CHAPTER V 



The Case of Kate 



ON the evening of July twenty-six, 

 it must have been about nine 

 o'clock, I sat reading near an open 

 window. The day had been hot and 

 sultry, and the moon which had passed 

 its "full" had not yet shown. Lyra 

 was gleaming brightly overhead with 

 Vega flashing steadily its blue-white 

 fires. Arcturus glittered in the west. 

 Suddenly from somewhere in the 

 shadows of the lawn a sound, faint 

 and inarticulate, it seemed, yet never- 

 theless distinct to one whose ears are 

 keenly attuned to the voices of the 

 out-of-doors. I listened intently for a 

 time for a possible repetition, but the 

 almost perfect silence of the summer 

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