Deacon Blackford had certainly heard a noise. It was not the slight sound made by Joe Strong, when that young magician made his escape from the house, but it was the louder noise made by the two rascals in taking the papers and money.
“What’s that, Amos?” asked Mrs. Abigail Blackford, as she too heard the suspicious sound.
“I don’t know,” he answered sleepily enough. He had lain awake the early part of the night, tossing restlessly, for the memory of the scene in the afternoon with the two men had bothered the deacon.
“But, Amos,” persisted his wife, “it is a noise.”
“Yes,” he admitted, after listening a moment, “it surely is.”
“Hadn’t you better get up and see what it is?” she suggested.
He waited a moment before replying, meanwhile listening intently. The sound was plainer now.
“Couldn’t be cats, could it?” the deacon asked, and his voice was hopeful. He did not like to get up, for he was tired and sleepy.
“Cats! No, the idea!” his wife exclaimed. “It’s somebody downstairs inside the house, Amos, and you’ve got to get up and see who it is.”
“Queer time for anybody to be calling,” grumbled Joe’s foster-father.