Fatigue and loss of sleep deepened the dejection of mind that oppressed
me with these insistent questions, and as I vainly struggled against
it, carried me at last into the oblivion of dreamless slumber.
The next I knew I was awaking to the sound of breaking glass. It was
dark but for a feeble light that came from the window. Every bone in my
body ached from the cramped position in which I had slept, and it
seemed an age before I could rouse myself to act. It was, however, but
a second before I was on my feet, revolver in hand, with the desk
between me and a possible assailant.
Silence, threatening, oppressive, surrounded me as I stood listening,
watching, for the next move. Then I heard a low chuckle, as of some one
struggling to restrain his laughter; and so far from sympathizing with
his mirth, I was tempted to try the effect of a shot as an assistance
in suppressing it.
"I thought the transom was open," said a low voice, which still seemed
to be struggling with suppressed laughter.
"I guess it woke him up," said another and harsher voice. "I heard a
noise in there."
"You're certain he's there?" asked the first voice with another
chuckle.
"Sure, Dicky. I saw him go in, and Porter and I have taken turns on
watch ever since."
"Well, it's time he came out," said Dicky. "He can't be asleep after
that racket. Say!" he called, "Harry! What's the matter with you? If
you're dead let us know."
They appeared friendly, but I hesitated in framing an answer.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49