thought. Then he spoke aloud: "Who's there?"

No answer.

"Who is it?" Ralph demanded, in a louder tone. "What are you doing?
What do you want?"

Still no answer. Only an impressive and uncanny silence.

Reaching out for his walking stick, which lay on the table beside
him, Ralph got up from the chair without noise or further ado,
and took a few steps forward. As he did so, a burly form crashed
against him in the darkness, knocking him down. Unhurt, though
considerably startled, Ralph sprawled upon the carpet and stared
quickly up at the window, by which the intruder would have to pass
in order to reach the doorway leading into the kitchen. At the
same moment, he raised his voice and called out:

"Tom! Arthur! Come down here! Oh, Tom!"

"Curse you!" muttered a harsh voice. "Shut up, or I'll-----"

"Tom!" yelled Ralph, defiantly. He would have risen at once and
grappled with the intruder, only, with a weak ankle, he did not
care to run the risk of a nasty blow or a bad fall. He yelled
lustily instead, and in a minute he heard Tom spring out of bed
and come tearing down the stairs.

But his mysterious assailant lost not a moment in making a getaway;
he did not even wait to slip out by the rear door, through which