“What do you think of them?” Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. ’ ‘That was not what I had in mind. ” He groaned. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score.
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