Now, she smiled to herself as she rapidly neared the house, at Bridget’s evident fear of the supernatural.

“What a goose Bridget is,” she murmured.  “Just as though there were——­” She stopped abruptly and stared in wonder at the old house.  On the side away from the road was a small wing, and through one of the windows of this wing gleamed a tiny point of light.

“A light,” she said aloud in surprise.  “How strange.  The ghost must be at home.  Perhaps I was mistaken.  No, there it is again.  Ghost or no ghost, I’m going to see what it is.”

Suiting the action to the words, Grace stole softly up the deserted walk and crouched under the window from whence the light had come.  Clinging to the window ledge, she cautiously raised herself until her head was on a level with the glass.  What she saw caused her to hold her breath with astonishment.  Was she awake or did she dream?  At one side of the room stood a small table, and on the table, in full view of her incredulous eyes, stood the strong box which had held the bazaar money that had been spirited away on Thanksgiving night.  Bending over it, the light from his dark lantern shining full on the lock, was the man whom she had accused on the train.

Thrilled for the moment by her discovery, Grace forgot everything except what was going on inside the room.  The man was making vain efforts to hit upon the combination.  How long he had been there Grace had no idea.  She could not take her eyes from the box which contained their hard-earned money.

Minutes went by, but still she watched in a fever of apprehension for fear he might accidentally discover the combination.  Unsuccessful in his attempts, he finally straightened up with an exclamation of anger and disgust.  Going over to a small cupboard built in the wall, he opened it, and, stooping, pressed his finger against some hidden spring.  Then the wall opened and the light from the lantern disclosed an inside recess.  Lifting the box, he carried it over and deposited it in the opening, and at his touch the panel slid back into place.  Quickly locking the cupboard, he placed the key in his pocket, and, extinguishing the lantern, strode towards the door.

Once outside, he passed so close to Grace that by stretching out her hand she might easily have touched him, as she lay flat on the rain-soaked ground, scarcely daring to breathe.

The stranger paused to lock the door, and Grace heard him mutter:  “Nice night to send a pal out in, and on a still hunt, too.  Nothing short of soup’ll open up that claim.  If the rest of the jobs he’s goin’ to pull off are like this hand out, me to shake this rube joint.”

The echo of his footsteps died away and Grace ventured to raise herself from her uncomfortable position.  She peered into the blackness of the night, but could see nothing.  Rising to her feet, she stealthily circled the house and set off at her best speed for “Heartsease.”