tating, almost coming to a standstill, but still always making some progress. It moved along the ruined walls, it came nearer and nearer. To both of them it became evident that whatever it was, whatever carried it, must presently pass opposite them and be darkly outlined against the glowing background of the moon. They had only to wait and they would see.
The wait, however, began to seem very long, since the wavering advance of the point of light was very slow. Betsey, in the lagging delay as the seconds passed, felt her attention beginning to wander. She noticed how slim and graceful were the sweeping boughs of the tree that hid them, she observed the thin frettings of black and white of the shadows of the leaves on the wall. Very earnestly she wished that she could sit as still as David could and not be tempted to swing her feet against the stones. She began to think, as the minutes still dragged, of that man they had seen go in at Miss Miranda's gate.
"David," she leaned over to whisper, "you said you had seen that man before. What did he look like?"
"Why," David answered, coming out of his own thoughts with a start, "he was dark, rather heavy, but with a thin face. I didn't like him."
"Did he have," a slow possibility was dawning in Betsey's mind, as she dwelt upon who this man
