Part 46 (1/2)

Philip's heart beat with eager satisfaction. He had expected that he would be obliged to go to bed, and wait there till his father and mother were asleep, then steal downstairs, running the risk of detection, light a lamp, and commit the theft. Now it looked as if he could do it much more easily.

He answered, in as indifferent a voice as he could a.s.sume:

”I am not at all sleepy. I'll stay up a little longer and read.”

Mrs. Ross nodded, in a satisfied way, to her husband.

”I do believe Phil's getting fond of reading,” she said.

”I hope he is,” returned the father.

”Phil,” said his mother, ”the servant is out tonight. A cousin of hers is sick, and I gave her permission to stay with her all night. Are you willing to close up the house?”

”Oh, yes,” answered Phil, briskly. ”I'm glad she's away,” he thought.

”She won't be spying round and see what I'm about. Besides, I can leave the door open, so that it will be easier to accuse Harry Gilbert.”

”Good-night,” said his mother.

”Good-night, mother.”

”Don't stay up too late reading.”

”No, I won't.”

”How many more pages are there, Philip?” asked his father.

”About four hundred,” answered Phil, looking over to the end.

”Then I wouldn't advise you to sit up till you've finished the book,” he said, jocosely.

”I guess not. I shan't sit up more than half an hour.”

So Colonel and Mrs. Ross went upstairs, and the coast was clear.

When he was left alone, and felt that the hour so long antic.i.p.ated had come, Philip's heart beat fast.

”Come; it's easier than I hoped,” he said to himself. ”And father left his keys, too, on the desk. I hope he won't think of them, and come downstairs after them. That might upset my plans, though I've got a lot of old keys in my pocket, and one of them might answer. However, there's none so good as the real thing.”

Philip had to consider whether he would wait till his father and mother were asleep, or act sooner. He at length decided, in the words of Shakespeare, though he was not familiar with them:

”If 'twere done with when 'tis done, Then, 'twere well it were done quickly.”

The argument was this: If he acted soon, he could make use of his father's keys, and that would save him trouble. On the other hand, there was some risk that his father might think of them, and, coming downstairs, surprise him. However, Philip didn't think this was likely, and, in any event, he resolved to take the risk. He could pretend that he had just caught sight of his keys, and was going to carry them upstairs for safekeeping.

Indeed, Philip did not wait more than ten minutes.

”Father must be in bed by this time,” he said to himself.

He took the small lamp by which he was reading, and entered his father's office.