r, for sounds were
audible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if some
one were moving fire-irons.

"Elizabeth, probably!" whispered Margaret. "What shall we say to her?"

"Let's yell and rush out and scare her!" proposed Peggy.

"Hush!" said Rita. "Oh, hush! we know not who it is. Look! a gleam of
light,--the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silent
breath she blew out the lamp, and they were in total darkness.

They now saw plainly the light that shone through the crack of a door, a
few steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All was
still for a moment; then suddenly Peggy made a false step in the dark,
and stumbled; she uttered a smothered shriek, and then began to giggle.

"Animal!" muttered Rita through her teeth. "Can you not be silent?"

Peggy was now in front, and seeing that light came also through the
keyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttered
a dreadful shriek, and staggered back into Margaret's arms. "The man!"
she cried; "the man in black velvet!"

A chair was hastily pushed back in the room below; steps crossed the
floor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the further
end of the room was seen to close softly.

CHAPTER VIII.

CUBA LIBRE.

"But, Marguerite, when I tell you that I _know_!"

"But, Rita, my dear, how _can_ you know?"

"Look at me; listen to me! Have you your senses?"

"Most of them, I hope."

"Very well, then, attend! When stupid, stupid Peggy--I love her,
observe; she is my sister, but we must admit that she is stupid,--truth,
Marguerite, is the jewel of my soul--when she stumbled against the door,
when she screamed, we heard sounds, did we not?"

"We did!" Margaret admitted.

"Sounds,--and what sounds? Not the broom of a servant, not the rustle of
a dress,--no, we hear the step of a man! We enter, and a door closes at
the further end of the room; click, a lock snaps! I rush to the window;
a figure disappears around the corner of the house; I cannot see what
it is, but I would swear it was no woman. I return,--we look about us at
this room, which never have we seen before. A gentleman's room, as an
infant could perceive. A private library, study, what you will,
luxurious, enchanting. Books over which you sob with emotion,--or would
sob, if your temperament permitted you expression; pictures that fill my
soul with enchantment; a writing-table, and on it papers--