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Page 37
He went out into the corridor. There was no light under Breitmann's
door. So much the better; he was asleep. Fitzgerald crept down the
stairs with the caution of a hunter who is trailing new game. As he
arrived at the turn of the first landing, he hesitated. He could hear
the old clock striking off the seconds in the lower hall. He cupped
his ear. By George! Joining the sharp monotony of the clock was
another sound, softer, intermittent. He was certain that it came from
the library. That door was never closed. Click-click! Click-click!
The mystery was close at hand.
He moved forward. He wanted to get as close as possible to the
fireplace. He peered in. The fire was all but dead; only the corner
of a log glowed dully. Suddenly, the glow died, only to reappear,
unchanged. This phenomena could be due to one thing, a passing of
something opaque. Fitzgerald had often seen this in camps, when some
one's legs passed between him and the fire. Some one else was in the
room. With a light bound, he leaped forward, to find himself locked in
a pair of arms no less vigorous than his own.
And even in that lively moment he remembered that the sound in the
chimney went on!
CHAPTER X
THE GHOST OF AN OLD R�GIME
It was a quick, silent struggle. The intruder wore no shoes. It would
be a test of endurance. Fitzgerald recalled some tricks he had learned
in Japan; but even as he stretched out his arm to perform one, the arm
was caught by the wrist, while a second hand passed under his elbow.
"Don't!" he gasped lowly. "I'll give in." His arm would have snapped
if he hadn't spoken.
A muttered oath in German. "Fitzgerald?" came the query, in a whisper.
"Yes. For God's sake, is this you, Breitmann?"
"Sh! Not so loud! What are you doing here?"
"And you?"
"Listen! It has stopped. He has heard our scuffling."
"It seems, then, that we are both here for the same purpose?" said
Fitzgerald, pulling down his cuffs, and running his fingers round his
collar.
"Yes. You came too late or too soon." Breitmann stooped, and ran his
hands over the rug.
The other saw him but dimly. "What's the matter?"
"I have lost one of my studs," with the frugal spirit of his mother's
forebears. "You are stronger than I thought."
"Much obliged."
"It's a good thing you did not get that hold first. You'd have broken
my arm."
"Wouldn't have given in, eh? I simply cried quits in order to start
over again. There's no fair fighting in the dark, you know."
"Well, we have frightened him away. It is too bad."
"What have you on your feet?"
"Felt slippers."
"Are you afraid of the cold?"
A laugh. "Not I!"
"Come with me."
"Where?"
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