Charles stood still, but did not raise his hands. "I'm going up to my room," he said, calmly. He now saw Frazier in his white underclothing, leaning over the balustrade, the revolver aimed at him.
"To your room, with your shoes in your hand?" was the incredulous retort. The revolver was lowered reluctantly and Frazier swore in his throat. "Is that the way you come and go in the house of decent people?" he went on, insultingly.
Beside himself with rage, Charles silently pursued his way up the stairs. Frazier seemed surprised at receiving no answer, and, with the weapon swinging at his side, he muttered something under his breath and retreated to his room door.
"I'll look into this," he called out. "I'm sure Mr. Rowland doesn't know this sort of a thing is going on under his roof."
In a flash of far-reaching insight Charles saw the disastrous consequences of a nocturnal row with the bully. Mary was then outside the house, and if Frazier were to catch her returning no sort of explanation except the truth would satisfy him. What was to be done? In an instant Charles took the only available course, crushing his pride to accomplish it.
"I am sorry I disturbed you, Mr. Frazier," he said to the white figure in the doorway. "I took off my shoes to make as little noise as possible. I am sorry, too, that I have forgotten something and must go back after it. I'll try not to disturb you when I return."
With a low growl, Frazier vanished in his room. Charles heard him drop the revolver on a table and the creaking of the bed as he sank on it. Down the stairs Charles went. Slipping on his shoes outside, he crept around the house toward the barn, over-joyed by the discovery that Mary was not yet in sight. At the barn-yard fence he paused. He could hear low voices from the dark loft; now it was Mary speaking, now Martin, now Kenneth. Charles crept to the main door and softly whistled. Immediately there was silence within the building. Then a whistle sounded. It was Mary's, he was sure, and he heard her descending the narrow steps from the loft.
Frightened she must have been, for when she reached him she was all aquiver and her voice hung dead in her throat.
"Don't worry," he said, promptly, to allay her fears. "All is safe, but I had to warn you."
Kenneth and Martin were now at her side, and he explained the situation to them all. "I was afraid you might come in at the front door and be seen by him," Charles said. "You see, he may not go to sleep easily, and—"