"Now what is it you want to do ?" They were standing in the centre of the wretched living-room.

The goose-boy was in the door, looking on with strangely alert, questioning eyes, ever and anon peering over his shoulder toward the spot where Hobbs stood with the horses.

He seldom took his gaze from the face of the old woman, a rat-like smile touching the corners of his fuzz-lined lips.
"I want to go through that kitchen, just to satisfy myself of one or two things." King was looking hard at the crack in the kitchen door.
Suddenly he started as if shot.
The staring, burning eye was again looking straight at him from the jagged crack in the door! "I'll get you this time," he shouted, crossing the room in two eager leaps.

The door responded instantly to his violent clutch, swung open with a bang, and disclosed the interior of the queer little kitchen.
The owner of that mocking, phantom eye was gone! Like a frantic dog, Truxton dashed about the little kitchen, looking in every corner, every crack for signs of the thing he chased.

At last he paused, baffled, mystified.