The Washington herald., 1913-12-28
By ARTHUR STRINGER.

of hesitancy. ] was already too deep
In the woods to think of turning back
My one mission now was to complete the
circuit and emerge on the other side.
l began to wonder. as felt for the stair
banister and CROPPED my cautious way
down the treads, just how the burglar
himself had effected that final exit from
the house. And the sooner l got away
from the sleeping quarters. 1 felt, the
safer l would be. The utter darkness
and silence OF the lower halls were be-
ginning to get on my nerves. 1 was glad
to feel the newell post, which assured me
that I had reached the last step in my
descent. l was relieved to be able to
turn carefully and silently about to the
left, to grope toward a door which 1
knew stood before me In the gloom, and
then cautiously to turn the knob and
step inside.
knew at once, even before took the
f1ashlight from my pocket. that l was in
the library. And the room that opened
OF this, l remembered. half cabinet-lined
study and half informal exhibition room,
was the chamber wherein Anthony Cub
till treasured his curios. 1t would take
but minute or two, knew. to replace
his priceless little porcelain. And anoth-
er minute or two, l felt, ought to see me
safely out and on my way home.
l stood with my back to the door. de-
termined that no untimely blunder
should mar the end of my adventure. My
first precaution was to thrust out my
fiashlight and make sure of my path. l
let the incandescent ray linger interro-
gatively about the massively furnished
room, resting for a moment on marble
and metal and glass-fronted bookshelf.
I let the wavering light travel toward
the end of the glimmering and LAKEWOOD
reading table. l stood there, picking out
remembered object after object, remark
ing them with singular detachment of
mind as my light continued to circle the
end of the room.
Then 1 quietly made my way to the
open door in the rear, and bisecting that
second room with my spear Of light, sat-
isfied myself that the space between the
roses Yang Lao with the ivory base was
indeed empty.
Then, of a sudden, stopped breathing.
Automatically I let my thumb lift from
the current spring Of my storage lamp.
The light at once went out. l stood
there, with every nerve OF my body on
edge. ] crouched forward, tingling and
peering into the darkness before me. For
had suddenly discovered that 1 was
not alone in the room.
There, facing me, picked out as dis
tinctly as q baby spotlight picks out an
actors face, had seen the owner Of the
house himself, not ten PAGES from me.
He was sitting in a high-backed armchair
of green leather. He must have been
watching me from the first, every mo-
ment and every movement. He had made
no effort to interrupt or intercept me. He
had been too sure Of his position.
waited for what seemed an intermin-
able length of time. But not a sound. be-
yond the Querulous tick of the clock,
came to my ears.
The underlined menace of this silence
was too much for me. moved away. in
voluntarily, wondering what / should
say, and after what fashion l should be-
gin my foolish explanation. fell slowly
back, paving frenziedly about me for
some sustaining tangibility to which to
cling. AS I did so my body came in con-
tact with some article of furniture-just
what, 1 could not tell. But I SHE'D away
from it in a panic, as a colt shies at a
fallen newspaper. .r -
My second movement threw over a
second piece OF furniture. II must have
been some sort of collapsible screen, for
It fell to the floor with an echoing crash.
1 waited, holding my breath, with horri-
pilations of fear netting every limb of
my body. knowing only too well that this
must indeed mark the end.
But there was no movement, no spoken
word, no slightest sound. I stared through