let me go. Towzer isn't enough company on such a night,
and like as not he will get tired of waiting and come home without her.
What was that? Oh, only the clock. Eleven! I had no idea it was so
late."

She rose from her chair and paced restlessly back and forth across the
room, pausing at every turn to look first out of one window and then
out of the other, as if trying to penetrate the inky blackness of the
stormy night. The unlatched gate creaked dismally on its hinges;
somewhere a door banged shut; and then an old bucket blew off the back
porch and down the steps with a rattlety-clatter which made the two
watchers within start and shiver.

Peace heard it, too, and sat bolt upright in bed, not knowing what had
awakened her, but trembling like a leaf with nervous fear. A terrific
gust of wind roared around the corner, shaking the little brown house
from rafter to foundation; the great elm trees tossed and groaned in
sympathy, and the leafless vines over the porch beat a mournful tattoo
against the walls.

"Have you ever heard the wind go 'Yoooooo?'
'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!
It seems to chill you through and through
With a strange and speechless fear,"

chattered Peace, hardly conscious of what she was saying. The gate shut
with a clang. "What's that? Sounded 's if--it _was_ the gate banging
and someone is coming up the steps! I wonder who it can be this time of
night and in all this storm?"

She listened intently for the visitor to knock. None came, but the front
door was opened unceremoniously, a blast of wind tore through the house,
and she heard two excited, relieved voices exclaim, "Oh, Gail! We
thought you would never come. Take off your coat this minute! You are
drenched!"

"What on earth is Gail doing out of doors in this rain?" said Peace to
herself. "She was sewing when I came up to bed. I'm going to find out."
Tumbling out of her warm nest, she crept softly down the stairs, and
slipped behind the faded drapery which served as door to the tiny hall
closet, from which position she could watch the girls in the
living-room, and hear much of what they were saying.

The first words which greeted her ears as the curtain fell back in
position with her behind it, were Faith's: "Oh, Gail, not Mr.
_Skinner_!"

"Yes," answered the oldest sister in a strained, unnatural voice that
struck terror to the little spy's heart, "Mr. Skinner!"

"But I thought Mr. Hartman held the mortgage," H