ir neighbors as a blank wall reflects a beacon fire.

And now it was destined that they should experience the one keen
sensation of their later years, the one memorable incident from which
all future incidents should be dated.

It was on the very night which succeeded the events which have just been
narrated, when suddenly into Monica William's head, as she tossed upon
her sleepless bed, there shot a thought which made her sit up with a
thrill and a gasp.

"Bertha," said she, plucking at the shoulder of her sister, "I have left
the front window open."

"No, Monica, surely not." Bertha sat up also, and thrilled in sympathy.

"I am sure of it. You remember I had forgotten to water the pots, and
then I opened the window, and Jane called me about the jam, and I have
never been in the room since."

"Good gracious, Monica, it is a mercy that we have not been murdered in
our beds. There was a house broken into at Forest Hill last week. Shall
we go down and shut it?"

"I dare not go down alone, dear, but if you will come with me. Put on
your slippers and dressing-gown. We do not need a candle. Now, Bertha,
we will go down together."

Two little white patches moved vaguely through the darkness, the stairs
creaked, the door whined, and they were at the front room window. Monica
closed it gently down, and fastened the snib.

"What a beautiful moon!" said she, looking out. "We can see as clearly
as if it were day. How peaceful and quiet the three houses are over
yonder! It seems quite sad to see that `To Let' card upon number one. I
wonder how number two will like their going. For my part I could better
spare that dreadful woman at number three with her short skirts and
her snake. But, oh, Bertha, look! look!! look!!!" Her voice had fallen
suddenly to a quivering whisper and she was pointing to the Westmacotts'
house. Her sister gave a gasp of horror, and stood with a clutch at
Monica's arm, staring in the same direction.

There was a light in the front room, a slight, wavering light such as
would be given by a small candle or taper. The blind was down, but
the light shone dimly through. Outside in the garden, with his figure
outlined against the luminous square, there stood a man, his back to the
road, his two hands upon the window ledge, and his body rather bent as
though he were trying to peep in past the blind. So absolutely still
and motionless was he that in spite of the moon they might well have
overlooked him we