“You wouldn’t get him, he’d get you.  You wouldn’t have a chance on earth.  If there is a window upstairs over that one, you might drop something out on him, or borrow Parks’s pistol and shoot him—­”

“That would be pretty cowardly, wouldn’t it?” I suggested, mildly.

“My dear Lester,” Godfrey protested, “when you attack a poisonous snake, you don’t do it with bare hands, do you?”

I couldn’t help it—­I glanced again at the window....

“He’s gone!” I cried.

Godfrey was at the window in two steps.

“Look at that!” he said, “and then tell me he isn’t a genius!”

I followed the direction of his pointing finger and saw that, just opposite the opening in the shutter, a little hole had been cut in the window-pane.

“That fellow foresees everything,” said Godfrey, with enthusiasm.  “He probably cut that hole as soon as it was dark.  He must have guessed we were going to examine the cabinet to-night—­and he wanted not only to see, but to hear.  He heard everything we said, Lester!”

“Let’s go after him!” I cried, and, without waiting for an answer, I sprang across the ante-room and snatched open the door which led into the hall.

Parks and Rogers were sitting on the couch just outside and I never saw two men more thoroughly frightened.

“For God’s sake, Mr. Lester!” gasped Rogers, and stopped, his hand at his throat.

“Is it Mr. Godfrey?” cried Parks.

“There’s a man outside.  Got your pistol, Parks?”

“Yes, sir,” and he took it from his pocket.

I snatched it from him, opened the front door, leaped the railing, and stole along the house to the corner.

Then, taking my courage in both hands, I charged around it.

There was no one in sight; but from somewhere near at hand came a burst of mocking laughter.

CHAPTER XII

GODFREY IS FRIGHTENED

I was still staring about me, that mocking laughter in my ears, when Godfrey joined me.

“He got away, of course,” he said coolly.

“Yes, and I heard him laugh!” I cried.

Godfrey looked at me quickly.

“Come, Lester,” he said, soothingly, “don’t let your nerves run away with you.”

“It wasn’t my nerves,” I protested, a little hotly.  “I heard it quite plainly.  He can’t be far away.”

“Too far for us to catch him,” Godfrey retorted, and, torch in hand, proceeded to examine the window-sill and the ground beneath it.  “There is where he stood,” he added, and the marks on the sill were evident enough.  “Of course he had his line of retreat blocked out,” and he flashed his torch back and forth across the grass, but the turf was so close that no trace of footsteps was visible.

We went slowly back to the house, and Godfrey sat down again to a contemplation of the cabinet.