you say?"
"Pried it up with a jimmy."
"And you left it so? He'll go back."
"No, he won't. I found hammer and nails and made all fast before I left."
"But," she demanded, wide-eyed with wonder, "why did you take that trouble?"