men were the next sounds to be heard. After that, there was a pause
of silence--a long pause, broken by Mrs. Ronald, calling again from the
upper regions. "Take the child into the back parlour, nurse, and wait
till I come to you. It's cooler there, at this time of the day."
The wailing of an infant, and the gruff complaining of the nurse, were
the next sounds that reached Farnaby in his hiding place. The nurse was
grumbling to herself over the grievance of having been awakened from her
sleep. "After being up all night, a person wants rest. There's no rest
for anybody in this house. My head's as heavy as lead, and every bone in
me has got an ache in it."
Before long, the renewed silence indicated that she had succeeded in
hushing the child to sleep. Farnaby forgot the restraints of caution for
the first time. His face flushed with excitement; he ventured nearer to
the window, in his eagerness to find out what might happen next. After
no long interval, the next sound came--a sound of heavy breathing, which
told him that the drowsy nurse was falling asleep again. The window-sill
was within reach of his hands. He waited until the heavy breathing
deepened to snoring. Then he drew himself up by the window-sill, and
looked into the room.
The nurse was fast asleep in an armchair; and the child was fast asleep
on her lap.
He dropped softly to the ground again. Taking off his shoes, and putting
them in his pockets, he ascended the two or three steps which led to the
half-open back garden door. Arrived in the passage, he could just
hear them talking upstairs. They were no doubt still absorbed in their
troubles; he had only the servant to dread. The splashing of water in
the kitchen informed him that she was safely occupied in washing. Slowly
and softly he opened the back parlour door, and stole across the room to
the nurse's chair.
One of her hands still rested on the child. The serious risk was the
risk of waking her, if he lost his presence of mind and hurried it!
He glanced at the American clock on the mantelpiece. The result relieved
him; it was not so late as he had feared. He knelt down, to steady
himself, as nearly as possible on a level with the nurse's knees. By a
hair's breadth at a time, he got both hands under the child. By a hair's
breadth at a time, he drew the child away from her; leaving her hand
resting on her lap by degrees so gradual that the lightest sleeper could
not have felt the change. That don
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