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Page 74
When upon the right I heard a faint rustling I started, and grasped
the revolver in my pocket.
"Not a sound!" came in Carneta's voice. "Keep just inside the
bushes and come this way. There is something I want to show you."
The various profuse growths rendered concealment simple enough--if
indeed any other concealment were necessary than that which the
strangely black night afforded. Just within the evil-smelling
thicket we made a half circuit of the building, and stopped.
"Look!" whispered Carneta.
The word was unnecessary, for I was staring fixedly in the direction
of that which evidently had occasioned her uneasiness.
It was a small square window, so low-set that I assumed it to be
that of a cellar, and heavily cross-barred.
From it, out upon a tangled patch of vegetation, shone a dull red
light!
"There's no other light in the place," my companion whispered.
"For God's sake, what can it be?"
My mind supplied no explanation. The idea that it might be a dark
room no doubt was suggested by the assumed role of Carneta; but I
knew that idea to be absurd. The red light meant something else.
Evidently the commencing of operations before all lights were out
was irregular, for Carneta said slowly--
"We must wait and watch the light. There was formerly a moat
around the Gate House; that must be the window of a dungeon."
I little relished the prospect of waiting in that swamp-like spot,
but since no alternative presented itself I accepted the inevitable.
For close upon an hour we stood watching the red window. No sound
of bird, beast, or man disturbed our vigil; in fact, it would
appear that the very insects shunned the neighbourhood of Hassan of
Aleppo. But the red light still shone out.
"We must risk it!" said Carneta steadily. "There are French windows
opening on to that verandah. Ten yards farther around the bushes
come right up to the wall of the house. We'll go that way and
around by the other wing on to the verandah."
Any action was preferable to this nerve-sapping delay, and with a
determination to shoot, and shoot to kill, any one who opposed
our entrance, I passed through the bushes and, with Carneta, rounded
the southern border of that silent house and slipped quietly on to
the verandah.
Kneeling, Carneta opened the knapsack. My eyes were growing
accustomed to the darkness, and I was just able to see her deft
hands at work upon the fastenings. She made no noise, and I
watched her with an ever-growing wonder. A female burglar is a
personage difficult to imagine. Certainly, no one ever could have
suspected this girl with the violet eyes of being an expert
crackswoman; but of her efficiency there could be no question. I
think I had never witnessed a more amazing spectacle than that of
this cultured girl manipulating the tools of the house breaker with
her slim white fingers.
Suddenly she turned and clutched my arm.
"The windows are not fastened!" she whispered.
A strange courage came to me--perhaps that of desperation. For,
ignoring the ominous circumstance, I pushed open the nearest
window and stepped into the room beyond! A hissing breath from
Carneta acknowledged my performance, and she entered close behind
me, silent in her rubber-soled shoes.
For one thrilling moment we stood listening. Then came the white
beam from the electric lamp to cut through the surrounding blackness.
The room was totally unfurnished!
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