nose about, but there was no telling when a human grizzly might appear and demand just who had been interfering with his household furniture. And like Golden-Locks, I knew I'd then have to jump from a window and make for the tall timber.
It was as I came to a standstill, half-way down the wide stairway, that the first betraying sign of life came to me from below. It may have been a disturbing sign, but it was at least an appetizing one. For 1 distinctly caught the smell of cooking bacon. And mixed with it, in a sort of symphony of perfumes, was the even more compelling aroma of coffee.
If it was a trap, it was at least a well-baited one. For whatever I may have expected, or may have been afraid of, I could no more resist that mingled smell of coffee and bacon than a mouse can keep away from well-toasted cheese. It drew me like a magnet down through that house of silence. And before I knew it I'd stumbled into a sort of breakfast-room where the sun was shining in through a double pair of French windows and a table with a snow-white cloth was laid for two. It looked appealing enough, but instead of a partner I found a sheet of paper propped up against the sugar-bowl. On this sheet was written:
