When she tied up the letters and looked at the clock it was later than she thought.  The room felt cold and she shivered, but sat still for a few moments, musing.  The house was quiet and she imagined Mrs. Farnam was asleep; but it was snowing, for she heard the flakes beat upon the window.  Looking round the comfortable room, she thought of the men who braved the rigors of winter in the frozen wilds.  Thirlwell, for example, was bearing such cold as was never felt in South Ontario.

She started, for there was a noise overhead, as if a door had been gently opened, but next moment pulled herself together.  Mabel had not gone to sleep as she had thought, and picking up an electric torch, she put out the lamp.  When she was half way up the stairs she heard somebody moving about, but it was not like Mabel’s step.  The movements seemed cautious, and there was something awkward about them.  Agatha, who wore felt-soled slippers, stopped and listened, while her heart beat fast.  She heard nothing now, but felt alarmed, and wondered what she ought to do.  A call would probably bring an answer that would banish her fears; but suppose it was not Mabel she had heard?  There was, however, another way of finding out, and with something of an effort she went upstairs.

Mrs. Farnam’s room was on the landing, and Agatha turned the handle cautiously.  The door would not open, and it was obvious that Mabel had locked herself in.  Then the latch slipped back with a jar that sounded horribly loud, and she waited, trembling and trying to keep calm.  Since Mabel had not heard the noise, it was plain that she was asleep and somebody else was in the house.  Still Mabel, if awakened, would not be of much help, and remembering that the pistol was in her room, Agatha went down the passage.

The passage was very cold, a curtain swayed in an icy draught, and she found the door of her room open.  Stopping for a moment, she thought there was somebody inside.  This, however, might be a trick of her imagination, and although she wanted to steal away, she knew that if she did so she would lose her self-respect and the confidence she would need for her journey to the North.  She must brave real dangers in the wilds and live among rude men.  Besides, the pistol was on a table near the door.

Somebody moved as she went in, for there was a rustle and a board cracked, but her hand touched the pistol and she turned on the powerful electric torch.  As the beam of light swept across the room she saw that the drawer of a small writing-table had been pulled out.  Then the beam passed on and touched a man kneeling beside her open trunk.  The clothes she had not unpacked were scattered on the floor, as if the man had been looking for something, and a lantern stood near his hand.  She thought he had just put it out, since she noted a smell of oil.

Now she had found the intruder, she was less afraid than angry that he had pulled about her clothes with his coarse, dirty hands.  She knew him, for he was the teamster she had seen in the orchard.  The beam that picked him out, however, left the rest of the room in gloom, and it was hard to hold the torch steady.