But the coast was clear.
Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom.

Mrs Pettigrew doesn't come there much, it's too many stairs.
With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed.

It sighed, but did not wake.

Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it did not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious fits, it would just as soon have done as not.
We expected Albert's uncle every minute.
At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald horse--one of the miller's horses.
A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins.

We could not remember having done anything wrong at the miller's.