Gliding through the parlour and out into the hall, avoiding that side of the house visible from the yard or sidewalk, they mounted the stairs, three at a time.
"What is there to hide us up in the attic?" demanded Jesse of his guide.
"Ma's clothes press, piles of quilts and old feather beds."
"Nothing else?"
"No. Won't they do?" asked Marjorie, crestfallen.
"Not for a minute. The detectives will go for them the first thing."
"Oh dear! I don't know where else to take you except in some of our closets," groaned the girl.
"Which they'll likewise examine carefully. Can't we crawl up one of the fireplaces? Are the flues big enough? That's the kind of place we want to find."
Apprised of the sort of refuge the outlaws desired, Marjorie thought rapidly.