'Don't let's burgle--I mean do daring and dashing rescue acts--till
we've given her a chance. Let's ring and ask to see her.'

The others hated to do this, but at last they agreed, on condition
that Anthea would not make any silly fuss about the burglary
afterwards, if it really had to come to that.

So they knocked and rang, and a scared-looking parlourmaid opened
the front door. While they were asking for Mrs Biddle they saw
her. She was in the dining-room, and she had already pushed back
the table and spread out the carpet to see how it looked on the
floor.

'I knew she didn't want it for her servants' bedroom,' Jane
muttered.

Anthea walked straight past the uncomfortable parlourmaid, and the
others followed her. Mrs Biddle had her back to them, and was
smoothing down the carpet with the same boot that had trampled on
the hand of Robert. So that they were all in the room, and Cyril,
with great presence of mind, had shut the room door before she saw
them.

'Who is it, Jane?' she asked in a sour voice; and then turning
suddenly, she saw who it was. Once more her face grew violet--a
deep, dark violet. 'You wicked daring little things!' she cried,
'how dare you come here? At this time of night, too. Be off, or
I'll send for the police.'