Tap, tap, tap.
Once again came the mysterious summons—this time more imperative than before.
As the last knock died away, an idea flashed into my mind. Rising to my feet, I moved stealthily across the hall, and, creeping up the staircase like a cat, I turned into my own bedroom, which looked out on the front of the house. The window was still open, and, advancing towards it with infinite care, I was just preparing to make a cautious reconnaissance when I suddenly heard a shuffling movement down below. I paused, and, almost at the same second the loud jangling peal of the front door bell echoed up from the kitchen.
Somehow or other, the sound acted on me like a tonic. Without hesitating any longer, I thrust my head out over the sill, and there, right underneath me, I saw the ragged, curly-haired figure of my little friend, Jimmy.
"Hullo, James," I called out, "what are you doing here?"
He took a step back, and looked up.
"I gotter letter for you guv'nor—a letter from the young laidy."
"The devil you have!" I exclaimed eagerly. "You hang on there, my son. I'll be with you in half a tick."
Thrusting the revolver into my pocket, I hurried downstairs again, and with feverish haste unchained and opened the front door. Jimmy wiped his boots noisily on the mat, and with a cheerful grin advanced into the hall.
"I seed the light through the shutters," he explained, "and I guessed you was inside. That's why I knocked at the winder."