"Then it's but fair we should leave her," said Phil, and they moved away. Kitty, as I reached the upper hall, made me a hasty gesture to turn out the light at the head of the stairs. I obeyed, and in a moment the lights at that end of the hall were all extinguished, and only one left burning dimly at the other extremity.
"Quick!" whispered Kitty. "Mrs. Roberts is in her room. I have the key."
We hurried toward her, groping along the dark passage. The heavy wardrobe moved from its place with a dull, rumbling sound; the key grated in the unused lock.
"Quick! quick!" whispered Victor. "There is a step on the stairs!" There was a cruel moment of suspense as the key refused to turn; Victor held my hand in his with a grasp of iron; a low cry of despair burst from Kitty, as the step on the stairs mounted quickly. It was a matter of life and death indeed; discovery seemed inevitable now.
"Push, push it with all your might," I cried in an agony, "perhaps it will give way!"
"Thank heaven!" murmured Victor, as it yielded to her desperate strength. In less time than it takes to speak it, the door closed upon him, the wardrobe was pushed back to its place.
"What is the meaning of this?" said the stern voice of the master at the head of the stairs. "Why are the lights put out? Who is there? Answer me."
Kitty thrust me into the nearest room, and advanced to meet her angry master.
"It's me, sir—Kitty; and I was just come up myself to see what had made it so dark up here; I think, sir, that the north windows there have been left open, and the wind has come up strong from that way, and the draught has put them out. It was very careless of Mrs. Roberts not to look after it," she continued, busying herself in relighting the lamps.
"Kitty," said Mr. Rutledge in a voice that I knew had more terror for the girl, than any other in the world, "your falsehoods are very ready, but they can never deceive me, remember that. Tell me promptly who put the lamps out."