mself a sandwich. "You see, I live the simple life out here. I've
got an old couple to look after the place--Mr. and Mrs. Hargis. Mrs.
Hargis is an excellent cook--but to ask her to stay awake till
midnight would be fiendish cruelty. So she leaves me a lunch in the
ice-box, and goes quietly off to bed. I'll give you some berries for
breakfast such as you don't often get in New York--and the cream--wait
till you try it! Have a cigar?"

"No," I said, sitting down very content with the world, "I've got my
pipe," and I proceeded to fill up.

Godfrey took down his own pipe from the mantelshelf and sat down
opposite me. A moment later, two puffs of smoke circled toward the
ceiling.

"Now," I said, looking at him, "go ahead and tell me about it."

Godfrey watched a smoke-ring whirl and break before he answered.

"About ten days ago," he began, "just at midnight, I happened to
glance out of my bedroom window, as I was turning in, and caught a
glimpse of a queer light apparently sinking into the tree-tops. I
thought nothing of it; but two nights later, at exactly the same time,
I saw it again. I watched for it the next night, and again saw
it--just for an instant, you understand, as it formed high in the air
and started downward. The next night I was up a tree and saw more of
it; but it was not until night before last that I found the place from
which the whole spectacle could be seen. The trees are pretty thick
all around here, and I doubt if there is any other place from which
those two figures would be visible."

"Then there _were_ two figures!" I said, for I had begun to think that
my eyes had deceived me.

"There certainly were."

"Standing in space?"

"Oh, no; standing on a very substantial roof."

"But what is it all about?" I questioned. "Why should that light
descend every midnight? What _is_ the light, anyway?"

"That's what I've brought you out here to find out. You've got four
clear days ahead of you--and I'll be at your disposal from midnight
on, if you happen to need me."

"But you must have some sort of idea about it," I persisted. "At least
you know whose roof those figures were standing on."

"Yes, I know that. The roof belongs to a man named Worthington
Vaughan. Ever hear of him?"

I shook my head.

"Neither had I," said Godfrey, "up to the time I took this place. Even
yet, I don't know very much. He's the last of an old family, who made
their money in real estate, and are supposed to have k