tened. The house
before which he stood was smaller than Pelham Lodge, and woefully
out of repair. The grass on the lawn was long and dank--even the
board containing the notice "To Let" had fallen flat, and lay among
it as in a jungle. The paths were choked with weeds, the windows
were black and curtainless. He made his way to the 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.

CHAPTER XVII

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