He stood still, his muscles contracting, his lips curling, a black,
jealous anger in his heart. Taggart was there again.
But he would not escape this time. He would take care to make no noise
which would scare him away. He listened at the door, but he heard no
voices. They were in there, though, he could distinguish slight
movements. He left the door and stole softly up the stairs to his
room, getting his boots and carrying them in his hand. As before, he
intended putting them on at the kitchen door. But Bob's dog would not
betray him this time, for since the other accident he had contrived to
persuade Bob to keep the dog outside at night. Nor would there occur
any other accident--he would take care of that. And so it took him a
long time to descend the stairs and make his way to the kitchen door.
Once outside, he drew on his boots and stole silently and swiftly to
the front door of the house.
To his astonishment, when he arrived at the door, there was no light,
no sound to indicate that anybody was in the room. He tried the
door--it was barred. He stepped to the window. If there was a light
within it would show through the cracks and holes in the shade, for the
latter was old and well worn.
But no light appeared. If there was anyone inside they must have heard
him in spite of his carefulness, and had put out the light.
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