“I know a way,” declared Don.
“How?”
“I’m going to crawl right up beneath the window and listen.”
“Bravo, Donny! I’m with you there.”
Carefully as the two proceeded, it was impossible, in the darkness, to avoid making some noise; and each time both involuntarily halted in their tracks, half expecting to hear some one come rushing out of the house to investigate.
“Great Scott!”
The young combat pilot could not repress this exclamation, and, at the same instant, he heard a low whistle coming from the unseen Bobby close at hand.
Both had been caused by a peculiar action of one of the occupants of the room. Lamp in hand, he had approached the window, and, thrusting the feeble light outside, moved it up and down and sideways several times.
Mystified—puzzled, Don Hale felt that any further advance under the peculiar circumstances would be entirely too risky, and he was about to whisper this opinion to Bobby when a very faint sound from the rear caused him to turn quickly. A peculiar tingling sensation shot through him. Yet he could not quite explain the reason why. What was it he had heard?—a footfall? Or, in the excitement, had his imagination been tricked by the rustling of the vegetation?
In the darkness and mystery of the night the unseen often assumes in the imagination formidable proportions, carrying with it curious, undefinable fears.