Summary

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — IV. A Thief in the Night (1910)

The next instant I was flung heavily to the porch floor. I am not a small man by any means, but under the fury of that onslaught I was a child. It was a porch chair, I think, that knocked me senseless; I know I folded up like a jack-knife, and that was all I did know for a few minutes.
When I came to I was lying where I had fallen, and a candle was burning beside me on the porch floor. It took me a minute to remember, and another minute to realize that I was looking into the barrel of a revolver.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — IV. A Thief in the Night (1910)

He snatched the candle from me and, holding it up, searched my face. "Then—good God—where is my traveling-bag?"
"I have something in my head where you hit me," I said. "Perhaps that is it."
But my sarcasm was lost on him.
"I am Harry Wardrop," he said, "and I have been robbed, Mr. Knox. I was trying to get in the house without waking the family, and when I came back here to the front door, where I had left my valise, it was gone. I thought you were the thief when you came out, and—we've lost all this time. Somebody has followed me and robbed me!"
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — IV. A Thief in the Night (1910)

She looked from my swollen head to the open bag, and then to Wardrop's pale face. Then I think, woman-like, she remembered the two great braids that hung over her shoulders and the dressing-gown she wore, for she backed precipitately into the hall.
"I'm glad that's all it is," she called back cautiously, and we could hear her running up the stairs.
"You'd better go to bed," Wardrop said, picking up his hat. "I'm going down to the station. There's no train out of here between midnight and a flag train at four-thirty a.m.
Source: Wikisource

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