I thrust open the door to the bedroom to see that the boy and his guards were safe, and this done I turned down the light, threw myself on the floor before the door that protected my charge, and mused over the strange events that had crowded so swiftly upon me. Subtle warnings of danger floated over my senses between sleeping and waking, and each time I dropped into a doze I awoke with a start, to see only the dimly-lighted forms of my men before me, and to hear only the sweep and whistle of the wind outside and the dash of water against the shutters. Thrice I had been aroused thus, when, on the borderland between dreams and waking, a voice reached my ear. “S-s-t! What was that?” I sprang up, wide-awake, revolver in hand. It was Lockhart who spoke. We all strained our ears to listen. There was nothing to be heard but the moan of the wind and the dash of water. “What was it?” I whispered. “I don't know.” “I heard nothing.” “It was a coo-hoo--like the call of an owl, but--” “But you thought it was a man?” Lockhart nodded. Brown and Wilson had not heard it. “Was it inside or outside?” “It was out here, I thought,” said Lockhart doubtfully, pointing to the street that ran by the side of the hotel. I opened the door to the dark bedroom in which Abrams kept watch. It swung noiselessly to my cautious touch. For a moment I could see nothing of my henchman, but the window was open. Then, in the obscurity, I thought I discovered his body lying half-way across the window-sill. I waited for him to finish his observations on the weather, but as he made no move I was struck with the fear that he had met foul play and touched him lightly. In a flash he had turned on me, and I felt the muzzle of a revolver pressing against my side. “If you wouldn't mind turning that gun the other way, it would suit me just as well,” I said. “Oh, it's you, is it?” said Abrams with a gulp. “I thought Darby Meeker and his gang was at my back, sure.” “Did you hear anything?” I asked. “Yes; there was a call out here a bit ago. And there's half a dozen men or more out there now--right at the corner.” “Are you sure?” “Yes; I was a-listening to 'em when you give me such a start.” “What were they saying?” “I couldn't hear a word.” “Give warning at the first move to get into the house. Blaze away with your gun if anybody tries to climb on to the porch.” Porter had heard nothing, but was wide awake, watching by the light of the lamp that hung at the head of the stairway. And after a caution to vigilance I returned to my chair. For half an hour I listened closely. The men were open-eyed but silent. The storm kept up its mournful murmur, but no sound that I could attribute to man came to my straining ears. Suddenly there was a cry from the hall. “Who's there?” It was Porter's voice. An instant later there was a crash of glass, an explosion seemed to shake the house, and there was a rush of many feet.