The excitement had preceded me and speculation was rife. Hurrying
through my supper, to get away from questions and to go on with my
spying, I went out to the front of the house.
The evening was warm; the doors were open; and in the twilight the only
lamps that had been lit were in Sampson's big sitting room at the far
end of the house. Neither Sampson nor Wright had come home to supper.
I would have given much to hear their talk right then, and certainly
intended to try to hear it when they did come home.
When the buckboard drove up and they alighted I was well hidden in the
bushes, so well screened that I could get but a fleeting glimpse of
Sampson as he went in.
For all I could see, he appeared to be a calm and quiet man, intense
beneath the surface, with an air of dignity under insult. My chance to
observe Wright was lost.
They went into the house without speaking, and closed the door.
At the other end of the porch, close under a window, was an offset
between step and wall, and there in the shadow I hid. If Sampson or
Wright visited the girls that evening I wanted to hear what was said
about Steele.
It seemed to me that it might be a good clue for me--the circumstance
whether or not Diane Sampson was told the truth.
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