On the other side there's a stout ivy vine that makes a practical ladder to the very top."
"But why, why, why?" Valeska almost wailed the words.
"Ah, you haven't read Metchnikoff."
Then, suddenly he cried, "Look!" and seized her arm.
They were standing beside the central pool now, and he pointed to Miss Fanshawe's window, clearly visible from this part of the garden. The moonlight struck the glass as the sash was raised. A form looked out, climbed rapidly across the sill, lowered itself till it hung by the hands, and then dropped lightly to the top of the garden wall. Quick as had been its appearance and disappearance, something was visible, tucked under one arm. While they stood fascinated, a white object appeared on the grass of the garden plot, the figure of a woman with hair streaming about her shoulders, apparently carrying a child. She came a few steps toward them, then retreated swiftly and made for the bushes by the north wall. In another instant she appeared atop the wall, and swung up to the first balcony of the portico, still bearing her burden. A few minutes more, and she reappeared on the roof.
"Quick, now!" cried Astro. "Run up to Miss Fanshawe's room and go in and wait for her to return. I'll hide in the bushes by the south wall and pop her full of blue paint. If I miss, there's the lightning-rod, her only way to enter the room."
"But what shall I say—how can I accuse her of it?"
Astro stopped suddenly and looked at her. "Why, my dear, I forgot. Is it possible you haven't guessed it yet? Miss Fanshawe is asleep. It's somnambulism, that's all. But hurry! Make any excuse if she's
