"It has stopped in the far corner," I said. "There seems to be wood or
something."
"It's bundles of wood," he whispered. "I know the place. Sit down, and
tell me if it moves."
I sat down, and waited long and wearily, while he moved heavy bundles of
firewood, pausing now and then to ask, "Is it here still?" At last he
asked no more; and in a quarter of an hour he only spoke once: then it
was to say--
"This plank has been moved."
After a while he came away to look for a spade. He found one, and went
back again. At last a smothered sound made me spring up and rush to him;
but he met me, driving me back.
"I beg of you, dear Miss Dorothy, keep away. Have you a handkerchief
with you?"
I had one, and gave it to him. His hands were covered with earth. He had
only just gone back again when I gave a cry--
"Robert! _It has gone!_"
He came up to me, keeping one hand behind him.
"Miss Dorothy, if ever you were good and brave, hold out now!"
I beat my hands together--"It has gone! It has gone!"
"It has not gone!" he said. "Master Edmund's hand is in this
handkerchief. It has been buried under a plank of the flooring!"
I gasped, "Let me see it!"
But he would not. "No, no! my dear lady, you must not--cannot.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52