The young man at his side gazed down silently upon the scattered lights,
his heart throbbing in a sudden tumult of excitement. He had set out
that day with the idea of resting his eyes on St. James. In its silent
mystery the town now lay at his feet.

"And that light--" spoke the old man. He pointed a trembling arm toward
the glare that shone more powerfully than the others. "That light marks
the sacred home of the king!" His voice had again changed. A metallic
hardness came into it, his words were vibrant with a strange excitement
which he strove hard to conceal. It was still light enough for Captain
Plum to see that the old man's black, beady eyes were startlingly alive
with newly aroused emotion.

"You mean--"

"Strang!"

He started rapidly down the knoll and there floated back to Captain Plum
the soft notes of his meaningless chuckle. A dozen rods farther on his
mysterious guide turned into a by-path which led them to another knoll,
capped by a good-sized building made of logs. There sounded the grating
of a key in a lock, the shooting of a bolt, and a door opened to admit
them.

"You will pardon me if I don't light up," apologized the old man as he
led the way in. "A candle will be sufficient. You know there must be
privacy in these matters--always. Eh? Isn't that so?"

Captain Plum followed without reply. He guessed that the cabin was made