principles. I don't care how soon we get rid of the Marquis de
Boisdhyver, but I shouldn't exactly like to shoot him out with a load of
buckshot in his hide."

Tom stood waiting with his boots in hand. Dan went to his bureau and took
out his father's old pistol, that had done duty in the West India trade
years ago, when pirates were not romantic memories but genuine menaces.

"Sh!" whispered Dan as he opened the door. "Let's blow out the candle.
It's moonlight, and we will be safer without it. Be careful as you go
down stairs not to wake Mother and Nancy."

Tom blew out the candle and slipped the end into his pocket, as he
tiptoed after Dan down the stairs. At every step the old boards seemed to
creak as though in pain. As they paused breathless half-way down on the
landing, they heard no sound save the loud ticking of the clock in the
hall below and the gentle whispering of the breeze without. The moon
gave light enough had they needed it, but each of them could have found
his way through every nook and corner of the Inn in darkness as well as
in broad day-light. They crept down the short flight from the landing,
paused and listened at the doors of Mrs. Frost's and Nancy's chambers,
and then slipped noiselessly into the bar where the logs still glowed on
the hearth.

"Shall we," asked Tom in a low tone, "go down the corridor or
around outside?"

"Best outside," Dan whispered. "If we go down the corridor we are like to
frighten him if he is the Marquis, or get a bullet in our gizzards if he
is not. Should he be inside, he'll have a light and we can find just