issued from the farmer’s chamber.

Not a sound was heard except the mournful sighing of keen December night winds among the leafless trees.

Now and then, ’tis true, watch dogs shook their chains, and howled most dolefully and dismally, in tones unnatural, ominous and death-like.

Silently and softly did Bolton approach the house.

“He is alone,” he thought, “and too weak to leave his chamber. Now is my time, while all are away. His treasure must be mine!”

He tried the back door.

It was locked!

“It was not locked when I left,” the villain thought.

He tried it again.

[Pg 5]

[Pg 5]

The door chain rattled!

A window above was suddenly and violently slammed too, as if by the wind.

This startled Bolton.

He crawled round to the parlour window.

It was open!

He got in, and pulled off his boots.

He softly opened the door, and found himself in the large, dark entrance hall.

The slow and solemn ticking of the old hall clock seemed to strike his heart with pangs of remorse and horror.

He held his breath, and cold sweat oozed from his brow.

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