And yet, on looking
steadily, did he not discern something at one of the windows on the top
story--something like a curtain or a blind? And had not that same window
the appearance of having been more recently cleaned than the others? He
could not be sure; perhaps he only fancied these things. With neck aching
from the strained position in which he had made his survey over the wall,
the young man turned away. In the same moment 'Home, Sweet Home' came to an
end, and, but for the cry of a milkman, the early-morning silence was
undisturbed.
Goldthorpe pursued his walk, thinking of what he had seen, and wondering
what it all meant. On his way back he made a point of again passing the
deserted houses, and again he peered over the wall of the passage. The man
was still there, but no longer seated with the concertina; wearing a round
felt hat instead of the straw, he stood almost knee-deep in vegetation, and
appeared to be examining the various growths about him. Presently he moved
forward, and, with head still bent, approached the lower end of the garden,
where, in a wall higher than that over which Goldthorpe made his espial,
there was a wooden door. This the man opened with a key, and, having passed
out, could be heard to turn a lock behind him.
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