Jonas Ingram broke forth into an oath. He shook his cane at the house.
"Some one's in there, and they've got the door bolted on the inside," continued Joe. His voice had a strange sound even to himself. He seemed to be looking on at his own wrath. He strode around to a window, but the blinds were closed; the blinds were closed all over the house; every door was barred. Whoever was inside was in utter darkness. Joe came back and gave the door a violent shake; then they all listened, but only the pecking of a hen along the walk broke the silence.
"I'll get a crowbar," suggested Harry, scowling in the fierce sunlight. Jonas Ingram stood with his hair blowing out from under his hat and his stick grasped firmly in his gnarled old hand. He was all ready to strike. His chin was thrust out rigidly. They both pressed close to Joe, but he did not heed them. He put one shoulder against a panel; every muscle was set.
"Whoever you are, if I have to break this door down—"
There was a soft commotion on the inside and the bolt was drawn. Joe, with the other two at his heels, fairly burst into the darkened place, just in time to see a white figure dart across the room and cast itself in a corner. For an instant they could only blink. The figure wrapped its white arms about some object.
"You can have everything but this table; you can't have—this." The words ended in a frightened sob.
"Esther!"
"Oh, Joe!" She struggled to her feet, then shrank back against the wall. "Oh, I didn't know it was you. Go 'way! go 'way!"
"Why, Esther, what do you mean?" He started towards her, but she turned on him.
"Where is she?"