“’Twas Jonas Maker,” persisted Pasco.
“It can’t ha’ been Jonas,” answered Rose; “Jonas is tall, and this we saw was stout and thickset.”
“Did he speak?” asked Zerah breathlessly. Pasco fidgeted in his seat.
“No, he did not; us weren’t very near, and I axed Noah to run on and catch him up, and ax him questions why he walked, but he wouldn’t.”
“I reckon Mr. Pepperill would ha’ been shy to do that,” growled Noah.
Then a dead silence fell on all; and in that dead silence a sound like the tread of a man with a limp was audible, coming up the steps to the door. Next as if a hand were laid on the door-hasp, and all saw that the latch was raised, and cautiously lowered, without the door being opened. Then ensued the halting hobble down the steps again.
No one stirred. Every face was blank. Possibly one of those present would have started up and gone to the door to look forth into the black night, but at this moment Kate entered, and, going up to a crook, took down a lantern.
“Jane Redmore is going home,” she said, “and she’s axed me just to show her off the premises and into the lane, with a light; it’s too dark to find the way at once, when one has been in the room with plenty of light.”
Kate opened the lantern and looked in.
“There is a candle,” she said, and proceeded to ignite it.