It now turned out that, quite unintentionally, I had so posted myself as to hear every word spoken; and, I regret to say, was deep in Mr.Rogers's story--from which he considerately omitted all mention of me--when my eye caught a movement among the shadows at the far end of the verandah.
A man was stealing along it and towards me, close by the house wall.
He reached the first of the lighted windows, and peeped warily round its angle.

This room, as I have said, was empty: but while he assured himself of this, the light rested on his face, and through the branches of the mock-orange bush I saw his features distinctly.
It was Sergeant Letcher.
He wore his red uniform and white pantaloons, but had slipped off his boots and--as I saw when he rapidly passed the next two panels of light--was carrying them in his hand.

Reaching the first of the open windows, he stood for a while in the shade beside it, listening; and then, to my astonishment, turned and stole back by the way he had come.

I watched him till he disappeared in the darkness beyond the house-porch.
Meanwhile Miss Belcher had been calling to clear away the supper and set the tables for cards.
"Nonsense, Lydia!" Mr.Rogers objected.

"It's a good one-in-the-morning, and the company tired.