What did it mean? Henry Burns thought of the robbery. Could the man have had anything to do with that? Why had he pretended to be weak and ill? Why had he come to this out-of-the-way place, pretending that he was an invalid? Surely he could have no designs upon any one on the island. There was no house there that offered inducement to a robber, if the man were one. It must be that his coming was an attempt to hide himself away—to secrete himself. But why? The description of the robber that had bound Mr. Curtis—did that tally with the appearance of this man? Broad shoulders, medium height, active, powerful,—all these agreed. But the black moustache and heavy beard. The stranger’s face was smoothly shaven. That transformation, however, could have been quickly effected. One thing was certain. It would not be well that this man, a pretended invalid, but strong, and armed with a heavy cane, that had suddenly become transformed from a cripple’s staff to a cudgel, who could but have some dark motive in thus disguising and secreting himself, should find himself watched and his secret discovered. Henry Burns crouched closer in the shadow of the chimney, and hardly dared to breathe. The evil that he had so accidentally uncovered in the man, his own helplessness compared with the other’s strength, and the dangerous situation, there upon the house-top, made him afraid. If they had been upon the ground he would have feared less. The man scanned the moonlit waters of the bay long and earnestly. His survey done, he paced a few times back and forth, swinging the cane, and then, stealing noiselessly to the doorway, disappeared down the stairs, closing the trap-door after him. Henry Burns lost little time in descending to the ground. On the way to the boys’ camp that night he made two resolves: first, that he would keep to himself, for the present, at least, the stranger’s secret; second, that, whatever that secret was, he would find it out if any clue was to be had upon that island. The second resolution, he thought, rather included the first, since, the greater the number of those who knew of the stranger’s secret, the greater the chances of his suspicions being aroused. Another thing that disturbed Henry Burns not a little was the knowledge that his excursions over the roof were now attended with greater risk than ever. It would not do to encounter the stranger there unexpectedly. What might not the man, suddenly aroused, and desperate, as Henry Burns believed him to be, do to him, if he found himself discovered? A fall from such a height must mean instant death, and who was there to suspect that he had not fallen, if he should be found next day lying upon the ground? In the future he must know whether the roof were occupied or not before he ventured upon it, and especially must he be careful when returning late at night.