At the end of five minutes of argument there came the heavy
thump-thump of men struggling above me. It recalled my college
days, when we used to hear the fellows in the room above us throwing
each other about in an excess of youth and high spirits. But this
seemed more grim, more determined, and I did not like it.--However,
I reflected that it was none of my business. I tried to think about
my letter.
The struggle ended with a particularly heavy thud that shook our
ancient house to its foundations. I sat listening, somehow very
much depressed. There was no sound. It was not entirely dark
outside--the long twilight--and the frugal Walters had not lighted
the hall lamps. Somebody was coming down the stairs very quietly
--but their creaking betrayed him. I waited for him to pass
through the shaft of light that poured from the door open at my back.
At that moment Fate intervened in the shape of a breeze through my
windows, the door banged shut, and a heavy man rushed by me in the
darkness and ran down the stairs. I knew he was heavy, because the
passageway was narrow and he had to push me aside to get by. I
heard him swear beneath his breath.
Quickly I went to a hall window at the far end that looked out on
the street. But the front door did not open; no one came out.
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