“About Miss Olaine and Tom Moran? She knows something about him and she has been telling Mrs. Pangborn.”
“Sh!” warned Dorothy. “If it was anything that might lead to his being found, she would have told me—surely.”
“Who?”
“Mother Pangborn.”
“Well, there’s something queer about it,” declared Tavia, nodding, “and Miss Olaine knows.”
They put Celia to bed in Number Nineteen and some time after Dorothy had put out the light and crept in beside the little girl—Tavia was already asleep in her own bed—Dorothy heard a sound outside of the door.
Somebody was creeping along the corridor. Was it some teacher on the watch for some infraction of the rules? Dorothy had heard nothing of a “spread-eagle” affair on this corridor to-night.
The step stopped. Was it at this door? For some moments Dorothy lay, covered to her ears, and listened.
Then to her surprise she knew that the door was open. It was the draft from the window that assured her of this fact. The door was opened wider and a tall figure, dimly visible because of the light in the hall, pushed into the room.
The lock clicked faintly as the knob was released by the marauder’s hand. Dorothy was half-frightened at first; then she knew there could be nobody about the building who would hurt her.