The thought urged me forward.
A small clump of low bushes--gooseberries, I judged from the thorns--was within a few yards of the house, the balance of the distance a closely trimmed turf.

The bottom of the window through which the light shone was even with my eyes when standing erect, but I could perceive no movement of any occupants, a small wooden balcony, more for ornament than for practical use, shutting off the view.

I grasped the rail of this with my hands and drew my body slowly up, endeavoring to keep to one side out of the direct range of light.

This effort yielded but a glimpse of one corner of the seemingly deserted interior, and I crouched down within the rail, cautiously seeking to discover more.

Fortunately the wooden support did not creak under my weight.