He approached the light slowly, pausing every few steps
to peer guardedly about him, and when they had come very near to the
window he pulled his companion behind a thick clump of shrubbery.
Nathaniel could hear the old man's subdued chuckle and he bent his head
to catch what he was about to whisper to him.
"You must make no noise, Nat," he warned. "This is the castle of our
priest, king and prophet--James Jesse Strang. I am going to show you
what you have never seen before and what you will never look upon again.
I have sworn upon the Two Books and I will keep my oath. And then--you
will answer the question I asked you back there."
He crept out into the darkness of the trees and Nathaniel followed, his
heart throbbing with excitement, every sense alert, and one hand resting
on the butt of his pistol. He felt that he was nearing the climax of his
day's adventure and now, in the last moment of it, his old caution
reasserted itself. He knew that he was among a dangerous people, men
who, according to the laws of his country, were criminals in more ways
than one. He had seen much of their work along the coasts and he had
heard of more of it. He knew that this gloom and sullen quiet of St.
James hid cut-throats and pirates and thieves. Still there was nothing
ahead to alarm him. The old man dodged the gleams of the lighted window
and slunk around to the end of the great house. Here, several feet above
his head, was another window, small and veiled with the foliage wall.
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