from one of the dim corners before me. Rushing to the window, I tore
down with one sweep of my arm both coat and shawl, and with a start
discovered that the window still possessed its draperies in the shape
of a pair of discolored and tattered curtains tied with ribbons that
must once have been brilliant and cheery of color.

Nor was this the only sign in the room of a bygone presence that had
possessed a taste for something beyond the mere necessities of life.
On the grim coarsely papered wall hung more than one picture; cut
from pictorial newspapers to be sure, but each and every one, if I may
be called a judge of such matters, possessing some quality of
expression to commend it to a certain order of taste. They were all
strong pictures. Vivid faces of men and women in daring positions; a
hunter holding back a jaguar from his throat; a soldier protecting
his comrade from the stroke; and most striking of all, a woman lissome
as she was powerful, starting aghast and horror stricken from--what?
I could not tell; a rough hand had stripped the remainder of the
picture from the wall.

A bit of candle and a half sheet of a newspaper lay on the floor. I
picked up the paper. It was a Rutland Herald and bore the date of two
days before. As I read I realized what I had done. If these daring
robbers were not at this very moment in the house, they had been
there, and that within two or three days. The broken panes of glass
in the garret above were now explained. I was not the first one who
had climbed that creaking pine tree this fall.

Something like a sensible dread of a very possible danger now seized
hold of me. If I had stumbled upon these strangely subtile, yet
devilishly bold creatures in their secret lair, the pistol I carried