It was man's work. She made a brave
dash through the hall, mercifully unmolested: found the stairs: raced up
them: and fell through the doorway of her son Eustace's bedroom like a
spent Marathon runner staggering past the winning-post.
2
In the moment which elapsed before either of the two could calm their
agitated brains to speech, Eustace became aware, as never before, of
the truth of that well-known line, "Peace, perfect Peace, with loved
ones far away!"
"Eustace!"
Mrs. Hignett gasped, hand on heart.
"Eustace, there are men in the house!"
This fact was just the one which Eustace had been wondering how to
break to her.
"I know," he said uneasily.
"You know!" Mrs. Hignett stared. "Did you hear them!"
"Hear them?" said Eustace, puzzled.
"The drawing-room window was left open, and there are two burglars in
the hall."
"Oh, I say, no! That's rather rotten!" said Eustace.
"I saw and heard them. Come with me and arrest them."
"But I can't. I've sprained my ankle.
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