“Honor bright,” he called back.
Then he went on beyond the flood of light into the gloom of the night. Muffled in wraps and ulsters they lingered on the piazzas waiting his return.
“Would he see anything?”
“Of course not!” laughed Charlie and Bert Smith. “Still, we bet he’ll be sharp to his time.”
They were right. Aubrey returned at five minutes past twelve, a failure.
Charlie ran down the steps briskly, but in ten minutes came hastening back.
“Well,” was the chorus, “did you see it?”
“I saw something—a figure in the trees!”
“And you did not wait?” said Molly, scornfully.
“No, I dared not; I own it.”