Then the knob of his door turned; he could not distinguish it in the
uncertain light, yet he knew it was turning by a peculiarly faint
screech--almost so faint as to be indistinguishable. One would not
notice it except at the dead of night.

The door hung a moment; then cautiously it swung back a little way, and
two men entered. The moon, though now low, was sufficient to light the
place faintly and to enable them to see and be seen.

For a brief interval they stood motionless. They came to life when
Harleston, reaching up, pushed the electric button.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked, blinking into their
levelled revolvers.

They were medium-sized men and wore evening clothes; one was about
forty-five and rather inclined to stoutness, the other was under forty
and rather slender. They were not masked, and their faces, which were
strange to Harleston, were the faces of men of breeding, accustomed to
affairs.

"You startled us, Mr. Harleston," the elder replied; "and you blinded us
momentarily by the rush of light."

"It was thoughtless of me," Harleston returned. He waved his hand toward
the chairs. "Won't you be seated, messieurs--and pardon my not arising;
I'm hardly in receiving costume. May I ask whom I am entertaining."

"Certainly, sir," the elder smiled. "This is Mr. Sparrow; I am Mr.