Molly’s knees began to shake. What could this mean? What was the old woman with the horrible eyes doing here in Miss Lydia’s garden? Was it a trap? She looked over at Miss Lydia who was sitting patiently where Molly had placed her. Molly moved softly toward the window, and stood, hidden by the window curtain, looking out. In a few seconds she saw the old woman’s hand come round the side of the bush and make a signal toward the hedge by the fence. The hedge stirred a bit. So there was some one else hiding there, thought Molly. She turned to Miss Lydia. The sight of the blind woman’s gentle face reassured her. No, if this was a trap, Miss Lydia had nothing to do with it; Molly felt sure of that. Anyway, she decided that it was better to tell Miss Lydia what she had just seen in the garden. Miss Lydia was terribly agitated at first, and cried, and seemed so upset that she made Molly want to cry too. “But we must be brave, Miss Lydia,” said Molly. “Trust me, and do what I tell you, will you?” she urged. “We must help each other all we can. I will help you with my eyes, and you must help me with your ears—listen and tell me what you hear. And you can help me by telling me where to find things and all that.” Miss Lydia calmed down gradually, and promised to aid Molly as much as possible. Molly’s first act was to ascertain that all the windows were locked and the front and back doors bolted. While seeing to these things she discovered that there were two other spies lurking in the back garden. One looked something like the figure of the old watchmaker, only he was dressed differently. The other man she had not seen before. They were both badly concealed among some tall plants and ferns. “Why are all the spies gathering here together?” Molly asked herself. “Do they know I’ve seen them, I wonder. They don’t mean to let me get out of this house. They seem to be watching all round it.” “What can you see? What can you see?” asked Miss Lydia, pleadingly. Molly told her. “I don’t think they can hurt us—so long as we keep indoors. They’re only guarding the house to see that I don’t get away, until——” Molly broke off; “until the Pumpkin comes,” was what she had been going to say, but there was no need to set Miss Lydia trembling afresh. Molly herself was in such a state of excitement, darting noiselessly from one window to another, comforting Miss Lydia, and telling her what she could see, that there was hardly time to be very frightened. Miss Lydia divided her attention between the front door and the back, listening anxiously at each in turn. Presently she remembered something, and called quietly to Molly: “There is a little room at the very top of the house, in the roof, a room I use as a studio,” she said. “If you go up you will have a better view of the garden, and will be able to see far outside the garden, over the hedges as well.” “I will go at once and see what I can make out,” said Molly. “But I saw no stairs leading up any higher.”