The transom, of course, was glazed, and he had no doubt that it was fastened upon the other side, but possibly he might hear a little more distinctly if he could get up to it, and it would do no harm for him to investigate and see if it was fastened.
He brought the center-table and put it softly down by the door. He then took a blanket from his bed and covered the marble top, set a chair upon this, and then noiselessly mounting upon that by the aid of another, he found himself upon a level with the transom.
To his intense satisfaction, he discovered that it was not fastened; it was tightly closed, but it yielded beneath his cautious touch, and he knew if he could open it ever so little without attracting the attention of the occupants of that room, he could satisfy himself regarding the nature of the proceedings there.
While he stood there waiting for a favorable opportunity to push the transom open, a neighboring clock struck the hour of two.
“Unless the young lady has been taken suddenly sick, I am satisfied that mischief of some kind is brewing,” he said to himself, and resolving not to leave his post until he had ascertained whether he was right or not.
He found he could hear more plainly now—could catch a word occasionally, though not enough to give him any idea of the nature of the conversation carried on there.
As soon as he heard that low sobbing again he gently tried to move the transom still more.
It yielded a trifle, but grated a little on the wood work. He waited a moment, and then made another effort, and it moved just enough to admit a line of light at the bottom. Then he could hear quite plainly.
A man seemed to be asking the strangest questions of some one.
“Your name is Ellen Wood?” he heard him say, in a mocking tone.