The stone mansion and the farmhouse were little more than a hundred yards apart, on a direct line. Over the hill the distance was, of course, greater. The farmhouse was unlighted, but several of the rooms in the mansion were illuminated.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Harry felt indolent in the sleep-inspiring atmosphere. The scene was gloomy with the afterglow.
There was nothing that inspired action.
Staring toward the quiet building, Harry half-closed his eyes. Then he became suddenly tense, and dropped beside the stone wall. Some one was coming up the hill from the direction of Blair Windsor’s house.
Harry distinguished the outlined form of a man as the stranger clambered over the stone wall. Then the silhouetted figure disappeared from the background of the sky, and became almost invisible. The man was going down the slope toward the cottage.
Turning his eyes in that direction, Harry saw the reflection of a light from a side window, which he had not seen before, on the second floor of the low, two-story building.
He watched. The man came into the dim-reflected light; then turned, as though advancing to the front porch of the farmhouse.
After a last look at the Windsor mansion, marked now only by its lighted windows, Harry stole down the hill to the little house below.
* * *
There was a tree at the side of the frame building. Under its shelter, Harry gazed at the lighted window.