“He was greatly dissatisfied,” returned Peggy, a troubled look clouding her eyes. “He said that some member of the family must have helped in the escape, though father insisted that it could not be. And oh! I met him as I was coming here.”
“Who? The sheriff?” questioned Clifford startled.
“Yes; he was going to our house, I think. At least I saw him turn into Chestnut Street.”
“Did he turn to watch you, Peggy?” inquired her cousin with some anxiety.
“Why no; why should he?” asked she simply.
“Because——” he began, when a loud peal of the knocker brought the remark to an abrupt stop.
Sally arose with precipitancy.
“Mother is busy in the kitchen,” she said. “’Twill be best for me to see who it is. I don’t believe that ’tis any one who will wish to come up here, but if it should be thy cousin must run for the closet, Peggy. I will leave the door ajar, and should I be saying anything when I come to the stairway thee will know that ’tis some one who insists upon coming up.”
The two cousins sat in silence as Sally went down-stairs, fearful of what the visit might portend. Peggy was openly anxious, and Clifford, too, seemed uneasy. The murmur of voices could be heard, and while the words could not be distinguished it seemed to Peggy that the tones were those of command. A slight commotion followed as though several persons had entered the dwelling, and presently the stairway door opened and closed quickly.
“Peggy!” came in a shrill whisper from the foot of the stairs. Peggy was out of the chamber and at the head of the stairs in an instant. Sally stood below, and though the stairway was so dimly lighted that Peggy could scarcely distinguish the outlines of her form, she knew that her friend was greatly excited. She was telling her something in so low a tone that Peggy could hardly hear what it was, but she gathered enough to send her flying back to her cousin.