Part 5 (1/2)

He scrambled eagerly to his feet, and tapped softly. ”Gridley!” he whispered, ”Gridley! Is that you?”

No one answered, but the bearer of the light seemed to pause in the middle of the floor as if struck by a sudden thought. Then Jack heard the bolts of the outer door withdrawn, and even in his closet felt a rush of cold air. Some one was going out!

”Gridley! Gridley!” he cried desperately. ”Let me out, will you?

Please let me out.”

But Gridley, if Gridley it was, took no heed. The light disappeared, and Jack heard the door close as softly as it had been opened.

He sat down, whimpering and wondering. The use of candles was so uncommon in that house that he could not remember to have once seen one lighted, though he knew that a lanthorn hung behind the kitchen door. Who then was this who used them, and went in and out by night with a foot fall which scarcely broke the stillness? The lad felt his hair move and his skin creep as he crouched trembling in the darkness.

Then, on a sudden, he heard the door creak afresh and the footstep return--the same stealthy, cautious footstep, it seemed to him, which he had heard before. But this time there was no light.

None the less was he sure that some one was now standing in the middle of the floor, within a yard or two of his place of confinement. His ears, strained to the utmost, caught the sound of hurried breathing close to him, and besides he had that ill-defined sense of another's presence which we are all apt to feel. Terrified as he was, he still clung desperately to the idea that it was Gridley, and he called the man's name again, his voice shaking with fear. To his surprise he this time got an answer.

”Hus.h.!.+” some one muttered in the darkness. ”Who is that?”

”It is I--Jack,” the boy cried joyfully ”Please to let me out.”

”Where are you?”

”I am locked in the closet by the fireplace, Gridley.”

”Hus.h.!.+ Is the key in the door?”

”I think so!” Jack answered desperately. ”Oh, please, please let me out.”

There was the sound of a hand being pa.s.sed over the door, as if some one unacquainted with it, and uncertain on which side it opened, were groping for the fastening. It seemed an age to the boy before the key grated suddenly in the lock and the door yielded, and he felt the cold air rush in. For a moment he still hung back.

”Is it you, Gridley?” he whispered timidly, putting out his hand and trying to pierce the darkness, which was scarcely less dense in the kitchen than in the closet.

”No, it is I--Frank!” his brother's voice answered. And thereon a hand seized him roughly by the shoulder and drew him out. ”I must have food--food!” the voice hissed in his ear. ”Don't waste a moment, lad, but tell me where it is kept. The woman is outside digging among the trees--heaven knows on what witch's errand! She may return at any moment. Where is the food kept?”

The harsh, fierce note in his brother's voice did more than any words to persuade the boy of the necessity of haste. Collecting his senses as well as he could, he answered, ”Will oatmeal do, Frank?”

”Better than nothing,” was the answer. ”Where is the tub? Lead me to it.”

Jack felt his way to the chest, and found it; to his joy it was still unfastened. His brother rapidly took out several handfuls and thrust them into his pouch. ”Have you no cheese, oatcake, nothing else, lad?”

he muttered.

Jack remembered the sc.r.a.ps of cheese and cake which he still carried in the bosom of his jacket, and gave them into the other's hand. ”Now I am off,” Frank muttered on the instant. ”I can do with this until to-morrow night. If the woman finds me here I must do her a mischief, and I do not want to. So good-night, lad!”

He glided hurriedly away, leaving the child standing in the middle of the floor. Jack heard him go, and heard the door open and shut; and still stood listening, wondering whether it was all a dream, or his brother had really been and was gone. a.s.sured at length that he had had to do with reality, he wondered what course he ought to take himself. He had no mind to go back to his former prison, in comparison with which his hard bed upstairs seemed the height of comfort; and so he presently crept to the closet door, and turned the key, and then felt his way up to his room. Gridley was not there, but this troubled him little. He threw off his clothes in a hurry, and in a moment was in bed, where he lay listening with all his ears. He heard Mistress Gridley come back, and detected the sound of the key as she turned it in the outer door. He trembled lest she should come up to look for him, but nothing of the kind happened; and while he still listened, the fatigues of the day proved too much for him and he fell asleep.

It was broad day, and the sun had been up for hours, and the house astir as many, when he awoke in his bed and found three people gazing at him. Instinctively at sight of their faces he began to cry, expecting a blow, or to be roughly plucked up and upbraided for his laziness. But no blow came, nor did either of the three persons who looked at him with eyes of such astonishment and perplexity offer to touch him.

”You are sure that the door was really locked?” one of the men was saying when he awoke.

”Am I sure that you stand there?” the woman answered tartly. ”Am I one to make a mistake of that kind?”

Simon Gridley shook his head. ”I remember now,” he muttered, ”that I tried the door myself. It was locked sure enough.”