. The
place was either plunged in gloom or gayety. The old gardener who kept
house by himself in the cottage at the back of the yard had things much
his own way by far the greater part of the time.

Dr. Block and his wife lived next door to the Nethertons, and he and his
wife, who were so absurd as to be very happy in each other's company,
had the benefit of the beautiful yard. They walked there mornings when
the leaves were silvered with dew, and evenings they sat beside the lily
pond and listened for the whip-poor-will. The doctor's wife moved her
room over to that side of the house which commanded a view of the yard,
and thus made the honeysuckles and laurel and clematis and all the
masses of tossing greenery her own. Sitting there day after day with
her sewing, she speculated about the mystery which hung impalpably yet
undeniably over the house.

It happened one night when she and her husband had gone to their room,
and were congratulating themselves on the fact that he had no very sick
patients and was likely to enjoy a good night's rest, that a ring came
at the door.

"If it's any one wanting you to leave home," warned his wife, "you must
tell them you are all worn out. You've been disturbed every night this
week, and it's too much!"

The young physician went downstairs. At the door stood a man whom he had
never seen before.

"My wife is lying very ill next door," said the stranger, "so ill that
I fear she will not live till morning. Will you please come to her at
once?"

"Next door?" cried the physician. "I didn't know the Nethertons were
home!"

"Please hasten," begged the man. "I must go back to her. Follow as
quickly as you can."

The doctor went back upstairs to complete his toilet.

"How absurd," protested his wife when she heard the story. "There is no
one at the Nethertons'. I sit where I can see the front door, and no one
can enter without my knowing it, and I have been sewing by the window
all day. If there were any one in the house, the gardener would have the
porch lantern lighted. It is some plot. Some one has designs on you. You
must not go."

But he went. As he left the room his wife placed a revolver in his
pocket.

The great porch of the mansion was dark, but the physician made out that
the door was open, and he entered. A feeble light came from the bronze
lamp at the turn of the stairs, and by it he found his way, his feet
sinking noiselessly in the rich carpets. At the head of th