d with great caution toward the doorway. As he reached it he
saw, or perhaps felt, that there was a bulk directly before him, much
denser than the darkness; and as he studied this it occurred to him that
it was about the size of a man. But he was not at all sure; so he stood
very still, all his thews flexed, and waited for it to move. In a few
moments there came a slow stirring; the bulk seemed to push forward.
This was all Scanlon required; he lashed out with his right fist; it
crashed into a living something with frightful force; there was a low
outcry and a fall; and then Bat stepped out into the night and was away.

A score of paces from the rose arbor he stopped. He had not the least
idea as to the direction Nora had taken, and so was puzzled about the
next thing to do. But after the fright she had gotten he felt sure that
she'd not linger about the little patch of ground surrounding No. 620
Duncan Street.

"She's away to the station," he said. "And that's my play."

So in a few moments he was on the street and hurrying toward the
station. When within two score yards of it he heard a bell clang and
caught the hiss of released steam. Then a train pulled out and rolled
away down the dark line of track. The station lights were out, the
platform was deserted and the waiting room, when he tried the door, was
locked.

"Like as not she caught that train," mused Bat as he stood upon the
platform. "And if so, all right."

He looked at a train schedule with the aid of a match, and then at his
watch.

"Ten forty-eight," said he. "That's an hour yet. Some wait."

And a dismal, unproductive hour, too. The deserted platform, the chill
winds and the drizzle of rain, made it most uncomfortable.

"I ought to be doing something," said he. "I ought to be----"

Of course! He ought to be at the Burton house; he ought to be trying to
learn what was behind the marvel of the invalid girl who so suddenly
became well; he ought to be eager and anxious to discover the objective
of her cautious movements! At once, without any hesitancy, he hurried
back along the way he had just come. Lights still burned brightly in
comfortable little houses, set back from the street; they glowed with
cheer and family life; but on the way he did not encounter a single
pedestrian.

"Stanwick is strictly an indoor place on a rainy Sunday night," he
mused, as he hurried along. "And I don't know that it hasn't the best of
it."

He was inside the iron