He nodded, his eyes kindling.
“Well——”
No more. For as she spoke the word, and he bent forward, something heavy fell on the floor overhead; and she sat up straight. Her eyes, grown suddenly hard and small—perhaps with fright—held Tyson’s eyes.
“What’s that?” he cried, frowning suspiciously. “There’s nobody upstairs?”
“Father’s in bed,” she said. She held up a finger for silence.
“And there’s nobody else in the house?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who should there be?” she said. “It’s the cat, I suppose.”
“You’d better let me see,” he rejoined. And he took a step towards the staircase door.
“No need,” she answered listlessly, after listening anew. “I’m not afraid. The cat is not here; it must have been the cat. I’ll go up when you are gone, and see.”