.

THE CRY FROM THE STAIRS.
I was alone in the library when Nixon returned.

He must have seen Mrs.
Packard go up before he left, for he passed by without stopping, and the next moment I heard his foot on the stairs.
Some impulse made me step into the hall and cast a glance at his ascending figure.

I could see only his back, but there was something which I did not like in the curve of that back and the slide of his hand as it moved along the stair-rail.
His was not an open nature at the best.

I almost forgot the importance of his errand in watching the man himself.