ceeded further and discovered her grandfather squatted before a heap of old books and receipt cases and files, ledgers and bundles of documents, dust-encrusted and brown with age, which had lain undisturbed in that corner of the attic floor as long as Ethel could remember.
Her grandfather had cut the strings binding some of the bundles, and he sneezed from the cold and from the dust he raised as he tore the old paper across. He looked about suddenly and, seeing Ethel, rose to his feet.
"What d'you want here?" he demanded.
"What are you doing?" she returned in defiance. "Grandfather, what's brought you up here?"
He advanced upon her for answer and, as the lantern now was behind him, she could not see his face. He seized her and by physical force thrust her toward the trapdoor.
"Lad came back with blood on him," she cried. "Blood!"
"Of course; he caught the fox. You—you—go to your bed and stay there."
She found her feet upon the stairs, and she went down; he lowered the trapdoor as she descended and, when he had closed it, she heard him move something upon it. For a few moments she stood trembling in the dark, too overwrought for any ordered thought; then she went to the end of the hall which was Miss Platt's and her husband's and rapped upon their door.
No one answered for some time; then Miss Platt's voice asked who was there; and when Ethel replied, Miss Platt came to the other side of the door but did not open it.
"What is the matter, Miss Carew?" she inquired.
"I want to see Mr. Kincheloe!" Ethel said.
