Van Vincent, a bright, handsome youth of eighteen years, who is to figure as the hero of this story, was awakened from his slumber by the creaking of the beams and timbers in the old-fashioned house he called his home.
Van was an orphan, as far as he knew, and lived with an uncle, who was reported as being very wealthy, though the house he lived in and his everyday appearance would not lead anyone to think so.
The last Van had ever heard of his father he had gone to Africa with an exploring party.
That was fifteen years before, and up to this time none of the party had ever returned.
Ralph Vincent, the uncle of Van, had given the boy a good education, and obtained for him the situation of bookkeeper in the largest store in Edgewater.
Consequently Van loved and respected his uncle, who had often declared that the boy should inherit what little he possessed in earthly goods.
As Van was awakened by the violence of the storm on the night upon which our story opens, he felt rather uneasy.
He had been aroused from a bad dream, and it took him several seconds to realize that he was home and in bed.
"My!" he exclaimed, leaping out of bed; "this is a fearful storm. I must close the window."
He started toward a window, the sash of which was lowered slightly, allowing the rain to dash into the room.