It was Saturday evening. Alice sat at the piano in the drawing-room, singing songs in the twilight to the intense gratification of William Stane, who stood over her. The young barrister frequently ran down home the last day of the week, to remain over the Sunday with his family. As a matter of course, he spent a great part of the time at Eagles' Nest. The major sat back in the room, dozing; Charles was listlessly turning over a pile of music. Eagles' Nest had given an afternoon party that day; a fashionable kettledrum; but the guests had departed. "I can scarcely see," said Alice, as her lover placed a new song before her. She was in the dress she had worn in the afternoon: a black gauze trimmed with white ribbons, with silver bracelets and other silver ornaments, and looked charmingly lovely. They were in mourning for Dr. Raynor. "I'll ring for lights," said Charles. "I can't see, either." The talking had aroused the major. "We don't want lights yet," said he. "It is pleasanter as it is." "Sing the songs you know by heart," whispered William Stane. "After all, they are the best and sweetest." Presently Lamb came in of his own accord, with the wax-lights. The major, waking up again, made no objection now, but forbade the shutters to be closed. "It's a pity to shut out that moonlight," said he. Not that the moonlight could have interested him much, for in another minute he was asleep again. He had grown strangely drowsy of late. So the room was lighted up, and the moonlight streamed in at the window. Frank entered. He had been sitting upstairs with his wife, who was still very ill. In fact, this had been an unusually prolonged and critical sickness. Taking up his position at the window, Frank listened silently to the song then in progress. Charles came up to him. "How is she to-night, Frank?" "No better. If---- Look there!" he suddenly exclaimed, his voice sunk to a whisper. Some one had walked deliberately by, outside the window, gazing at what there might be to see within the room. Was it the Tiger? Frank's heart beat nineteen to the dozen. "Did you see him, Charley?" "Who was it?" whispered Charley. "I'm not quite sure; he passed so quickly. The Tiger, I conclude. Yes, I feel sure of it. I know the cut of his hat." "What consummate impudence, to be trespassing here!" They both left the room, made their way to a side-door, and looked out. No one was in sight; and yet, whosoever it was that had passed must have come that way. "He has turned back," said Charley: and as he spoke he advanced cautiously amidst the shrubs that skirted that end of the house, and looked round at the front. No. Not a soul was to be seen or heard. Had he scampered straight across the lawn and made off? It seemed like it. "I wonder what it's coming to!" cried Charley. "Could we have him warned off the estate, I wonder?" "Hardly," spoke Frank, in a dreamy tone.