friendly greeting.

Gaining my study, I sat down at once to write. Over my head I could
hear Captain Fraser-Freer moving about--attiring himself, probably, for
dinner. I was thinking, with an amused smile, how horrified he would be
if he knew that the crude American below him had dined at the impossible
hour of six, when suddenly I heard, in that room above me, some stranger
talking in a harsh determined tone. Then came the captain's answering
voice, calmer, more dignified. This conversation went along for some
time, growing each moment more excited. Though I could not distinguish a
word of it, I had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a controversy
on; and I remember feeling annoyed that any one should thus interfere
with my composition of your letter, which I regarded as most important,
you may be sure.

At the end of five minutes of argument there came the heavy thump-thump
of men struggling above me. It recalled my college days, when we used
to hear the fellows in the room above us throwing each other about in
an excess of youth and high spirits. But this seemed more grim, more
determined, and I did not like it.--However, I reflected that it was
none of my business. I tried to think about my letter.

The struggle ended with a particularly heavy thud that shook our ancient
house to its foundations. I sat listening, somehow very much depressed.
There was no sound. It was not entirely dark outside--the long
twilight--and the frugal Walters had not lighted the hall lamps.
Somebody was coming down the stairs very quietly--but their creaking
betrayed him. I waited for him to pass through the shaft of light that
poured from the door open at my back. At that moment Fate intervened in
the shape of a breeze through my windows, the door banged shut, and a
heavy man rushed by me in the darkness and ran down the stairs. I knew
he was heavy, because the passageway was narrow and he had to push me
aside to get by. I heard him swear beneath his breath.

Quickly I went to a hall window at the far end that looked out on the
street. But the front door did not open; no one came out. I was puzzled
for a second; then I reentered my room and hurried to my balcony. I
could make out the dim figure of a man running through the garden at
the rear--that garden of which I have so often spoken. He did not try
to open the gate; he climbed it, and so disappeared from sight into the
alley.

For a moment I considered. These were odd actio