The ground
being wet, the carpet of dead leaves gave out no rustling sound as the
two men crept nearer and nearer to the top-heavy shadow that seemed
ready to lurch forward and swallow them whole.
At last they were within a few yards of the entrance and at the edge
of a small space that had been cleared of shrubbery. Here Sprouse
stopped and began to adjust the sections of his fishing-rod.
"Write," he whispered. "There is a faint glow of light up there to the
right. The third window, did you say? Well, that's about where I
should locate it. She has opened the window shutters. The light comes
into the room through the transom over the door, I would say. There is
probably a light in the hall outside."
A few minutes later, they crept across the open space and huddled
against the vine-covered facade of Green Fancy. Barnes was singularly
composed and free from nervousness, despite the fact that his whole
being tingled with excitement. What was to transpire within the next
few minutes? What was to be the end of this daring exploit? Was he to
see her, to touch her hand, to carry her off into that dungeon-like
forest,--and what was this new, exquisite thrill that ran through his
veins?
The tiny, metallic tip of the rod, held in the upstretched hand of
Barnes, much the taller of the two men, barely reached the window
ledge.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243