* * * * * “How did you know there was one, then?” * * * * * “No, I didn’t. No such thing.” * * * * * “Well, if he said I called him up, he’s probably a gang of thieves. I’ll get the police. What did he look like?” * * * * * “With a small boy, eh? I _knew_ I smelled small boy. I’ll bet he’s one of these Giant-killer smarties. I’ll soon fix him.” He rose, shaking the house with his heavy tread. Wendell was a brave boy, but who wouldn’t quail before an angry giant? Wendell quailed. He looked around for a place to hide. The bathroom occupied a little ell with eaves, and under the eaves ran a wainscoting, broken by a little door that was evidently the entrance to a low closet. Wendell opened it and crawled in, not quite closing the door, as it had no handle on the inside. He crouched behind a trunk, pulled down some old clothes from a nail to cover him, and kept very still, all but his heart, which thumped loudly. “They’re not here,” he heard the Stepmother say. “It looks as if they were coming back, though.” “They _are_ here,” roared the Giant. “The small boy’s here. I can smell him. He’s in that closet.” He flung open the door. “Bring a light,” he commanded. CHAPTER XI THE CLOAK OF DARKNESS The Stepmother went out and came back with a flashlight. “Here,” she said. The Giant flashed it into the closet, yanked out the trunk, flashed the light in again, straight into Wendell’s face, as he crouched there half-covered by old clothes. “He isn’t here,” said the Giant. “No,” said his wife. “He’s _been_ in here, though,” declared the Giant, sniffing. “Strong smell of him.” “Probably the man had him crawl in there to see if there was any leak in the connection,” suggested the Stepmother. “I hope he’ll come back and finish up soon. This place is a mess.” What did it mean? They were looking straight at him. The light was shining full on him. Yet they didn’t see him, not any more than if he were invisible. _Invisible!_ Why, of course! The invisible cloak--the Cloak of Darkness that he had come to find! It must be this musty old garment that he had pulled down to conceal him in his fright. Sure enough! And now came the terrifying thought,--in another moment the door might be closed upon him, and he shut fast in a prison from which there would be no easier escape than if it were a veritable Giant’s dungeon in a fairy book. He must get out at once. He drew the musty folds securely about him, crawled forward, dodged under the Giant’s very arm, squeezed close to the wall to pass the Stepmother, made himself small, not to crowd the Ugly Stepsister, all agog in the doorway, slid down the banisters, sneaked through the kitchen, out the back door, and away. He was free!