Part 5 (1/2)
”He is ill,” cried Miss Euphemia, in alarm. ”I noted he looked pale last night.”
”Much more likely 'tis some device to alarm us,” said Oliver, seizing the chisel, and Miss Euphemia followed him as he went hurriedly up the front staircase. At its top stood Huntington.
”Captain Yorke is a sound sleeper,” he said, addressing Oliver. ”I have knocked at his door several times and get no response.”
”My mind misgives me,” said Oliver, fitting his chisel in the door and striking vigorously with the hammer; ”and yet I made sure there was no chance for escape,--ha!” as the door swung open and discovered the closed shutters and the last flickering gleams of the dying candle upon the table. ”Good heavens, Huntington, he has flown!”
”Flown!” cried Josiah, rus.h.i.+ng after Oliver, as Miss Euphemia joined the party, and Pamela, with Dolly, opened her door across the hall, hearing the commotion. ”And how? Surely not by the chimney?”
”I wish you had suggested that earlier,” said Oliver bitterly. ”I am a dolt and a fool's head not to have thoroughly examined it last night,”
and he rushed across into Betty's chamber to find a candle with which to investigate the treacherous exit.
”Have a care, Oliver,” cried Betty, as her brother entered without knocking, to find her with her hair over her shoulders, brush in hand.
”What do you please to want?”
”Your candle,” said Oliver, catching up the one upon her table, and then pausing, as he was about to rush out again. ”Did you hear any noises last night, Betty?”
”Noises?” answered Betty, facing him calmly, ”of what nature?”
”In the great chimney,” said Oliver, eying her sternly.
”I did not,” said Betty, with truth, returning inward thanks that to that question she could reply without falsehood. ”Why did you ask?”
”You will find out soon enough,” said Oliver, das.h.i.+ng down the hall, without closing the door, and hurrying to the kitchen for a light. By the time he returned, he found Josiah half way up the chimney.
”Here are pegs,” he called out, as Oliver sent the ray of the lighted candle upward. ”'Tis easy enough to see how our prisoner escaped. Fool that I was not to have searched this place,” and he let himself down again, where the bewildered group stood around the chimney-piece.
”The fault is mine alone,” cried Oliver furiously; ”let us get out on the roof and see if we can discover how he made his descent to the ground.”
”By the great elm,” exclaimed Pamela, who had unfastened the shutters with Josiah's help; ”see, the branches overhang the roof just here, and I think there are some pieces of the bark on the ground below.” All of which was true, and quick-witted of Pamela; but Moppet could have explained the presence of the bits of bark, for, as it happened, the child had emptied her ap.r.o.n under the elm the day before, and the bark was some she had gathered in the orchard for the bits of fungus which, at night, were phosph.o.r.escent, and which Moppet called ”fairy lamps.”
”True,” said Josiah, leaning out of the window, ”and there are footsteps in the tall gra.s.s yonder,” pointing westward, where his keen eye perceived a fresh path broken in the meadow. ”I must follow Oliver to the roof; this will be a dire blow to him, as he thought his prisoner so carefully guarded.”
”How clever of him to escape under our very ears,” said Dolly to Pamela; ”how could Captain Yorke contrive to climb down so softly that no one heard him? Is not Miss Euphemia's chamber on this side?”
”Yes,” said Pamela, turning away from the window, ”and so is Moppet's; where is Aunt Euphemia?” and running out into the hall, she encountered both Betty and her aunt on the way to Moppet's apartment.
”Hus.h.!.+” whispered Betty, with hand on the latch, ”I hope she is still sleeping. Moppet came into my room in the night, Aunt Euphemia, and was so cold and s.h.i.+vering that I went back with her and put her to bed. I got a drink of milk for her, and it seemed to quiet her.”
”That was quite right,” said Miss Euphemia. ”I have been afraid that the plunge in the pond did her some injury,” and she opened the door softly, only to see Miss Moppet's curly head rise up from her pillow, and to hear her say with a sleepy yawn:--
”What is it all about? Where's Betty?”
”Here I am,” said Betty, giving her a kiss. ”Did you sleep soundly after the milk?”
”Yes, and I want some more,” said Moppet, seizing the situation with such alacrity that Betty suspected on the instant that the keen little ears had been on the alert for more minutes than Moppet cared to acknowledge. ”What are you all coming in for? Is it dinner-time?”
”No,” interrupted Pamela, ”we have not even had breakfast. Captain Yorke has escaped in the night”--
”Escaped!” cried Moppet, the liveliest curiosity in her tone. ”Oh, I'm so glad! Aren't you, Betty?”