Then there
came through the door the low, stern tones of a man's voice speaking
earnestly, pleadingly, threateningly, but in a suppressed monotone.
Then the groan broke forth again, and it was followed by sobs and
choked sounds, as of one who protested, yet, strangely, the voice was
the same. There was one man, not two. It was self-accusation, self-
excuse, and the sobs seemed to come in answer to self-reproaches.
Then there was sound as of a man praying, and the prayer was broken by
sobs; and again I thought there were two men. And then there was noise
of a man moving about, and a long smothered groan, as of one in agony
of spirit. Fearful that the door might be flung open in my face, I
tiptoed back to my room, and silently turned the key, as thoroughly
mystified as ever I had been in the strange events that had crowded my
life since I had entered the city.
CHAPTER XVII
IN A FOREIGN LAND
I stood long by my own door, irresolute, listening, hoping, fearing, my
brain throbbing with the effort to seize some clue to the maze of
mysteries in which I was entangled. Was the clue behind those locked
doors? Did the man whose groans and prayers had startled me hold the
heart of the mystery?
The groans and prayers, if they continued, could be heard no longer
through the double doors, and I seated myself by the desk and took
account of the events that had brought me to my present position. Where
did I stand? What had I accomplished? What had I learned? How was I to
reach the end for which I struggled and bring to justice the slayer of
my murdered friend? As I passed in review the occurrences that had
crowded the few weeks since my arrival, I was compelled to confess that
I knew little more of the mysteries that surrounded me than on the
night I arrived.
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