“That’s the idea,” cried the sheriff approvingly. “Still, young man, before you undertake this you must understand that there is risk attending it. You will be completely at the mercy of any one who happens to be up there. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Well, some one must go,” replied Fairfax. “One of your men would take the risk in case I don’t. Won’t he?”
“Yes; but—— Well, go on.” A chair was passed up to him, and the youth mounting it pushed the trap-door back slowly.
Peggy’s hand involuntarily went to her heart, and she trembled so that she could scarcely stand. The watchers grew very still as Fairfax Johnson stood for a moment before swinging himself up through the opening. Sally gave a little gasp as he disappeared into the darkness.
“What if—if he should shoot?” she murmured unconsciously speaking aloud.
“’Tis what I’m afraid of,” answered Sheriff Will. “What is it?” he cried, springing upon the table and mounting the chair in a vain effort to see what was taking place in the attic. “Have you found him?” For an unmistakable chuckle came from overhead. It sounded to Peggy as though it were her cousin’s voice. She told herself that she was mistaken, however, when Fairfax Johnson appeared at the opening.
“It’s a rug,” he called, a broad smile illuminating his countenance. “When I stumbled over it I thought it was a bear. I suppose Miss Peggy hath put it up here anent her housekeeping time. Shall I throw it down?”
“No,” answered Sheriff Will, in disgusted tones. “If that’s all there is up there you might as well come down. We are not hunting articles to set Miss Peggy up.”
“If any of the rest of you wish to come up I think I could help draw him up.” The youth leaned over the side of the opening suggestively.
“No, no,” interposed Mr. Ledie, commissioner of prisoners. “The fellow is evidently not up there, and there is no use wasting time. He must be somewhere else about the premises, or else we have overlooked his tracks.”