probability possessed no knowledge of my entrance. Perhaps he had already completed his search and departed; if not, then he must be somewhere on the second floor, for if below he would have certainly perceived my light or been alarmed by the sound of my movements.
My heart beat fast, but from excitement, not fear. With cocked revolver in one hand, the lamp in the other, I silently opened door after door, peering into vacant apartments, half thinking every shadow to be a skulking figure. The search revealed nothing; not even further evidence of any presence in the house. The kitchen fire was cold, the cooking utensils clean, and in their proper places. The back door was bolted from within, the windows securely closed. I listened for any sound, but the house was as silent as a tomb; I could hear the patter of rain, the scraping of a limb against the outer wall, but not the faintest movement within. Satisfied already that the mysterious invader had departed, yet sternly determined now to explore the whole house, and have done with the business, I mounted the back stairway, a strip of rag carpet rendering my steps silent, and, with head above the landing, flashed my light cautiously along the upper hall. There were doors on either side, the most of them open, but the third to the left was closed. There was no transom over it, but the door
