All at once Ephraim rose from his chair, walked to the old bureau which stood near the door, opened it, and took from it a bulky volume, which he laid upon the table in front of him. But he did not seem at all bent upon reading. He began fingering the pages, until he came upon a bundle of bank-notes, and these he proceeded to count, with a whispering movement of his lips. He had but three or four more notes still to count, when his sharp ear detected the sound of stealthy footsteps, in the little courtyard in front of the house. Closing the book, and hastily putting it back again in the old bureau, Ephraim sprang to the window and opened it.
“Is that you, father?” he cried.
There was no answer.
Ephraim repeated his question.
He strained his eyes, peering into the dense darkness, but no living thing could he see. Then quite close to him a voice cried: “Make no noise... and first put out the light.”
“Heavens! Father, it is you then...!” Ephraim exclaimed.
“Hush!” came in a whisper from without, “first put out the light.”
Ephraim closed the window, and extinguished the light Then, with almost inaudible step, he walked out of the room into the dark passage; noiselessly he proceeded to unbolt the street-door. Almost at the same moment a heavy hand clasped his own.
“Father, father!” Ephraim cried, trying to raise his parent's hand to his lips.
“Make no noise,” the man repeated, in a somewhat commanding tone.