let them go than take such
a risk.

Yet a wiser, saner self told me that this was no business of thievery.
The thing went deeper, further than I could see or guess. I lay
listening: from time to time I could hear the boards settle beneath his
feet. Evidently he was groping about the darkened room, in search of
something.... Then a faint jar told me that his hand was on the iron
railing of my bed.

It wasn't a reassuring thought that he had been groping about the room
solely to find my bed. My muscles set for a desperate leap in case I
felt him groping nearer.... There was a long, ominous instant of
silence. Then a little triangle of light danced out over my table-top.

It was a ray from a flashlight, and it came and went so soon that there
was no chance to make accurate observation. I did, however, see just the
edge of his hand as he reached for something on the flat surface of the
table. It was a white, strong hand--long, sensitive fingers--evidently
the hand of a well-bred, middle-aged man.

The light flashed out. Steps sounded softly on the floor. Then my door
closed with a slight shock.

There is no use trying to justify my inactivity during his presence in
the room. At such times a man is guided by instinct--and my instinct had
been to lie still and let him do his work. The action might condemn me
in some eyes, but I felt no shame for it. And as soon as the door closed
I sprang to the floor.

Groping, I found the light, and the white beams flooded the room.
Presently I opened the door and gazed down the gloomy hall.

It was still as a tomb. There were a dozen doors along it, and any one
of them might have closed behind the intruder. It was the hall of a
well-ordered country manor, rather commonplace in the subdued light of a
single globe that burned over the stairway. The opportunity to overtake
the intruder was irredeemably past.

It wasn't hard to tell what had been taken. The sheet of parchment, on
which was written the mysterious cryptogram, was gone from the table.
The only satisfaction I had was that the thief had failed to see and
procure the copy of the document I had made just before retiring.

CHAPTER X

The sheriff and the coroner arrived from Ochakee in a roadster soon
after dawn. All of us felt relieved at their coming: they represented
the best and most intelligent type of southern citizenry. Sheriff
Slatterly was scarcely older than I was, and had been given his office
for merit