back of the house and suddenly stopped short.
This was a night of adventures, indeed! On a
level with the ground, the windows of one of the back
rooms were boarded up. Through the chinks he
could distinctly see gleams of light. Standing
there, holding his breath, he could even hear the
murmur of voices. There were men there—several
of them, to judge by the sound. He drew nearer
and nearer until he found a chink through which he
could see. Then, for the first time, he hesitated.
It was not his affair, this. There were mysteries
connected with Pelham Lodge and its occupants which
were surely no concern of his. Why interfere?
Danger might come of it—danger and other
troubles. Fenella would have told him if she
had wished him to know. She herself must have
some idea as to the reason of this attempt upon her
house. Why not slip away quietly and forget it?
It was at least the most prudent course. Then,
as he hesitated, the memory of Sabatini’s words,
so recently spoken, came into his mind. Almost
he could see him leaning back in his chair with the
faint smile upon his lips. “You have not
the spirit for adventure!” Then Arnold hesitated
no longer. Choosing every footstep carefully,
he crept to the window until he could press his face
close to the chink through which the light gleamed
out into the garden.
THE END OF AN EVENING
To see into the room at all, Arnold had been compelled
to step down from the grass on to a narrow, tiled
path about half a yard wide, which led to the back
door. Standing on this and peering through the
chink in the boards, he gained at last a view of the
interior of the house. From the first, he had
entered upon this search with a certain presentiment.
He looked into the room and shivered. It was
apparently the kitchen, and was unfurnished save for
half a dozen rickety chairs, and a deal table in the
middle of the room. Upon this was stretched the
body of a motionless man. There were three others
in the room. One, who appeared to have some knowledge
of medicine, had taken off his coat and was listening
with his ear against the senseless man’s heart.
A brandy bottle stood upon the table. They had
evidently been doing what they could to restore him
to consciousness. Terrible though the sight was,
Arnold found something else in that little room to
kindle his emotion. Two of the men were unknown
to him—dark-complexioned, ordinary middle-class
people; but the third he recognized with a start.
It was Isaac who stood there, a little aloof, waiting
somberly for what his companion’s verdict might