Now all this time, while the tragi-comedy of life wasbeing played in these three suburban villas, while on acommonplace stage love and humor and fears and lights andshadows were so swiftly succeeding each other, and whilethese three families, drifted together by fate, wereshaping each other's destinies and working out in theirown fashion the strange, intricate ends of human life,there were human eyes which watched over every stage ofthe performance, and which were keenly critical of everyactor on it. Across the road beyond the green palingsand the close-cropped lawn, behind the curtains of theircreeper-framed windows, sat the two old ladies, MissBertha and Miss Monica Williams, looking out as from aprivate box at all that was being enacted beforethem. The growing friendship of the three families, theengagement of Harold Denver with Clara Walker, theengagement of Charles Westmacott with her sister, thedangerous fascination which the widow exercised over theDoctor, the preposterous behavior of the Walker girls andthe unhappiness which they had caused their father, notone of these incidents escaped the notice of the twomaiden ladies. Bertha the younger had a smile or a sighfor the lovers, Monica the elder a frown or a shrug forthe elders. Every night they talked over what they hadseen, and their own dull, uneventful life took a warmthand a coloring from their neighbors as a blank wallreflects a beacon fire.

And now it was destined that they should experiencethe one keen sensation of their later years, the onememorable incident from which all future incidents shouldbe dated.

It was on the very night which succeeded the eventswhich have just been narrated, when suddenly into MonicaWilliam's head, as she tossed upon her sleepless bed,there shot a thought which made her sit up with a thrilland a gasp.

"Bertha," said she, plucking at the shoulder of hersister, "I have left the front window open."

"No, Monica, surely not." Bertha sat up also, andthrilled in sympathy.

"I am sure of it. You remember I had forgotten towater the pots, and then I opened the window, and Janecalled me about the jam, and I have never been in theroom since."

"Good gracious, Monica, it is a mercy that we havenot been murdered in our beds. There was a house brokeninto at Forest Hill last week. Shall we go down and shutit?"

"I dare not go down alone, dear, but if you will comewith me. Put on your slippers and dressing-gown. We donot need a candle. Now, Bertha, we will go downtogether."

Two little white patches moved vaguely through thedarkness, the stairs creaked, the door whined, and theywere at the front room window. Monica closed it gentlydown, and fastened the snib.

"What a beautiful moon!" said she, looking out. "Wecan see as clearly as if it were day. How peaceful andquiet the three houses are over yonder! It seems quitesad to see that `To Let' card upon number one. I wonderhow number two will like their going. For my part Icould better spare that dreadful woman at number threewith her short skirts and her snake. But, oh, Bertha,look! look!! look!!!" Her voice had fallen suddenly toa quivering whisper and she was pointing to theWestmacotts' house. Her sister gave a gasp of horror,and stood with a clutch at Monica's arm, staring in thesame direction.

There was a light in the front room, a slight,wavering light such as would be given by a small candleor taper. The blind was down, but the light shone dimlythrough. Outside in the garden, with his figure outlinedagainst the luminous square, there stood a man, his backto the road, his two hands upon the window ledge, and hisbody rather bent as though he were trying to peep in pastthe blind. So absolutely still and motionless was hethat in spite of the moon they might well have overlookedhim were it not for that tell-tale light behind.

"Good heaven!" gasped Bertha, "it is a burglar."

But her sister set her mouth grimly and shook herhead. "We shall see," she whispered. "It may besomething worse."

Swiftly and furtively the man stood suddenly erect,and began to push the window slowly up. Then he put oneknee upon the sash, glanced round to see that all wassafe, and climbed over into the room. As he did so hehad to push the blind aside. Then the two spectators sawwhere the light came from. Mrs. Westmacott was standing,as rigid as a statue, in the center of the room, with alighted taper in her right hand. For an instant theycaught a glimpse of her stern face and her white collar. Then the blind fell back into position, and the twofigures disappeared from their view.

"Oh, that dreadful woman!" cried Monica. "Thatdreadful, dreadful woman! She was waiting for him. Yousaw it with your own eyes, sister Bertha!"

"Hush, dear, hush and listen!" said her morecharitable companion. They pushed their own window uponce more, and watched from behind the curtains.

For a long time all was silent within the house. Thelight still stood motionless as though Mrs. Westmacottremained rigidly in the one position, while from time totime a shadow passed in front of it to show that hermidnight visitor was pacing up and down in front of her. Once they saw his outline clearly, with his handsoutstretched as if in appeal or entreaty. Then suddenlythere was a dull sound, a cry, the noise of a fall, thetaper was extinguished, and a dark figure fled in themoonlight, rushed across the garden, and vanished amidthe shrubs at the farther side.

Then only did the two old ladies understand that theyhad looked on whilst a tragedy had been enacted. "Help!"they cried, and "Help!" in their high, thin voices,timidly at first, but gathering volume as they went on,until the Wilderness rang with their shrieks. Lightsshone in all the windows opposite, chains rattled,bars were unshot, doors opened, and out rushed friends tothe rescue. Harold, with a stick; the Admiral, with hissword, his grey head and bare feet protruding from eitherend of a long brown ulster; finally, Doctor Walker, witha poker, all ran to the help of the Westmacotts. Theirdoor had been already opened, and they crowdedtumultuously into the front room.

Charles Westmacott, white to his lips, was kneelingan the floor, supporting his aunt's head upon his knee. She lay outstretched, dressed in her ordinary clothes,the extinguished taper still grasped in her hand, no markor wound upon her--pale, placid, and senseless.

"Thank God you are come, Doctor," said Charles,looking up. "Do tell me how she is, and what I shoulddo."

Doctor Walker kneeled beside her, and passed his lefthand over her head, while he grasped her pulse with theright.

"She has had a terrible blow," said he. "It musthave been with some blunt weapon. Here is the placebehind the ear. But she is a woman of extraordinaryphysical powers. Her pulse is full and slow. There isno stertor. It is my belief that she is merely stunned,and that she is in no danger at all."

"Thank God for that!"

"We must get her to bed. We shall carry herupstairs, and then I shall send my girls in to her. Butwho has done this?"

"Some robber" said Charles. "You see that the windowis open. She must have heard him and come down, for shewas always perfectly fearless. I wish to goodness shehad called me.

"But she was dressed."

"Sometimes she sits up very late."

"I did sit up very late," said a voice. She hadopened her eyes, and was blinking at them in thelamplight. "A villain came in through the window andstruck me with a life-preserver. You can tell the policeso when they come. Also that it was a little fat man. Now, Charles, give me your arm and I shall go upstairs."

But her spirit was greater than her strength, for, asshe staggered to her feet, her head swam round, and shewould have fallen again had her nephew not thrown hisarms round her. They carried her upstairs among them andlaid her upon the bed, where the Doctor watched besideher, while Charles went off to the police-station, andthe Denvers mounted guard over the frightened maids.