which the gentleman was guiding himself. His face was clearly the original
of a photograph The Hopper had seen on the table at Muriel's cottage--Mr.
Wilton, Muriel's father, The Hopper surmised; but just why the owner of
the establishment should be prowling about in this fashion taxed his
speculative powers to the utmost. Warned by steps on the cement floor of
the conservatory, he left the door in haste and flattened himself against
the wall of the house some distance away and again awaited developments.

Wilton's figure was a blur in the star-light as he stepped out into the
walk and started furtively across the grounds. His conduct greatly
displeased The Hopper, as likely to interfere with the further carrying
out of Muriel's instructions. The Lang-Yao jar was much too large to go
into his pocket and not big enough to fit snugly under his arm, and as the
walk was slippery he was beset by the fear that he might fall and smash
this absurd thing that had caused so bitter an enmity between Shaver's
grandfathers. The soft snow on the lawn gave him a surer footing and he
crept after Wilton, who was carefully pursuing his way toward a house
whose gables were faintly limned against the sky. This, according to
Muriel's diagram, was the Talbot place. The Hopper greatly mistrusted
conditions he didn't understand, and he was at a loss to account for
Wilton's strange actions.

[Illustration: THE FAINT CLICK OF A LATCH MARKED THE PROWLER'S PROXIMITY
TO A HEDGE]

He lost sight of him for several minutes, then the faint click of a latch
marked the prowler's proximity to a hedge that separated the two estates.
The Hopper crept forward, found a gate through which Wilton had entered
his neighbor's property, and stole after him. Wilton had been swallowed up
by the deep shadow of the house, but The Hopper was aware, from an