d just
passed, for the very fact that he had thought of it often. The man had
come into the dim radiance of the far light, then had melted into the
blackness of the night again, leaving as a sign of his presence the
creak of his shoes and the aroma of a cigarette.

Fitzgerald tramped on cheerfully. It was not an unpleasant climb, only
dark. The millionaire's home seemed to grow up out of a fine park.
There was a great iron fence inclosing the grounds, and the lights on
top of the gates set the dull red trunks of the pines a-glowing. There
were no lights shining in the windows of the pretty lodge. Still, the
pedestrians' gate was ajar. He passed in, fully expecting to be
greeted by the growl of a dog. Instead, he heard mysterious footsteps
on the gravel. He listened. Some one was running.

"Hello, there!" he called.

No answer. The sound ceased. The runner had evidently taken to the
silent going of the turf. Fitzgerald came to a stand. Should he go on
or return to the hotel? Whoever was running had no right here.
Fitzgerald rarely carried arms, at least in civilized countries; a
stout cane was the best weapon for general purposes. He swung this
lightly.

"I am going on. I should like to see the library."

He was not overfond of unknown dangers in the night; but he possessed a
keen ear and a sharp pair of eyes, being a good hunter. A poacher,
possibly. At any rate, he determined to go forward and ring the bell.

Both the park and the house were old. Some of those well-trimmed pines
had scored easily a hundred and fifty years, and the oak, standing
before the house and dividing the view into halves, was older still.
No iron deer or marble lion marred the lawn which he was now
traversing; a sign of good taste. Gardeners had been at work here, men
who knew their business thoroughly. He breathed the odor of trampled
pine needles mingled with the harsher essence of the sea. It was tonic.

In summer the place would be beautiful. The house itself was built on
severe and simple lines. It was quite apparent that in no time of its
history had it been left to run down. The hall and lower left wing
were lighted, but the inner blinds and curtains were drawn. He did not
waste any time. It was exactly eight o'clock when he stepped up to the
door and pulled the ancient wire bell. At once he saw signs of life.
The broad door opened, and an English butler, having scrutinized his
face, silently motioned h