40 J. COLE.

My husband assured me it was nothing alarm-
ing, and he went down-stairs, but could neither
hear or see anything unusual. All was quiet.

Another night I felt sure I heard sounds
down-stairs; and in spite of my husband’s ad-
vice to remain still, I called Mrs. Wilson, and
entreated her to come down to the kitchen-
floor with me. It was so very easy, I knew,
for anybody to enter the house from the back,
and there being a deep area all round, they
could work away with their tools at the
ground-floor back windows unseen. Any one
could get on the top of the stable from the
mews, drop into the garden, and be safe; for
the watchman and policeman were on duty in
the front of the house only, the back was
quite unprotected. True, there were iron bars
to Joe’s window and the kitchen, but iron
bars could be sawed through, and I lived in
dread of burglars.

This night Mrs. Wilson and I went softly
down, and as we neared the kitchen stairs, I
heard a voice say in a whisper, ‘“ Make haste!”

“There, Mrs. Wilson, did you hear that?”
I said. “Was that imagination? ”’