olated position.

Another mile saw us, if possible, more despondent. The water in our
clothes had had time to penetrate: the roan had sprained his shoulder,
and drew us along in a series of convulsive jerks. And then through
the rain-spattered window of the blanket, I saw a light. It was a small
light, rather yellow, and it lasted perhaps thirty seconds. Hotchkiss
missed it, and was inclined to doubt me. But in a couple of minutes the
roan hobbled to the side of the road and stopped, and I made out a break
in the pines and an arched gate.

It was a small gate, too narrow for the buggy. I pulled the horse into
as much shelter as possible under the trees, and we got out. Hotchkiss
tied the beast and we left him there, head down against the driving
rain, drooping and dejected. Then we went toward the house.

It was a long walk. The path bent and twisted, and now and then we
lost it. We were climbing as we went. Oddly there were no lights ahead,
although it was only ten o'clock,--not later. Hotchkiss kept a little
ahead of me, knocking into trees now and then, but finding the path in
half the time I should have taken. Once, as I felt my way around a tree
in the blackness, I put my hand unexpectedly on his shoulder, and felt a
shudder go down my back.

"What do you expect me to do?" he protested, when I remonstrated. "Hang
out a red lantern? What was that? Listen."

We both stood peering into the gloom. The sharp patter of the rain
on leaves had ceased, and from just ahead there came back to us the
stealthy padding of feet in wet soil. My hand closed on Hotchkiss'
shoulder, and we listened together, warily. The steps were close by,
unmistakable. The next flash of lightning showed nothing moving: the
house was in full view now, dark and uninviting, looming huge above a
terrace, with an Italian garden at the side. Then the blackness again.
Somebody's teeth were chattering: I accused Hotchkiss but he denied it.

"Although I'm not very comfortable, I'll admit," he confessed; "there
was something breathing right at my elbow here a moment ago."

"Nonsense!" I took his elbow and steered him in what I made out to be
the direction of the steps of the Italian garden. "I saw a deer just
ahead by the last flash; that's what you heard. By Jove, I hear wheels."

We paused to listen and Hotchkiss put his hand on something close to us.
"Here's your deer," he said. "Bronze."

As we neared the house the sense of surveillance we had h