keeping pretty constantly on the move so that no marauder might steal
in upon us unawares, or from an unexpected quarter.

If the place was bleak and dreary in the daytime, what words will
describe its dispiriting influence at night? There is a silence that
is soothing and restful, which imbues one with a sense of comfort and a
pleasant desire for sleep. Then there is another sort of silence; one
that magnifies every trifling sound, sounds that could not even be
detected during the day; the sort of silence that hints at uneasy
stirrings and movements all about one. The distant cockcrow rings
clear and high, floors creak, the very timbers of the house complain,
and mice scurry in the walls.

It was such a stillness that enveloped us. Even Stodger's
irrepressible good-humor failed to cheer. The old mansion was
possessed of a thousand voices, strange, indefinable noises that kept
our attention constantly divided; yet the night was so still that I
could hear our watches ticking in our pockets.

The result was that the cipher received only scant attention from me.
I would get only fairly absorbed in my task when Stodger would startle
me with a sudden "Ssh!" or a no less startling command to "Listen!"
Whereupon we would both sit straining our ears to hear--nothing.

Every few minutes one or the other of us, or both together, would go
over the entire house, examining doors and windows and making sure that
no one had entered since the last tour of inspection.

This was repeated so many times that Stodger himself grew glum, and at
last signified a determination to turn in. He made himself comfortable
on the big library divan,--the same divan which had held Belle
Fluette's motionless form only a few hours previous,--wrapped himself
in a heavy blanket from Felix Page's bed, and was soon fast asleep; or,
at least, he offered audible evidence that he was.

Again I tried to fasten my attention upon the cryptic parchment; but it
was of no use. In spite of myself, my head would jerk up to a
listening attitude every time a board creaked or I fancied I heard a
door somewhere in the house being cautiously opened. Time after time I
would be sent stealthily to some remote corridor or chamber, only to
return again to the library no wiser than before.

I finally thrust the cipher back into my pocketbook and resigned myself
to a lonely vigil. The great library was a place of shadows and dark
recesses, as well as of silence; a