approach the window. It was opened, and
the head of the master thrust out. Paul thought that he must be found
out. There seemed no help for it. He gave himself up for lost.
Fortunately, the light of the moon was quite obscured at this moment,
and Paul seemed only a part of the shadows that were flitting over
parapet and roof.

"It sounded very much like the cry of a human being," said the master,
peering out, "but it couldn't have been. It must have been the wind, or
a night-bird."

Then, to Paul's inexpressible relief, he heard the window close. Some
seconds elapsed, however, before he ventured to look up. He feared, in
spite of the closed window, to find the eyes of the master fixed upon
him. Should he turn back? No; that would be acting the coward's part.
Besides, he must catch another glimpse of the face he had seen.

Presently he heard the murmur of voices within, and knew that the two
had resumed their interrupted interview. So, taking his courage in both
hands, Paul peeped once more into the room.

Yes, he was sure of it. The man with whom Mr. Weevil was talking was
Israel Zuker, the German Jew--the man who had tried to wrest from him
Mr. Moncrief's letter--the man for whom he believed his father had
sacrificed his life!

Why had Zuker come there? Paul would have given a good deal to know what
the two were talking about, but not a word of their conversation reached
his ears. They were bending low, and spoke in little more than whispers.
For one thing, that was an advantage. They were so earnestly engaged in
conversation, that they were the less likely to notice anything that
happened outside. Paul therefore determined not to put off any longer
the effort to reach Stanley.

He crept quickly to the other side of the window, then waited. He could
still hear the hum of voices, so he felt sure that he had not been seen.

"Now for old Stan. I'm sure he won't be asleep."

Paul crept close to the window, and tapped on it with his nail.

"Who's there?" said Stanley.

The window was cautiously opened, and Paul slipped into the room.

"Paul! You don't mean to say it's you!" exclaimed Stanley as their hands
met in the darkness. "What's brought you here?"

"To see you, of course."

"Well, you can't see much of me, I'm thinking, by this precious light;
so, if you won't mind me saying it, old chap, it was silly of you to
come."

"No it wasn't. I couldn't bear the thought of your moping here by
yourself, and it