And then he found himself bathed in a flood of illumination that came from directly overhead. Some one within the house had switched on the porch-light!
"Run!" he whispered to himself.
Too late! In front of him a French window was slowly opening. Pete stared at it hypnotically. Wider and wider it swung as he stood there inert, as incapable of flight as though his bare feet were nailed to the porch floor.
And then from out the window stepped a stout gentleman of middle age whose face wore an innocuous and cordial smile. He did not seem to be smiling at anything in particular, but rather at the whole world. Evidently it had been warm in the house, for he was coatless and collarless and his shirt was unbuttoned at the throat. Hugged against his bosom with one hand was a bottle in which there was no cork. Swinging loosely in the other hand was a carbonated water siphon.
The stout gentleman's glance rested upon Pete with the utmost friendliness. His smile ceased to be a generalization and became a greeting. He bowed. He winked slowly and ponderously. The winking achievement pleased him so well that he repeated it, and afterward tried it with the other eye, where he again succeeded to his still greater satisfaction.
"Prince," said the stout gentleman, "have a drink."
Pete indulged in a deep sigh of relief.
"Sir," he said, returning the bow, "your hospitality charms me. I don't mind if I do."
"Hold 'em," said the gentleman, proffering the bottle and the siphon. "Have a chair, prince. Back in a minute."
He turned and disappeared through the French window. There was a barely perceptible unsteadiness in his gait, but it did not interfere with his efficiency, for he returned within a few seconds, bearing two glasses. Pete and the gentleman drank to each other punctiliously, the latter waving his glass with a grandiose flourish before he put it to his lips.