One glance about her showed great dark bulks on every hand.
“Freight,” she breathed, “piles of freight. Here—here is a chance yet.”
The next instant she was tip-toeing her way softly in and out among the innumerable piles of boxes, bags and crates that extended on and on into the impenetrable darkness.
She ran along as softly as she could, yet each time as she paused she fancied that she caught the stealthy footsteps of that horrible man.
“What does he want? Is it the bag that he wants? Whose bag was it? Was it his? If so, why did he let it get away from him?” These questions kept racing through her brain. Then came another question even more disturbing. Perhaps this man had been unfortunate, had been sick or had lost all his property. It might be that he had returned just in time to miss the opportunity of redeeming this lost possession which contained something he prized, perhaps of great value.
“In that case he is more to be pitied than feared,” she thought.
For an instant she contemplated going back to him; yet she dared not.
So, in the end, she continued tip-toeing about. Round a great pile of sacks, filled with sugar or beans, past boxes of tin cans and in and out among massive pieces of machinery, she wandered, all the time wondering in a vague sort of way what was to be the end of it all.
The end to her stay in the store-room came with lightning-like rapidity. She had just tiptoed around a huge steel drum of some sort when all of a sudden there burst upon her ear a deafening roar that shattered the stillness of the place.
The next instant a great black dog leaped at her.