Dick disappeared through the door by which he had entered so quickly
that before Freda had had time to utter more than an exclamation, the
rows of real books and sham ones were again unbroken, and the noise of
a drawn bolt told her that it was of no use for her to try to follow
him.
She sat down again in a tumult of agitated feelings. Her heart felt
drawn out to this young fellow with what she thought must be gratitude
for his kindness. She looked with vivid interest at the various spots
in the room on which he had stood, and tried to imagine his figure in
them again. She even crossed to the bookshelves, and laid her hand on
the place where his had lain, and touched again the books which he had
handed to her. She felt so sorry for him, so sure that in his share of
the wicked enterprise of his cousin and her father, Dick had been
little more than a victim. And then these musings gave place to more
serious thoughts. She had two duties to perform; one was to tell
Crispin that there really was a government emissary on the look out,
the other was to warn John Thurley not to betray himself. This latter
duty was, however, clearly impossible for her to fulfil without the
aid of accident; but the former might be easier.
Now during all this time that Crispin had kept himself invisible to
her eyes, the night-noises which had alarmed Freda so much at first
had been continued regularly, with only this difference: that although
she had crept out to watch the panel-door in the gallery, no one had
passed through it, and no one had been visible in the courtyard. It
seemed clear then, to the girl, that there must be, as Dick had said,
some entrance to the house which she did not know of. To ascertain
this beyond a doubt, she laid an ingenious plan, and night having by
this time fallen, she proceeded to carry it out. For if, she said to
herself, she could once find the door by which the nocturnal exits and
entrances were made, she would not only be able to waylay Crispin as
he came in or went out, but would have a very important weapon in her
hand by this knowledge.
Freda had seen, in a corner of Mrs. Bean’s wash-house, a heap of
silver sand. Watching her opportunity, she filled her skirt with this,
slipped out, and making a careful tour of the house, stables, and
outbuildings, she put two narrow lines of the sand before every door,
including that by which Crispin had once carried her into the house.
The snow had by this time melted or been swept away from the
neighbourhood of all buildings, and in such places the ground had
dried sufficiently for her purpose. To do her work the more
thoroughly, she then went the round of the outer walls of the garden
and enclosures, and repeated her sand-strewing before every door she
found, and before the iron entrance gates. Then she crept back into
the house, feeling pretty sure that she had been unseen in the
moonless night, and went to bed, tired but full of excitement.
She was too restless to sleep, so presently she got up again, put on
her dressing-gown, and waited eagerly for a repetition of the usual
sounds. She was soon satisfied: first the distant mutterings, far
underneath her feet, then the mounting of slow feet up stone steps;
the voices subdued, but nearer; the moving of heavy burdens; a sound
of weights falling; the chink of glasses; a low murmur of talk in
men’s voices, the sounds gradually dying away. That was all. An hour,
by the little clock on her mantelpiece, from the first sound to the
last. Then all was quiet till morning, when Freda, after a disturbed
night of short snatches of sleep, woke with a start to the memory of
her undertaking. Ah! She had got them now! In an hour she would know
all about it; she would be able to waylay and confront them, if she
chose. And she almost thought she would choose.
Full of these ideas, Freda dressed hastily and ran downstairs. Nell
was busy in the kitchen; the place was as deserted as usual. She stole
out of the house with a loudly beating heart, feeling refreshed
instead of chilled by the air of the keen March morning. Stealthily,
with one eye on Nell’s quarters and one on her task, she began her
tour, her excitement increasing as door after door was reached, and
there was still no sign.
At last the tour was made, the inspection ended, in bitter
disappointment.
For the sand before every door was undisturbed.