Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/270

 “Yes, sir,” said Eddie. “This here romance thing is more romantic on a full stomach, though.”

“Well, go to bed, Eddie. I’m going to turn in.”

Eddie went into his room and prepared for the night. Val made his preparations quickly, threw open the window full, and turned out his light. There was a table near the window, and on it he threw the Bible which he had abstracted from Teck’s room.

“Good night, Eddie,” he called.

“Good night, sir,” came a sleepy voice.

The room was bathed in darkness and in sleep; the slumberous shadows were deep except near the window, where a wan moon somewhat lightened the gloom with a thin, cold, silvery light.

From far off, across the bay, came the bell of a vessel, to be answered by other bells, mellowed by their passage over the water. Here and there on the water the great searchlight of Fortress Monroe played unceasingly, vigilantly, and somewhere below, far on the road, an automobile chugged noisily on its way.

Outside Val’s window two shadows halted—a large bulk, on whose handless stumps the moon played, shrouding them in a ghastly light, and another, smaller, who held in his hand a flashlight.

“There it is—on the table,” whispered a hoarse voice, when Teck had got accustomed to the darkness. The table stood by the window, bathed in the light of the moon, and was easily discernible.

The smaller man reached in and seized the book. Outside, on the balcony, he played his flashlight on the cover.

“That’s it,” hissed the voice of Teck.

They were gone.