"At the Scollays'!" she said, still panting. "But there's no time
to lose--you'll see everything if we only hurry--he may be back if
we don't!"
Sir Francis (of course) pocketed the spectacle case, and the whole five
of us set out at the double, Jean trotting in front between Jack and me,
and Sir Francis and the doctor clattering behind. My cousin and I each
tried a question, but we saw that Jean's breath would be better saved for
whatever was ahead, and so our voices fell silent and presently as we
left the high road our feet fell almost silent too. We only dropped to a
walk when the farm buildings loomed up close ahead, and then for a moment
Jean stopped us and listened intently.
"They are all in the house still," she whispered. "I think we are in
time!"
She led us, walking in single file and on our toes, into the midst of the
huddle of low houses until we came to one open, pitch-dark door. And then
she flashed a little torch and we followed her into a building which I
remembered distinctly. One end was the barn where I slept that memorable
first night in Ransay. The other was filled with a litter of odds and
ends--coils of rope, fishing nets, a barrel or two, spades, a pick-axe,
and I cannot remember what else. With feverish energy she pushed and
pulled these things aside, my cousin's torch lighting up the jumble,
until a large rough wooden box became visible, standing in the very
corner against the wall.
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