He rose, sat on the edge of the bed, and clasped his hands between his
knees. The room was in darkness except the spot of light on the wall
behind the book. Below he heard the horses crunching their corn and
hay. He took from his pocket Sue Dawson's letters and the one from
Sally and wrapped them in a piece of paper. Then he looked about for a
place to hide them. In a corner overhead he saw a jutting rafter, and
behind it a dark niche where the shingles sloped to the wall. It was
too high for him to reach from the floor, so he placed the table
beneath the spot, and, mounting it, pushed the packet tightly into the
corner. Then he stepped down and removed the table, cautiously, that
Washburn might not hear him, and sat on the bed again. He remained
there motionless for twenty minutes. Suddenly a rat ran across the
floor with a scrap of paper in its mouth. He stared at the place where
the rat had disappeared as if bewildered, then rose, placed the table
back against the wall, secured the packet, and put it into his pocket.




Chapter XII

Westerfelt knew he could not sleep, and, seeing the moonlight shining
through his window, he decided to take a walk. He went below.
Washburn sat in a little circle of candle-light mending a piece of
harness.

"Has the hack come in yet?" asked Westerfelt, remembering that he had
paid little attention to business that day.