in place of panels in the upper half. The glass over the knob had been broken and pulled out.
A plain, storm door—now removed—ordinarily protected this oak door; so the glass must have been broken after the recent opening of the house. This evidence of violence accordingly shortened the moments that Ethel was willing to wait after vainly pulling the bell. She thrust an arm through the hole so plainly prepared for turning the lock from the outside and, opening the door, she entered.
"You want dogs?" Asa whispered to her, stepping into the hall immediately behind her and catching her arm to prevent her from proceeding alone.
"No; we'd better keep them out."
The Indian closed the door upon them. "You stay there!" he commanded. "You be quiet."
He had made no comment upon discovering the broken glass, as he had yet volunteered no remark about any of the proceedings. But now he said:
"Bagley got key from Wheedon; Barney Loutrelle come yesterday when Bagley right here and let him in. You know that?"
"I'd supposed so," Ethel said. She recognized that Asa was informing her that neither Bagley nor Barney Loutrelle would have broken the glass over the lock. Asa was maintaining his grasp of her sleeve while they stood listening and looking around. There was no sound from within the house; the dull, frequent noises were echoes of the ice cracking or lifting or settling as some current swept around Resurrection Rock and the warmer temperatures of the water encountered the frigid sheath of the surface.
The hall was wide and pleasant, lit by two windows as well as by the panes in the door; it was furnished
