why it was that she opened it so gently and waited so
long upon the threshold, every nerve tensed to detect alien sound in
the stillness of the empty house. But it was as if with darkness those
vacant rooms and passages had become populous with strange, hostile
spirits. She heard nothing whatever, yet it was with an effect of
peril strong upon her senses that she stole forth through the hallway
and up the stairs to the topmost floor, where, perched precariously
upon the iron ladder, she tried her patience sorely with a stubborn
scuttle-cover before recalling the click that had accompanied its
closing--the click of a spring-latch.

And this last, when gropingly located, proved equally obdurate; she
fumbled doggedly until back and limbs ached with the strain of her
position; but her fingers lacked cunning to solve the secret; and in
the end, when on the point of climbing down to fetch matches, she
heard a sound that chilled her heart and checked her breath in a
twinkling--an odd, scuffling noise on the roof.

At first remote and confused, it drew nearer and grew more
clear--a sound of light footfalls on the sheet-tin.

Her self-confidence and satisfaction measurably dashed, she climbed
down, so fearful of betraying herself to the person on the roof that
she went to the absurd extreme of gathering her skirts up tightly to
still their silken murmur.

Now she must leave by the street. And now she remembered the policeman
who kept nightly vigil at the avenue crossing!

She was beginning to be definitely frightened, vividly picturing to
herself the punishment that must follow detection.

And as she crept down-stairs, guided only by the banister-rail, the
sense of her loneliness and helplessness there in that strange, dark
place worked upon the temper of the girl until her plight, however
real, was exaggerated hideously and endued with terrors so frightful
that she was ready to scream at the least alarm.

CHAPTER III

ACCESSARY AFTER THE FACT

At the foot of the stairs Sally paused in the entry-hall, thoughtfully
considering the front door, the pale rectangle of whose plate-glass
was stenciled black with the pattern of a lace panel. But she decided
against risking that avenue of escape; it would be far less foolhardy
to steal away _via_ the basement, unostentatiously, that the
always-possible passer-by might more readily take her for a servant.

Turning back, then, toward the basement staircase, she began to gro