The door had closed after the two men. Bessie could hear vague
movements, but nothing more. Presently she could bear it no longer. She
went to the door and opened it.

She was just in time. By the light of the bit of candle that John held,
she saw Saunders sitting on the stair, the shadow of his huge frame
thrown back on the white wall; she saw him stoop suddenly, as a bird
pounces; she heard an exclamation--then a sound of metal.

Her involuntary cry startled the men above.

'All right, Mrs. Costrell,' said Saunders, briskly--'all right. We'll be
down directly.'

She came back into the kitchen, a mist before her eyes, and fell heavily
on a chair by the fire. Mary Anne approached her, only to be pushed
back. The widow stood listening, in an agony.

It took Saunders a minute or two to complete his case. Then he slowly
descended the stairs, carrying the box, his great weight making the
house shake. He entered the kitchen first, John behind him. But at the
same moment that they appeared, the outer door opened, and Isaac
Costrell, preceded by a gust of snow, stood on the threshold.

'Why, John!' he cried, in amazement--'an _Saunders_!'

He looked at them, then at Mary Anne, then at his wife.

There was an instant's dead silence.