CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE DARK HOUSE
The masses and drifts of snow in the courtyard were so deep, and the darkness was so thick that it was only by straining his recollection of the place that Wedgwood contrived, with great difficulty, to guide his bewildered companions to the stone porch. That, too, was filled with snow, and it was evident that no attempt had been made to clear it. Knowing no other entrance to the house he was obliged to force a way through the congregated mass to the door within—repeated knockings on that failed to produce any answer. Minutes went by; Mrs. Patello began to protest that she could bear the exposure no longer; Mr. Patello suggested they should seek the rear of the house. But just then Wedgwood was aware of a voice on the other side of the door, faintly enquiring who was there—Mrs. Patello revived.
"That's Mattie!" she exclaimed. "Oh, tell her to let us in!"
"Your father and mother!" shouted Wedgwood. "Open the door!"
The undoing of bolts, the turning of keys took
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