Mr. Wyman had been writing about half an hour when he turned to the window behind him as if he had heard an unusual sound. Then he returned to his writing. Again he swung around in his chair and listened. Then he rose and walked quickly to the window.
"Annie, is that you?" he called.
There was no reply.
"I am sure I heard a sound in the garden," he said to himself.
"Probably you are right, consul, although I tried to make as little noise as possible."
Mr. Wyman started back involuntarily. The words which were spoken in a whisper, seemed to come from a clump of bushes at the right of the window. Mr. Wyman peered into the darkness but could see no one.
"Who are you?" he asked loudly, "who comes stealing into my garden under the cover of darkness?"
"Are you alone?" was the only reply.
"And of what concern is that to you?"
"Sure, and if you were me you would concern yourself a good bit about it."