The Burglar and the Blizzard: A Christmas Story | Page 5

he heard a clock strike.
The sound was not perhaps alarming in itself, yet it sounded ominously
in Geoffrey's ears. He recognised, or thought he recognised, the bell. It
was that of an old French clock he had bought, and had never had put
in order. He had never been able to make it go, but once touching it
inadvertently he had aroused in it a breath of life so that it had struck
one,--this same sweet piercing note. Who, he wondered, was touching
it now?

Geoffrey was one of those who act best and naturally without delay.
Now he hesitated not at all. He had the keys of the house in his pocket,
and he moved quickly toward a side door which he remembered swung
silently on its hinges. It was not so much that he believed that there was
any one in the house--perhaps to the most apprehensive a burglar
comes as a surprise--but he felt he had too good grounds for suspicion
to fail to investigate.
He unlocked the door without a sound. As he stepped within, doubt was
put an end to by the patch of white light that, streaming out of the
library door, fell across the passageway before him. He stooped down
and took off his boots, and then cautiously approached the open door
and looked in, knowing that darkness and preparation were in his
favour.
His caution was unnecessary, for his entrance had not been heard. The
Hillsborough theory of the femininity of the burglar instantly fell to the
ground. A man of medium size was standing before one of the
bookcases with his elbow resting near the clock; he was holding a
volume in his hands with the careful ease of a book fancier. The man's
back was turned so that a sandy head and a strongly built figure were
all Geoffrey could make out. Had it not been for a glimpse of a mask
on his face, he might have been a student at work.
So intent did he appear that Geoffrey could not resist the temptation to
make his entrance dramatic. Creeping almost to the other's elbow,
revolver in hand, he said gently:
"Fond of reading?"
The man, naturally startled, made a surprisingly quick movement
toward his own revolver, and had it knocked out of his hand with a
benumbing blow. Geoffrey secured the weapon, and seeing the man's
retreat, may be excused for supposing the struggle over.
He underestimated his adversary's resources, for the burglar, retreating
with a look of surrender, came within reach of the electric light, turned
it off, and fled in the total darkness that followed. Geoffrey sprang to
the switch, but the few seconds that his fingers were fumbling for it
told against him. When he turned it on the room was empty. The door
by which the thief had gone opened on the main hall and not on the
passageway, so that Geoffrey still had time to secure the outer door.
Next he lit the chandelier in the hall, but its illumination told nothing. It

was Geoffrey's own sharp ears that told him of light footsteps beyond
the turn of the stairs. Here Holland recognised at once that the burglar
had a great advantage. The flight of stairs from the hall reached the
upper story at a point very near where the back stairs came up, while
they descended to widely different places in the lower story, so that the
burglar, looking down, could choose his flight of stairs as soon as he
saw his pursuer committed to the other, and thus reach the lower hall
with several seconds to spare. Fortunately, however, Geoffrey
remembered that there was a door at the foot of the back stairs. With
incredible quickness he turned off the light again, threw his boots
upstairs in the ingenious hope that the sound would give the effect of
his own ascent, dashed round and locked the door at the foot of the
stairs and then at the top of his speed ran up the front stairs and down
the back. The result was somewhat as he expected. The burglar had
reached the door at the foot of the stairs, and finding it locked was half
way up again when he and Geoffrey met. The impetus of Geoffrey's
descent carried the man backward. They both landed against the locked
door with a force that burst it open. Geoffrey, on top and armed, had
little difficulty in securing his bruised foe, and marching him back to
the library where he now took the precaution of locking all the doors.
Geoffrey, who had felt himself tingling with excitement and the natural
love of the chase, now had time to wonder what he was going to do
with his capture. He thought of the darkness, the