Chick lingered only a moment, then stole into the hall and found concealment under the rise of the main stairway. That brought him within ten feet of the sitting-room door, and within easy view of that opening upon the landing at the head of the cellar stairs. He scarce had concealed himself in the dark corner he had selected, when he made another discovery.
The cellar door was slowly swinging open. A stealthy hand was cautiously moving it. Presently, not only the hand, but the spy himself could be seen. He was crouching on the landing, his head thrust forward, his ears strained, his eyes glowing like those of a cornered wolf.
“Sheldon!” thought Chick, startled by the terrible look on the man’s face. “By Jove, I’m not alone. He, too, wants to learn what this vixen has up her sleeve.”
Sheldon, having reached the vantage point desired, did not stir from his crouching posture on the landing.
Chick waited and listened.
Kate Crandall’s voice, though somewhat subdued, could be distinctly heard by both.
“I can tell you in a nutshell, Jim, just where we stand and what must be done,” she was saying earnestly. “Our easy mark has ceased to be an easy mark. He has become suspicious. He begins to feel sure that I am in love with you, instead of with him, and that I intend to throw him down. That’s why he has balked at making over half of his fortune to me, and at putting it in my hands before I marry him. That’s what has kept us hung up in the Ashburton Chambers for a whole week since the supposed suicide.”
“By thunder!” Chick mentally exclaimed. “Supposed suicide? Easy mark, eh? This man Sheldon must be Cyrus Darling, then, as sure as there is juice in a lemon.[Pg 37]”
Chick needed only one glance at the face of the crouching man to convince him that he was right.
“I know all that, Kate,” Dacey responded, with a growl. “But what’s the answer? What’s to be done?”