“Who?” she asked in surprise.
He simply pointed through the window in the direction of the next house.
She looked out. “Well, I declare! they’re not up yet! I never knew them to lie abed till this hour before.”
“They’re not there; nobody’s there unless—” he gasped and shuddered, a new and terrible thought striking him.
“Unless what?”
“Burglars—murderers—such things have been; we—we must break open the door or window—”
His mother’s face suddenly reflected the paleness and agitation of his.
But Mr. Alden came hurrying in. “The house next door is all shut up!” he exclaimed pantingly. “Oh, Espy, so there you are! Come, come, don’t look so terribly frightened! I met Crosby, and he tells me Floy has left town—went off in the midnight train, nobody knows where, after, like a fool, telling him the whole story I so wanted her, for her own good, to keep to herself. And he’s to have the settling of everything; so there, we’re done with her!”
His son’s countenance had undergone several changes while he was speaking—terror, despair, relief, indignation, swept over it by turns.