Chapter 14 OLD JOE VARK.

The town was going to bed; the late moon was rising, and in the magnolia gardens there seemed to waver a bright and shadowy silence-a night when every sound was afar off, a half mysterious echo-the closing of a window shutter, the subdued footfall of a thief, the indistinct notes of an old song lagging in the soft and lazy air. I walked about the c