Her hands were shaking with excitement, but she could not have been wider awake as she scrambled into her old dressing-gown. Her bedroom door had the sort of latch that clicked when you pressed it, and it seemed as if minutes instead of seconds passed before she was able to raise it soundlessly. She crept down the stairs with one hand on the rail. The house was so quiet that she could hear her father snoring his gentle snore in the other room, but there was no sound from the sitting-room. The stairs led directly into this room, but were screened at the foot by a curtain. The curtain was closed now and when she reached it, she hardly dared to move it for fear of what she might see. For a moment she listened intently, but there was not even the sound of breathing. She moved the curtain an inch, and then another, hoping that the rings would not clink on the rod. Then she peeped in. The black-out was still up, and the only light came from the stairs behind her, so she moved the curtain another few inches. There was enough light now to show that there was nobody in the room. Two blankets had been flung untidily on the floor, and the heavy knapsack had disappeared, but for a moment Peter wondered whether Mr. Evans was in the scullery washing. Then quickly she ran across to the door and felt for the bolts. They had been drawn back and the door was unlocked, so it seemed as if their guest had left early. She flung back the door and noticed the grim look on the faces of the three men outside.

"He's gone," she said. "The door was unlocked. His knapsack has gone too... unless he's in the scullery."

"Show me the scullery," said one of them quickly.

Peter pointed to the door and two of them stepped inside and went into the inner room where Mr. Sterling did so much of his work.

"No luck," said one, as he came out. "The bird's flown, I'm thinking. Better tell us all about it, Peter, and ask your father to come too. Sorry to be such a nuisance but it's important."

"He's just coming," she said, when she got back. "But tell me why you want to know about Mr. Evans? He was awfully nice. I liked him. And he helped us search for the twins on the mountain."

"But you don't know the news, do you? The twins are safe and sound and in their beds at Witchend. Alf Ingles and those two lads - their brother and young Tom - brought 'em back from Appledore," said one of the men.

"Father! Father!" Peter shouted up the stairs. "The twins are safe. David found them. I knew he would."