The man in the cloak strode swiftly past the hotel section into the palatial residence district. He now had the manner of one who knew exactly where he was going and was in a hurry to get there.
At the gates of a great iron fence enclosing the park-like grounds of one of the palatial residences with which the street was lined, the stranger paused, then entered without a glance behind him. Ned followed him swiftly up the gravel walk, to drop flat behind a spreading rosebush as his quarry wheeled like a flash and stood stock still, staring intently back at the street.
For a few moments the boy dared scarcely to breathe. Then, to his relief, the man again turned, but instead of mounting the imposing flight of stone steps, flanked by two carved lions bearing an armorial crest in their mouths, he slipped a key into a little half-concealed postern door and vanished inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
Ned hesitated but an instant, then himself plunged into the yawning black hole. It was so dark that he had to grope his way forward with hands outstretched in front of him, shuffling his feet along, one after the other. Scarcely had he gone three steps forward when two muscular hands closed around his throat from behind, half strangling him, and a heavy voice boomed through the narrow confines of the entry:
“Ho! Emil, Oscar, Friedrich! This way! Hurry! I have caught a burglar!”
Ned’s sight began to blur. There was a loud buzzing in his ears and sparks of red, vivid blue and yellow light danced before his eyes. He was helpless in the iron clutch of the man behind him. Then came the heavy sound of running feet and three husky servants in livery arrived and overpowered him. One tripped him flat on his face, while the others bound his arms immovably to his sides with a piece of rope. They mauled him about and gave him a couple of kicks for good measure.
“Bring him up here,” commanded the master of the house abruptly, leading the way up a narrow little flight of stairs.
As Ned stumbled upward, pushed by the excited serving-men, he saw for the first time that a very comely young woman was standing at the head of the staircase, with a loose dressing gown thrown around her, just as if she had been frightened from her bed by the noise of the scuffle and shouts below stairs.
“What are you doing here, Marya?” demanded the mysterious man in the cape in what seemed to Ned to be an unjustifiably gruff tone. “Why aren’t you in bed where you belong at this hour?”
The girl’s hands were pressed to her heart, but she was making a brave effort to conceal her agitation.