No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Dutch; Pennsylvania Dutch. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes.
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