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it!”
    I wanted to shout with relief for the voice was that of the tramper. So it was no dream that I was trapped in! I watched as he clambered through the window and came and stood over me: “Not a word to nobody that you knowed me or I’ll come back and cut your throat. I promise. And your precious mam’s too.”
    At that moment we both heard footsteps in the passage. With an oath the man went back to the window and swiftly climbed out. A moment later my mother was in the room, holding a candle and gazing at me in dismay. It all happened so quickly that I almost wondered if the stranger had been in my chamber at all.
    “What is it,” she asked. “What’s the matter, Johnnie?”
    I was about to speak when suddenly a face came round the edge of the door: gaunt, the features glaring, the hair rising strangely in silhouette. I screamed and my mother looked behind her in alarm.
    Bissett came in. I had never before seen her in her night-gown and with her hair in a net.
    “There was a man!” I cried.
    “What do you mean?” my mother asked in alarm.
    “He was here. I saw him at the w-window,” I managed to sob.
    “Oh Johnnie, that was a nightmare.”
    “I told you what it would lead to, ma’am,” said Bissett.
    “N-no,” I persisted. “He was really there.”
    “How could he be there?” said my mother mildly. “No-one could get up to the window without a ladder.”
    As she said this she faltered and I saw Bissett glance at her. While my mother stayed by my bed with the candle, my nurse quickly went across to the window and looked out.
    Without turning round she said gravely: “Aye, there’s that ladder up against the wall here sure enough.”
    My mother gave a cry and I noticed that one hand reached to grasp the slender box that hung from the key-chain that she must have snatched up when she left her bed. I wriggled aside to watch as Bissett clambered onto the window-seat and peered out. As she did so there was a loud crash which seemed to come from directly underneath us.
    “They’re coming at last!” my mother exclaimed in terror.
    She clung to me so tightly that she hurt me. As that moment there was a second blow louder than the first and accompanied by the sound of splintering wood.
    Bissett came back from the window and stood over us, a tall gaunt figure m her long night-gown. Her voice was oddly calm as she reported: “They’ve broke into the parlour, ma’am. I jist seen one of ’em getting through from the airey as I put my head out.”
    “Mercy!” cried my mother. “They’ve come to murder us.”
    “Fiddlesticks!” Bissett snapped.

    22 THE

    HUFFAMS

    Still clinging to me, my mother began to weep, and to my amazement Bissett seized her by the shoulders and shook her fiercely: “Be silent,” she demanded. “We’re in no danger. Not less’n you cry out and draw their notice to us.”
    “You don’t understand,” moaned my mother. “They’ve come to kill us, me and Johnnie.”
    “They’re only thieves, ma’am. They seen the ladder and thought to break in easy.”
    “No, no! You’re wrong,” my mother cried. “You don’t understand. Go to the window and call for help.”
    “No, indeed,” said Bissett. “That would be dangerous.”
    “You must believe me,” exclaimed my mother. “They’ll have firearms and they’ll be on the way up here now.”
    Bissett crossed to the door, closed it, and then leant with her back against it.
    “Well, they won’t be able to get in if they try. But most like they’re more frighted nor us and only want to get out.”
    “Then let me go and look,” I said, trying to pull myself free from my mother’s grip.
    “No, Johnnie,” exclaimed my mother anxiously, pressing me back into the bed.
    “Bide there,” said Bissett. “We’ll give ’em time to be gone. ’Tis safest that way.”
    We waited for what seemed an age, staring at each other in silence as we strained our ears for the slightest sound. With her arms still about me, I