As I entered my room with a lighted candle in my hand, there came an awful crash at the window—the glass and framework were shivered to atoms, and in the current of air that rushed through the room, my light went out. Then there came a crackling, breaking sound from the branches of the old apple tree beneath my window; then a scraping on the bricks and window-ledge; then more splintering of glass and window-frame: the blind broke away at the top, and my toilet table was overturned—the looking-glass smashing to pieces on the floor, and I was conscious that someone had stepped into the room.
At the same moment the door behind me was pushed open, and Hagar, frightened out of her wits, peered in with a lamp in her hand.
By its light I first saw Phillip Rutley.
A well-built, manly, handsome young fellow, with bright eyes and light, close-cropped curly hair, he seemed like a merry boy who had just popped over a wall in search of a cricket ball rather than an intruder who had broke into the house of two lone women in so alarming a manner.
My fear yielded to indignation when I realized that it was a strange man who had made his way into my room with so little ceremony, but his first words—or rather the way in which he spoke them—disarmed me.
"IT'S ONLY MY BALLOON"
"I beg ten thousand pardons. Pay for all the damage. It's only my balloon!"
"Good gracious!" ejaculated Hagar.
My curiosity was aroused. I went forward to the shattered window.