THE OAKDALE AFFAIR

EDGAR RICE

BURROUGHS

Chapter One

The house on the hill showed lights only upon the first

floor--in the spacious reception hall, the dining room,

and those more or less mysterious purlieus thereof from

which emanate disagreeable odors and agreeable foods.

From behind a low bush across the wide lawn a pair

of eyes transferred to an alert brain these simple per-

ceptions from which the brain deduced with Sherlock-

ian accuracy and Raffleian purpose that the family of

the president of The First National Bank of--Oh, let's

call it Oakdale--was at dinner, that the servants were be-

low stairs and the second floor deserted.

The owner of the eyes had but recently descended

from the quarters of the chauffeur above the garage

which he had entered as a thief in the night and quitted

apparelled in a perfectly good suit of clothes belong-

ing to the gentlemanly chauffeur and a soft, checked

cap which was now pulled well down over a pair of

large brown eyes in which a rather strained expression

might have suggested to an alienist a certain neophy-

tism which even the stern set of well shaped lips could

not effectually belie.

Apparently this was a youth steeling himself against

a natural repugnance to the dangerous profession he had

espoused; and when, a moment later, he stepped out

into the moonlight and crossed the lawn toward the

house, the slender, graceful lines which the ill-fitting

clothes could not entirely conceal carried the conviction

of youth if not of innocence.

The brazen assurance with which the lad crossed the

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