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Updated: May 19, 2025
Andover stepped to the main doorway. As he bade The Spider good-night, he told him to call up on the telephone about ten-thirty the next morning, or to call personally if he preferred. The Spider hesitated directly beneath the arc-light at the entrance. "If I don't call up or show up you needn't say anything about this deal to him but you can tell him he's got a friend on the job."
A couple of Egyptian native police in khaki drill, brown belts, side-arms, red fezes, and carrying canes, both smoking cigarettes, swaggered up and down in front of an arc-light. There were dump-yards and gray tin offices, rusty cranes, and a gray floating quay.
On a slight rise of ground the figure of a man showed for a moment against the clear early dark of the October night; he was running at full speed. Could it be ? She braced herself to the shock he was rapidly nearing her a powerful ray from an arc-light shot across his path fell full upon his hatless head "You! Luigi!" she cried and darted forward to meet him.
After he and Lydia were left alone he did not venture a word of comment, lest he hit on the wrong thing. He went silently about, putting out the lights, and locking the windows. Lydia stood where Paul had left her, looking at her bright image in the mirror. When the last bulb went out, the room was in a flickering twilight, the street arc-light blinking uncertainly into the windows.
To him he explained rapidly what had occurred, and what he wanted. "Get up to Grant and Rancherio, Bob, as quick as the Lord will let you. Come by the back streets. There's a high mulberry hedge at the southwest corner you can get behind. This chap may have been talking for somebody else. Anyway, look the man over when he passes under the arc-light.
In the oddly intense radiance of the arc-light above, which cut sharply across the surface of forehead, cheek, and chin, and left heavy shadows like those in a roughly blocked-out carving, under brow, nose, and lower lip, the two men faced each other briefly, in silence. Then the Lieutenant-Governor voiced the other's name, hardly above a whisper. "Spencer Cavendish!"
There were the bells and the continued low blur of auto horns from Fifth Avenue, but his own street was silent and he was safe in here from all the threat of life, for there was his door and the long hall and his guardian bedroom safe, safe! The arc-light shining into his window seemed for this hour like the moon, only brighter and more beautiful than the moon.
As he retook it, she observed the straightening line of his lips. "As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see. Please walk a little behind me, so that my right arm may be free." It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted an arc-light on the corner when he had entered the building now it was extinguished.
It was one of these trees which, at the moment, attracted Barclay's attention. It lay in a direct line between himself and the arc-light on the corner, and its trunk, in some miraculous manner, had abruptly developed an elbow, and then an arm.
Oh, let's get right out and get the name of the agent, so we won't lose it again." Allison stopped the car suddenly, and turned to look. There in the full blaze of an electric arc-light, nestled among shrubbery and tall trees, with a smooth terrace in front, was a beautiful little cottage of white stone, with a pink roof, and windows everywhere.
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