The Dark Star

From the road, just before he descended to cross the bridge into

Brookhollow, he caught a gleam of light straight ahead. For a moment

it did not occur to him that there was anything strange in his seeing

a light in the old Carew house. Then, suddenly, he realised that a

light ought not to be burning behind the lowered shades of a house

which was supposed to be empty and locked.

His instant impulse was to put on his brakes then and there, but the

next moment he realised that his car must already have been heard and

seen by whoever had lighted that shaded lamp. The car was already on

the old stone bridge; the Carew house stood directly behind the

crossroads ahead; and he swung to the right into the creek road and

sped along it until he judged that neither his lights nor the sound of

his motor could be distinguished by the unknown occupant of the Carew

house.

Then he ran his car out among the tall weeds close to the line of

scrub willows edging the creek; extinguished his lights, including the

tail-lamp; left his engine running; stood listening a moment to the

whispering whirr of his motor; then, taking the flash light from his

pocket, he climbed over the roadside wall and ran back across the

pasture toward the house.

As he approached the old house from the rear, no crack of light was

visible, and he began to think he might have been mistaken--that

perhaps the dancing glare of his own acetylenes on the windows had

made it seem as though they were illuminated from within.

Cautiously he prowled along the rear under the kitchen windows, turned

the corner, and went to the front porch.

He had made no mistake; a glimmer was visible between the edge of the

lowered shade and the window casing.

Was it some impudent tramp who had preëmpted this lonely house for a

night's lodging? Was it, possibly, a neighbour who had taken charge in

return for a garden to cultivate and a place to sleep in? Yet, how

could it be the latter when he himself had the keys to the house?

Moreover, such an arrangement could scarcely have been made by Rue

Carew without his being told of it.

Then he remembered what the Princess Mistchenka had said in her cable

message, that somebody might break into the house and steal the

olive-wood box unless he hastened to Brookhollow and secured it

immediately.

Was this what was being done now? Had somebody broken in for that

purpose? And who might it be?

A slight chill, not entirely agreeable, passed over Neeland. A rather

warm sensation of irritation succeeded it; he mounted the steps,

crossed the verandah, went to the door and tried the knob very

cautiously. The door was locked; whoever might be inside either

possessed a key that fitted or else must have entered by forcing a

window.