Yesterday I
might have spoken the words of passion on my lips, but now they were
sealed, and I dare not even whisper them to myself, yet it was out of
this very depth of impossibility that I came to know love in its
entirety, and realize what Viola Henley already was to me.
But I was never so much a dreamer, as a man of action, and the
necessity of active service forced me to cast aside such thoughts
almost instantly. There was work, and danger, ahead, and I welcomed
both eagerly. This was the way to forget. Aye! and the way to serve.
I felt the revolver in my pocket, took it out and made sure it was in
readiness; then advanced cautiously toward the house. The hall was
empty, and so was the front room. The latter appeared desolate and
grim in its disorder and dirt. My thought centered on that picture of
Judge Henley hanging against the further wall. Perhaps it had not
moved; the supposition that it did might have been an illusion,
produced by some flaw in the mirror opposite, or by a freak of
imagination. Yet I could never be satisfied until I learned absolutely
what was concealed behind that heavy gilded frame. There was mystery
to this house, and perhaps here I had already stumbled upon the secret.
I opened the door leading to the rear, silently, and listened.
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