The Strange Case of Baby H by Kathryn Reiss Read Free Book Online Page B

were and hoped they were safe. She saw in her mind the dirty, haggard face of the young woman in the red dress, and she turned over and placed one hand protectively on the bundle of baby sleeping at her side. Finally, Clara slept too.
    She dived off the rocks like a sleek gray seal, rippling through deep water toward the dark figure struggling beneath the surface—
    Humphrey’s low growl in her ear made her jump awake. “Wh-what is it, boy?” she whispered into the darkness. Had it been minutes or hours since she drifted off? Was there going to be another earthquake each time she had one of the swimming dreams? She looked around. In the dim room she could just make out the shapes of her sleeping parents and Baby H. She patted the floor next to her. “Lie down, Humph. Good boy.” She closed her eyes again, throwing her arm across Humphrey’s broad back. The dog growled again, low in his throat.
    Then it was only a second before she and the dog were both on their feet, listening at the closed door of the bedroom. There was something—some strange noise.
    â€œShh,” Clara shushed Humphrey. “Listen—”
    Was one of the lodgers walking about in the parlor? But no one was sleeping in there. Clara gripped Humphrey’s collar. Her parents slumbered on. Should she wake them? But Mother would panic and Father would be helpless and angry. Maybe she could alert Mr. Midgard and Mr. Stokes—but no! They weren’t home … It was up to her to see what was wrong.
    Clara started to tiptoe out the door with Humphrey right beside her, her fingers tight around his collar, but then she stopped, looking back into the bedroom. Her eyes fastened on the fireplace poker by the hearth.
    Better than nothing .
    A scraping noise. A thump. Definitely coming from the parlor.
    Heart thudding, Clara gripped the iron poker and headed down the hallway, Humphrey at her side. She waited in the hallway just inches from the open parlor door. Two more steps and she would be able to peek inside.
    Craning her neck, she looked into the room. In the moonlight she could see the bookshelves, the potted aspidistra, the high-backed settee. But no one was there. She relaxed for a moment and loosened her hold on the dog’s collar. Then her gaze swept toward the broken window, and she sucked in her breath.
    There was an arm stretching itself in through a broken windowpane—an arm in a black sleeve groping for the window catch.
    Clara froze. It must be a looter! she thought, and then raced forward into the room and slammed her iron poker down onto the arm. An agonized howl from the figure outside, Humphrey’s frenzied barking, and Clara’s shouts for help merged into a terrible ruckus that brought Mother and the lodgers racing into the parlor.
    â€œMother! Help!” shouted Clara. “Don’t let him get away!”
    â€œStay back, Clara!” Mother spun Clara away from the window—but Clara saw that the man was already out in the street, clutching his arm and running fast. Then a second figure emerged from around the side of the house and scrambled after him, long skirt flapping.
    â€œTwo of them!” Clara exclaimed.
    â€œIs anyone hurt?” Miss DuBois and Miss Chandler crept nervously into the room. Mrs. Grissinger and Mrs. Hansen followed. Mr. Granger and the Wheeler sisters peered into the room from the doorway.
    â€œThere was somebody outside—” began Clara, but Mother cut her off.
    â€œLooters now on top of everything else—and you chasing them!” Her voice broke. “Oh, Clara, I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.”
    â€œGoodness, I do wish the menfolk were here,” said Miss DuBois, putting an arm around Mother’s shoulders.
    â€œI’m here,” protested Mr. Granger in his quavery voice.
    â€œAnd I’m here.” Father rolled into the room in his wheelchair. He took in the sight of Clara standing with