Tilling the chauffeur to stand by
Scarlet Runner, unless called, Christopher
began to climb a slight incline, the wind
and rain in his face, as his feet squashed
through the soaked, rocky grass. Mounting to the top, he came into full sight of
the house, above the shrubbery and some
low-growing trees. At the extreme western
end was a row of three lighted, damp
patched windows on the ground floor. The
room within was hidden by semi-transparent
green curtains. All the other windows in
that wing were black as this one had been
a moment ago; for the bedrooms of the old
fashioned house doubtless depended upon
candles for light, and remained in darkness
when their occupants were absent.
This light, which cast its white beam up
and down, shining out through, thin white
curtains, was neither the light of a candle
nor a lamp. It was a strange, while-the
wisp of a light, and seemed to confirm those
topher Race's brain. Ah Christopher noise
lessly approached the lighted panes he suddenly saw, as in a vision, what was passing
on the other side.
A man, with a small, wiry figure, and a
half-mask of crape or some black material
hiding the upper part of his face, was tipping.
catlike, about the room, guiding his
movements by means of a dark lantern. He
had evidently just satisfied himself that
there were things worth having in the room,
despite the risk of the thin curtains.  and. 