Herbert looked up at the dwelling, and something familiar about it arrested his attention. He looked again to make sure, but there could be no doubt about it.
It was the home of John Black. Herbert stood on the sidewalk for some seconds, half dazed at this entirely unexpected discovery. He wondered curiously what fatality it was that had brought him to this house on such a strange errand at such an hour of the night; but presently he aroused himself. Speculation was in vain; action was necessary. After a few whispered instructions to the officer, he walked up the high steps and rang the bell.
CHAPTER XXII
PROVING THAT BAD PERSONS, LIKE BAD PENNIES, ARE CONSTANTLY REAPPEARING
After ringing the bell of the house, Herbert waited for a long time, but there was no response. Instantly his whole being was thrown into a fever of impatience and unrest. He imagined all sorts of terrible things. His mind was filled with terror. What if he had arrived on the scene too late? What if some crime had been committed in the dead of the night? Curiously enough, during that mental review he never thought of John Black or his wife. The one person constantly in his mind was Mary Black.
He rang the bell a second time. This time it was done fiercely, angrily. He listened eagerly, but received no immediate response, and then consulted with the policeman upon the advisability of going to the rear of the house and breaking in. While they were talking a sound was heard at the parlor window, and the next moment it was thrown open. A head was pushed cautiously out of the window. Herbert recognized it at a glance. It was Mary Black. He was on the top step now, and leaning over, said quietly so as not to alarm the girl:
“Mary.”
She started at the sound of a familiar voice, and peering out into the gloom, exclaimed in genuine surprise:
“Herbert Harkins!”
“Yes, Mary,” he answered; “what is the difficulty?”
“Oh, I’m terribly frightened,” she cried, “someone has broken into the house. I don’t know who it is, except that it is a man. I was reading in my room when I heard a grating sound at the kitchen door. Presently it was opened, and footsteps could be heard going into the dining room. Then all was silent for awhile. I came down the front stairway about half way, and leaning over the banister, looked in the dining room. The fellow’s back was to me. He was seated at the table calmly eating some cold meat that he had taken out of the refrigerator. He had a couple of bottles of papa’s wine, also, and was drinking that with great relish. Scarcely knowing what to do, I crept back to my room. Both papa and mamma had gone out for the evening, and I had no idea when they would return home. While I was in my room, in an agony of fear, I heard the fellow come upstairs. He went back into the library, and securing a large tablecloth, filled it with the silverware and other valuable things that he had carried from the dining room. Then he sank back into a large arm chair and calmly went to sleep. It was then that I conceived the idea of sounding the alarm. I pulled the doors of the library to and locking them securely, came down to the hall, where we have a telephone, and notified the police.”