swiftly around toward a certain window, the curtains of which were only
partly drawn, and his lounging attitude changed instantly to one of
watchful alertness.

As he sat thus, broad shoulders stooped, feet drawn up--poised for swift
action, he beheld a light that flashed here and there, that vanished and
came again, hovering up and down and to and fro outside the window;
wherefore he reached out a long arm in the gloom and silently opened a
certain drawer in the escritoire.

Came a soft click, a faint creak, and a breath of cool, fragrant air as
the window was cautiously opened, and a shapeless something climbed
through, while Mr. Ravenslee sat motionless--waiting.

The flashing light winked again, a small, bright disc that hovered
uncertainly and finally steadied upon the carved cabinet in the corner,
and the Something crept stealthily thither. A long-drawn, breathless
minute and then--the room was flooded with brilliant light, and a
figure, kneeling before the cabinet, uttered a strangled cry and leapt
up, only to recoil before Mr. Ravenslee's levelled revolver.

A pallid-faced, willowy lad, this, of perhaps seventeen, who, sinking to
his knees, threw up an arm across his face, then raised both hands above
his head.

"Ah, don't shoot, mister!" he gasped. "Oh, don't shoot--I got me hands
up!"

"Stand up!" said Ravenslee grimly, "up with you and shutter that
window--you may have friends outside, and I'm taking no chances!