“What was it you put in that cedar chest you’re sitting on?” asked Belle curiously.
“I’ll tell you later,” replied Cora. “And, girls, stay right where you are, whatever happens.”
In the dark she busied herself with something at the entrance of the room.
Shortly after midnight, Higby slipped in through the rear door. He had taken off his shoes and was in his stocking feet.
It was pitch dark within, and he moved with such feline stealthiness that he had reached and stolen up the stairs before the watchers were sure that he was not one of themselves.
The jewelry of the girls was the chief object that he had in view, and he went to their rooms first. But as he stepped inside, he tripped over a wire that extended from one side of the door to the other, at the height of a foot, and fell headlong with a crash that jarred the house.
Cora reached into a chest, and clutching an acetylene lamp that was already lighted, turned its blinding glare right into Higby’s eyes.
“Don’t dare to move!” she commanded.
Higby, not knowing how many weapons were turned upon him, and unable to see anything in that pitiless blaze, lay perfectly still. The next instant he was in the grasp of the men and boys, who handled him none too gently and jerked him to his feet.
“Trapped by a woman!” he growled, as he saw the wire over which he had fallen and the lamp that Cora still held.