The bald man stood aside and allowed them to enter; then he closed the door and said rather angrily, “You should have answered, America.” Ethan and Longsword exchanged glances and smiled. They had not seen the old man before, and looked at him curiously. Of course, the Irishman did not understand what he said, but his shining pall and his jerky way of looking over the rims of his big spectacles was sufficient for Longsword; he nodded and smiled to the old man, in great good humor. “Is the captain at home, do you know?” asked Ethan. The bald man cackled shrilly. “The captain,” said he. “So you call him that, do you?” “Of course.” “Ah! Very good. And a splendid captain he is, I think.” As he spoke the old man opened a door disclosing a very well-appointed room lighted by a number of wax candles. “Will you step in?” he asked. “The captain said that you were to wait for him here.” The two stepped wonderingly into the room. The old man followed them just beyond the doorway, and then paused. “He is within there,” spoke he, with a nod of the head toward a door that communicated, apparently, with another room. “He is engaged with the person whom you have been in search of.” “Not Siki,” exclaimed Ethan. “We are to mention no names, if you please,” warned the old man, looking over the horn rims of his glasses, and wagging his head in strong disapproval. While Ethan was yet gazing at him in astonishment, he nodded and disappeared, closing the door behind him. “What a queer looking old codger,” said the Irish trooper. “What talk had he?” Ethan translated the words of the man and Longsword opened his eyes in wonder. “Is it possible that Captain Jones told this old fellow about the document and its loss,” cried he. “Faith and it don’t seem likely, so it don’t.” “Indeed it does not,” responded Ethan. “And yet what else are we to understand by his words? He knew that you and I were out in search of some one; and he said that that some one was at present with the captain.” “It has a queer look to me,” said Longsword, scratching his head in a puzzled fashion. “And do ye know, Master Ethan, the house seems to have a strange look, too; faith it don’t seem the same at all, at all.” “Nonsense,” laughed Ethan. “Don’t let your imagination run riot, old fellow. You and I are not well enough acquainted with the house to know how it looks.” Just then there was the sound of a door opening and closing. Then they heard voices in the hall, as though some one had stepped out of the adjoining room. “Yes,” said one of the voices, “I understood that you were being sought for anxiously all the afternoon.” “By whom?” asked another voice. “By Messieurs Danvers and Wheelock. They are in my reception room waiting for me at this moment.” “Had you better not introduce me; you know that I have not met them as yet.”