In the Limberlost the hulking figure of a man sneaked down the trail.

“The Bird Woman was at Freckles’s room this evening,” he muttered.  “Wonder what for?”

He left the trail, entered the enclosure still distinctly outlined, and approached the case.  The first point of light flashed from the tiny electric lamp on his vest.  He took a duplicate key from his pocket, felt for the padlock and opened it.  The door swung wide.  The light flashed the second time.  Swiftly his glance swept the interior.

“’Bout a fourth of her moths gone.  Elnora must have been with the Bird Woman and given them to her.”  Then he stood tense.  His keen eyes discovered the roll of bills hastily thrust back in the bottom of the case.  He snatched them up, shut off the light, relocked the case by touch, and swiftly went down the trail.  Every few seconds he paused and listened intently.  Just as he reached the road, a second figure approached him.

“Is it you, Pete?” came the whispered question.

“Yes,” said the first man.

“I was coming down to take a peep, when I saw your flash,” he said.  “I heard the Bird Woman had been at the case to-day.  Anything doing?”

“Not a thing,” said Pete.  “She just took away about a fourth of the moths.  Probably had the Comstock girl getting them for her.  Heard they were together.  Likely she’ll get the rest to-morrow.  Ain’t picking gettin’ bare these days?”

“Well, I should say so,” said the second man, turning back in disgust.  “Coming home, now?”

“No, I am going down this way,” answered Pete, for his eyes caught the gleam from the window of the Comstock cabin, and he had a desire to learn why Elnora’s attic was lighted at that hour.

He slouched down the road, occasionally feeling the size of the roll he had not taken time to count.

The attic was too long, the light too near the other end, and the cabin stood much too far back from the road.  He could see nothing although he climbed the fence and walked back opposite the window.  He knew Mrs. Comstock was probably awake, and that she sometimes went to the swamp behind her home at night.  At times a cry went up from that locality that paralyzed any one near, or sent them fleeing as if for life.  He did not care to cross behind the cabin.  He returned to the road, passed, and again climbed the fence.  Opposite the west window he could see Elnora.  She sat before a small table reading from a book between two candles.  Her hair fell in a bright sheen around her, and with one hand she lightly shook, and tossed it as she studied.  The man stood out in the night and watched.

For a long time a leaf turned at intervals and the hair-drying went on.  The man drew nearer.  The picture grew more beautiful as he approached.  He could not see so well as he desired, for the screen was of white mosquito netting, and it angered him.  He cautiously crept closer.  The elevation shut off his view.  Then he remembered the large willow tree shading the well and branching across the window fit the west end of the cabin.  From childhood Elnora had stepped from the sill to a limb and slid down the slanting trunk of the tree.  He reached it and noiselessly swung himself up.  Three steps out on the big limb the man shuddered.  He was within a few feet of the girl.