He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. “Let me know the truth. She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. You wouldn't rob Mr. But ——” A look checked him. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. The plank hung over his head. " "Where are you going?" asked his mother.
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