She lifted her head as mother animals prick their ears above their young at the faint sound of any danger.
After an interval the tap was repeated; it was no accidental noise.
Susannah laid the child in its cradle and went nearer the window shutters, hesitating.
She knew only too well that this secrecy was the sign of some one's dire distress.

She knew the habits of the people; a neighbour's aid was sought freely and with confidence; doors were open at all times to need or social intercourse.
To her intent listening the accents of a low and guarded tone came in reply to her challenge; the voice was Joseph Smith's.
Susannah looked with anguish toward her child's cradle.

Had some army of mad persecutors invested Kirtland?
Nothing less than fierce persecution could be thus heralded.
For years Susannah had known Smith as a near neighbour, and the stuff of which the man was at this time made is indicated by the fact that instinctively she opened the window with noiseless haste.
Smith climbed in.

"Has Halsey returned ?" The fire gave the only light in the room.

Smith did not shut the window, but remained sitting on the sill.