leave them there was unthinkable—though the fine rain which had followed the golden sunset made the rescue party anything but a party of pleasure.
"We must change our shoes and put on mackers," said Jane. "Bother! I thought of course you'd got them. And you thought I had. But we can't leave them there. Cedar Court's just the place to be burgled. I'm sure I wonder it hasn't been ten times over. Come on."
Cedar Court and its trees loomed dark through the rain. The one gas-lamp nearly opposite its gate gave light for the fitting of the key to the padlock. But no key was needed. The padlock was undone.
"I thought you fastened it," said Jane.
"No—don't you remember? Old Mr. Rochester did it: at least, I hope he didn't do it. I hope it's only that, and not a burglar who has opened it with a skeleton key."
"Don't talk about skeletons," said Jane. "It's quite bad enough as it is."
"You're not frightened?" Lucilla asked, in a voice that was not quite steady.
"No—and I don't want to be," Jane answered firmly. "Come on."
The door of the garden room was well and truly fastened. But when they had undone it and crossed the threshold Jane suddenly shut the door and bolted it.
"Draw the curtains," she said, "before we strike a light."
Lucilla obeyed. Then by the irresolute glimmer of a newly-lighted candle they looked round the room.
It was empty of any human presence except their own.
"So that's all right," said Jane.
"Oh, Jane," said Lucy, "suppose there had been a burglar in here, and we'd locked ourselves in with him! How frightful!"
"Yes, dear," said Jane, "I thought of that, the minute I'd bolted the door. However, it's all right, so far." She opened the cupboard, held the candle to its dark depths and closed the door again quickly.
