where he is. I have a notion that it's the Marquis and that he'll be in
the Oak Parlour. We'd better creep along the porch."

Very softly he unlocked the door, and stepped outside. Tom was close
behind him. They crept stealthily along next the wall well within the
shadow of the roof, pausing at every window to peer through the
cracks of the shutters. But all were dark. As they turned the corner
of the porch at the end of the main portion of the inn from which
the north wing extended, Dan suddenly put his hand back and stopped
Tom. "Wait," he breathed, "there's a light in the Oak Parlour. Stay
here, while I peek in."

With gun in hand he crept up to the nearest window of the Oak Parlour.
The heavy shutters were closed, but between the crack made by the warping
of the wood, he could distinguish a streak of golden light. He waited a
moment; and, then at the risk of alarming the intruder within, carefully
tried the shutter. To his great satisfaction it yielded and swung slowly,
almost noiselessly, back upon its hinges; the inside curtains were drawn;
but a slight gap had been left. Peering in through this, Dan found he
could get a view of a small section of the interior,--the end of the
great Dorsetshire cabinet on the farther side of the room and a part of
the wall. Before the cabinet, bending over its shelf, stood the familiar
form of the Marquis de Boisdhyver, apparently absorbed in a minute
examination of the carving. But Dan's attention was quickly diverted from
the figure of the old Frenchman, for by his side, also engaged in a
similar examination of the cabinet, stood Nancy. For a moment he watched
them with intent interest, but as he could not discover what so absorbed
them he slipped back to Tom, who was waiting at the turn of the porch.

"It's the Marquis," he whispered in his friend's ear.