"he could
give us such good things to eat."

"It doesn't look it," said the girl.

"I know," continued the man in the same eager whisper. "But--who was
it was telling me? Some doctor I know who came down to see him. He
said Carey does himself awfully well, has the house full of bully
pictures, and the family plate, and wonderful collections--things he
picked up in the East--gold ornaments, and jewels, and jade."

"I shouldn't think," said the girl in the same hushed voice, "they
would let him live so far from any neighbors with such things in the
house. Suppose burglars----"

"Burglars! Burglars would never hear of this place. How could
they?--Even his friends think it's just a private madhouse."

The girl shivered and drew back from the gate.

Fred coughed apologetically.

"I'VE heard of it," he volunteered. "There was a piece in the Sunday
Post. It said he eats his dinner in a diamond crown, and all the walls
is gold, and two monkeys wait on table with gold----"

"Nonsense!" said the man sharply. "He eats like any one else and
dresses like any one else. How far is the well from the house?"

"It's purty near," said the chauffeur.

"Pretty near the house, or pretty near here?"

"Just outside the kitchen; and it makes a creaky noise."

"You mean you don't want to go?"

Fred's answer was unintelligible.

"You wait here with Miss Forbes," said the young man. "And I'll get
the water."

"Yes, sir!" said Fred, quite distinctly.

"No, sir!" said Miss Forbes, with equal distinctness. "I'm not going
to be left here alone--with all these trees. I'm going with you."

"There may be a dog," suggested the young man, "or, I was thinking if
they heard me prowling about, they might take a shot--just for luck.
Why don't you go back to the car with Fred?"

"Down that long road in the dark?" exclaimed the girl. "Do you think I
have no imagination?"

The man in front, the girl close on his heels, and the boy with the
buckets following, crawled through the broken gate, and moved
cautiously up the gravel driveway.

Within fifty feet of the house the courage of the chauffeur returned.

"You wait here," he whispered, "and if I wake 'em up, you shout to 'em
that it's all right, that it's only me."

"Your idea being," said the young man, "that they will then fire at me.
Clever lad. Run along."

There was a rustling of the dead weeds, and instantly the chauffeur was
swallowed in the encompassing shadow