care of the royal mails it would be safe. If it were, indeed, that
person at the gate, and not some one--

"One moment, Dennis!" The man paused. "Of course you will make sure it
is the postman--?"

The servant stared at this guest whose demeanor was becoming more and
more eccentric. "As if I didn't know his knock!" he said, departing.

The afternoon waned; the shadows began to fall; John Steele's pulses now
throbbed expectantly. He called for a key to the gate and moved toward
the front door; by this time the darkness had deepened, and, key in
hand, he stepped out.

At first he walked toward the front on the gravel that the servant might
hear him, but near the entrance he paused, hesitating, to look out. As
he remained thus, some one, who had been standing not far off, drew
near. This person steathily passed; in doing so he glanced around; but
John Steele felt uncertain whether the fellow had or had not been able
to distinguish him in the gloom. John Steele waited, however, until the
other moved a short distance on; then he retraced his own way quietly,
keeping to the grass, toward the house; near it he swerved and in the
same rapid manner stole around the place until he reached the back wall.

There he examined his position, felt the top, then placed his fingers on
the wall. It was about six feet high, but seizing hold, he was about to
spring into the air, when behind him, from the direction of the Row, a
low metallic sound caught his attention. The front gate to the Forsythe
house had suddenly clicked; some one had entered,--not the servant; John
Steele had seen him but a few moments before in the kitchen; some one,