"Oh, no; standing on a very substantial roof."

"But what is it all about?" I questioned. "Why should that light
descend every midnight? What _is_ the light, anyway?"

"That's what I've brought you out here to find out. You've got four
clear days ahead of you--and I'll be at your disposal from midnight
on, if you happen to need me."

"But you must have some sort of idea about it," I persisted. "At least
you know whose roof those figures were standing on."

"Yes, I know that. The roof belongs to a man named Worthington
Vaughan. Ever hear of him?"

I shook my head.

"Neither had I," said Godfrey, "up to the time I took this place. Even
yet, I don't know very much. He's the last of an old family, who made
their money in real estate, and are supposed to have kept most of it.
He's a widower with one daughter. His wife died about ten years ago,
and since then he has been a sort of recluse, and has the reputation
of being queer. He has been abroad a good deal, and it is only during
the last year that he has lived continuously at this place next door,
which is called Elmhurst. That's about all I've been able to find out.
He certainly lives a retired life, for his place has a twelve-foot
wall around it, and no visitors need apply."

"How do you know?"