“It’s a pity it’s so dark. Here it’s worse than ever. I can’t see my hand before my face, can you?” I could not. I told her so.
“Well, we’ll have to feel, that’s all; and we’ll hope that we’re in the right backyard. It would be something more than a joke if we weren’t; they might take us for burglars. Come on; give me your hand again; we’ll feel our way—tread carefully whatever you do. Hollo! here is a door. And—Emily, there’s the spot of light! Do you see it there upon the door? As uncle says, it shines at us. Whether it’s luminous paint, or whether it’s something much more wonderful, truly, it lightens our darkness. Doesn’t it, my dear? Where is that key?”
I could see, straight in front of us, a round spot of something which gleamed. It was not bigger than a threepenny piece. It might have been a monster glow-worm. Or, as Polly said, a dab of luminous paint. But there was no time to ascertain what it was, because, almost as soon as I saw it, I heard something too.
“Pollie, there’s someone coming along the passage.”
In the silence, there was what was obviously the sound of feet, feet which were apparently moving as if they did not wish to be heard.
