“Just in time,” thought Peterson. “Too late to prevent it, but not too late to see what has been done. That may serve as well.”
He stole away as he had come, but not to return to his room. He remained crouching near the top of the servants’ stairway, waiting patiently in the inky darkness, minute after minute, until a tall, old-fashioned clock in the lower hall struck one.
Then a beam of light from another quarter dispelled the gloom.
Margate stole out of his chamber and crept down the front stairs.
The nurse stepped into the hall and waited, holding a bundle of garments under her arm.
Margate returned in about three minutes in company with two men—Dunbar and Haley.
Peterson sat watching them from the top of the stairs.
He saw them enter the room, all three men, from which they presently emerged with a heavy burden—the senseless woman.
Moving noiselessly, they bore her down the stairs and out of the house.
Peterson started up to follow them, then resumed his seat on the top stair.