CHAPTER XXII

THE SECRET OF THE WHARF I sat in the evil-smelling little room with its low, blackened ceiling, and strove to avoid making the slightest noise; but the crazy boards creaked beneath me with every movement. The moon hung low in an almost cloudless sky; for, following the spell of damp and foggy weather, a fall in the temperature had taken place, and there was a frosty snap in the air to-night. Through the open window the moonlight poured in and spilled its pure luminance upon the filthy floor; but I kept religiously …