bed, a certain uneasiness preventing me from undressing entirely.  I was tired, but with little inclination for sleep.  The room was large, the furniture of old style and well worn, the light of the small hand lamp leaving much of the spacious apartment in shadow.  It was not only imagination which kept me wakeful, but the dim suspicion engendered in my mind by what Mrs. Bernard had said below.  Could there be any truth in her questioning of the motives actuating the man who had sent us here?  Had we come—­mere pawns in some game of crime—­deceived, perhaps betrayed to arrest?  Was Coombs here merely to watch us, and report to Neale and Vail how we carried out our part of the bargain?  The affair certainly looked altogether different now I was upon the ground, although I could figure out no possible object those men could have.  At least they could accomplish nothing without my cooperation, and, if I discovered any evil afoot, I could block them instantly.  I was there to save this property for the rightful heir, and was determined now to see that Philip Henley received all that was due him.  It was after one o’clock before I fell into a drowsy sleep.

Indeed, it hardly seemed to me that I had entirely lost consciousness, when I was jerked bolt upright by the sharp report of a firearm.  For a single instant I imagined the shot fired within my room; then I sprang to the door, and flung it open, peering out into the hall.  Everything was still, the rays from my lamp barely extending to the head of the stairs.  I could neither see, nor hear anything, and yet I had a strange premonition that I was not alone.  There was an automatic revolver in the pocket of my coat, and I stepped back after it, picking up the lamp on my return, determined on a thorough examination of the upper story.  There was no doubt about the shot—­the sound was no effect of a dream.  I wondered if the girl had been awakened by the report, and paused to listen at her door, but no sound reached me from within.  The thought that she might have discharged the weapon occurred to my mind, but was as instantly dismissed, as I was convinced she possessed nothing of the kind.

I moved down the hall cautiously, regretting the need of a lamp, but the place was strange, and I dare not venture about in the dark.  Old as the house was, there was no creaking of boards underfoot, and, strain my ears as I would, not the slightest sound reached me.

The first doors I came to were ajar, but the moon was at the back of the house, and I was obliged to enter each apartment, and flash my light into the corners to make sure they were vacant.  These were medium-sized bedrooms, comfortably furnished, although containing nothing new.  Only one exhibited any evidence of late occupancy, being in considerable disorder, the bed unmade, some discarded garments strewn about the floor.  I prowled about within this room for some time, even invading the closet, but discovered nothing more suspicious than a loaded revolver in a bureau drawer, together with some torn letters, and an old newspaper.  This was a local sheet, containing a notice of the death of Judge Henley, which I took time to read.  The letters were in such scraps I could not even decipher the address.