“No — a face! Out the window! Peering in at me! Did you see it, too, Hodgson?”
Then, Bob realized that Hodgson had indeed spoken the truth when he said he was nearly blind. The old man’s stonelike, groping expression told that. Hodgson shook his head.
“No, sir. It might have been something caught in those branches that sway against the window. There’s a single tree in the garden out there.”
Bob pushed back his chair and crossed the room to the window. He unfastened the latch and opened the casement. Only the branches of the lone tree swayed mournfully against the casement in the night wind. Nothing more.
Bob bolted the casement again, and shook his head, his lips compressed.
“Strange — strange,” he muttered. “I could have sworn some one was out there, spying on me.”
Then he turned again to Hodgson. “Did my uncle have any — enemies, Hodgson? Men who wanted his ruin — his life, perhaps?”
“No, sir. Not that I know of, sir.”
“Well — have you noticed anything peculiar about the old place, Hodgson? Is — is Miss Betty all right?”
The old man moistened his lips and hesitated. Then he spoke.