of her face. She sat upright on the rough flooring, apparently regarding me intently.
"Do you find the way left clear?"
"So far as the upper hall is concerned—yes. There is a light burning below, although I can perceive no movement. They may be in the dining room, but I do not believe they will search up here again."
"You propose then lowering the ladder?"
The tone in which she asked these questions vexed me, her voice somehow sounded lifeless and cold.
"We shall certainly be more comfortably concealed in one of those rooms below," I answered, endeavoring to speak naturally, "and better able to accept any opportunity for escape which may offer."
"Yes?" The slight rising inflection stung me. What did her actions mean? Why should she so suddenly assume that tone with me? The sooner I knew the better.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Harwood," I said quietly, "but I fail to understand why you should speak to me in this manner. You have shown confidence, trust, in my former efforts to serve you, and I am just as eager now to be of service."
"You mean you wish me to have complete confidence in you?"
"Certainly. I can do nothing otherwise."
