THE PATH OF THORNS
Twenty years ago the village of Courberode looked different from what it does to-day. It consisted of a few miserable fishermen's cabins. One hundred feet from the beach a path filled with thorns led far into the country. The thorns in the course of time had become impenetrable walls, and this gave rise to the name, "The Path of Thorns."
Just behind it stood an old tumble-down house. The basement of this house consisted of a smoky room furnished with one table, two chairs and a flickering oil lamp. A man was walking up and down the low apartment.
"I wonder whether he will come," he muttered to himself.
At this moment a slight noise was heard outside. A knock came at the door.
"Who's there?" asked the man roughly.
"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" came back in reply.
"Yes. Come right in."
Spero entered, his clothes dripping wet, and blue-black hair hanging over his forehead.