For if the intruder--dog, cat, whatever it was--burst the outer door and got into the tapestry room, my fears, she told me afterwards, would, she felt sure, have become uncontrollable.

It was a brave thing to do--was it not?
She deserved to succeed, and she did.

With the poker's help she managed to turn the key, and then with a sigh of relief she stood still for a moment listening.
The sounds continued--whatever it was it was evidently what Mrs.Atkins had heard the night before--a shuffling, rushing-about sound, then a sort of impatient breathing.

Mary came back to me somewhat reassured.
"'Laura,' she said, 'I keep to my first opinion.

It is a dog, or a cat, or some animal.' "'But suppose it is a _mad_ dog ?' I said, somewhat unwilling to own that my terrors had been exaggerated.
"'It is possible, but not probable,' she replied.