When the man’s head reappeared, he came up briskly.
“All right?” she asked.
“All right,” he responded.
“Did you test the other end?”
“Right enough—” said the man. “Safe as a church! The water barrel in the garden stuck a little—but I eased it up—” He looked back into the hole, as he stepped out. “Too bad we had to take her down,” he said regretfully.
“The police might ’a’ stopped,” said the woman. “You couldn’t tell.”
They swung the barrel in place, and blew out the lantern, and the man ascended1 the stair. After a few minutes the woman came up. The kitchen was empty. The fire burning briskly cast a line of light beneath the hearth2, and on the top of the stove the kettle hummed quietly. She lighted a lamp and lifted the kettle, filling her dishpan with soft steam.... Any one peering in at the open window would have seen only a tall woman, with high shoulders, bending above her cloud of steam and washing dishes, with a quiet, round face absorbed in thought.
When she had finished at the sink and tidied the room, she took the lamp and went into the small hall at the rear, and mounted the steep stairs. At the top she paused and fitted a key and entered a low room. She put down the lamp and crossed to the door on the other side&mdash............