nd had it not been for the regular,
stertorous breathing of the sleeper, I might have wished myself well
out of it.

The hours dragged along--midnight, one o'clock, two, half-past, and
still I did not rouse Stodger; I never had less desire to sleep.
During one of my excursions through the empty, echoing rooms I set down
my lantern--we had provided ourselves with this convenience--and looked
out into the night. The pleasant weather of the past few days had
ended; it was dark--very dark--and an occasional flake of snow,
materializing ghostlike within the square of light from the lantern,
scraped along the small diamond panes with a feathery touch.

Presently I entered Felix Page's bedroom. And here, for the first time
that night, I was sensible of an absolute stillness. Not even a board
creaked. Not a breath stirred the leafless boughs outside, nor rattled
the withered vines on the walls. Then of a sudden I grew rigid,
tensely alert, and watchful. From somewhere a breath of icy outdoor
air struck upon my face and hands.

Now whatever else might be said of this old house, it was not a place
of drafts. Its walls were thick and solid, its doors massive, and the
doors and windows were snug-fitting; therefore, the fact that I now
felt a perceptible rush of air could signify but one thing--that an
outside door or window had been opened.

During a brief pause I hesitated over whether I should rouse Stodger;
but so slight a warrant decided me not to. A shout from any part of
the house, should he be needed, would accomplish the purpose quite as
well.

So I merely stood motionless and listened. The circumstance that my
straining ears could now hear nothing whatever was in itself ominous.
The hush which had fallen upon the place was the sort that heralds an
advance through a forest of the most cautious of hunters. Danger might
be creeping upon me from every side and in any imaginable guise; if so,
here was my warning.

Then it was that I smiled and reached a decision. With infinite
caution I sank to the floor, removed my shoes, and draped a rug over
the lantern. Only the dimmest points of light showed through the weave
of the fabric; merely enough to serve as a guiding beacon in case I
wanted to find it in a hurry. Next, with my revolver in hand, I stole
to the hall door, which had been left ajar purposely, and peered out.

The darkness was fathomless, the silence complete. The spacious lower
hall was the Dion