They now entered a neat garden, and walking up a gravel path ascended to the porch. There was no bell, but a brass knocker instead, and this Frank used vigorously.
A minute of dead silence followed. Then an upper window was shoved open and a head covered with a night-cap appeared.
“What do you want?”
“Is that you, Mr. Larchmond?”
“Yes.”
“I am Frank Landes, the collector and agent.”
“Gracious! What business do you want this time of night? I sent that consignment of eggs off——”
“The eggs are all right, Mr. Larchmond. I have other business of a more serious nature——”
“Gracious, you don’t mean it!” and the old man’s voice actually quivered.
“Shet the winder, you’ll catch yeour deth o’ cold, Thomas!” came in a shrill female voice.