“Silent as the proverbial tomb!”
“I’ll go round and reconnoitre.”
He stole off with jerky, striding vehemence, pushed through a young thuja hedge, and disappeared behind the house. In two minutes he was back again, spitting with satisfaction.
“Splendid! All dark and empty oh. Come forrard. We’ll persuade one of the front windows.”
They pushed through between the soft cypresses and reached the lawn in front of the cottage where the grey stone path went from the timber porch to the hedge of yews. Kentucky and the chauffeur piled their war-plant in the porch, and being rapid young gentlemen, lost no time in attacking one of the front windows.
“We are not going to burn this house!”
Eve hardly knew her own voice when she spoke. It sounded so thin, and quiet, and cold.
Lizzie Straker whisked round like a snappy terrier.
“What did you say?”
“This house is not going to be burnt.”