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diff --git a/old/circs10.txt b/old/circs10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 51ba21b..0000000 --- a/old/circs10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8898 +0,0 @@ -*****The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Circular Staircase***** -#3 in our series by Mary Roberts Rinehart - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* - -Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and -further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE -By -MARY ROBERTS RINEHART - - - - -THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE - - - -CHAPTER I - -I TAKE A COUNTRY HOUSE: - -This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, -deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house -for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of -those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective -agencies happy and prosperous. For twenty years I had been -perfectly comfortable; for twenty years I had had the window- -boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put -up and the furniture covered with brown linen; for as many -summers I had said good-by to my friends, and, after watching -their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in -town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water -supply does not depend on a tank on the roof. - -And then--the madness seized me. When I look back over the -months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As -it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I -have turned very gray--Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, -by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my -hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. I hate to be -reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off. - -"No," I said sharply, "I'm not going to use bluing at my time of -life, or starch, either." - -Liddy's nerves are gone, she says, since that awful summer, but -she has enough left, goodness knows! And when she begins to go -around with a lump in her throat, all I have to do is to threaten -to return to Sunnyside, and she is frightened into a semblance of -cheerfulness,--from which you may judge that the summer there was -anything but a success. - -The newspaper accounts have been so garbled and incomplete--one -of them mentioned me but once, and then only as the tenant at the -time the thing happened--that I feel it my due to tell what I -know. Mr. Jamieson, the detective, said himself he could never -have done without me, although he gave me little enough credit, -in print. - -I shall have to go back several years--thirteen, to be exact--to -start my story. At that time my brother died, leaving me his two -children. Halsey was eleven then, and Gertrude was seven. All -the responsibilities of maternity were thrust upon me suddenly; -to perfect the profession of motherhood requires precisely as -many years as the child has lived, like the man who started to -carry the calf and ended by walking along with the bull on his -shoulders. However, I did the best I could. When Gertrude got -past the hair-ribbon age, and Halsey asked for a scarf-pin and -put on long trousers--and a wonderful help that was to the -darning.--I sent them away to good schools. After that, my -responsibility was chiefly postal, with three months every summer -in which to replenish their wardrobes, look over their lists of -acquaintances, and generally to take my foster-motherhood out of -its nine months' retirement in camphor. - -I missed the summers with them when, somewhat later, at boarding- -school and college, the children spent much of their vacations -with friends. Gradually I found that my name signed to a check -was even more welcome than when signed to a letter, though I -wrote them at stated intervals. But when Halsey had finished -his electrical course and Gertrude her boarding-school, and both -came home to stay, things were suddenly changed. The winter -Gertrude came out was nothing but a succession of sitting up late -at night to bring her home from things, taking her to the -dressmakers between naps the next day, and discouraging -ineligible youths with either more money than brains, or more -brains than money. Also, I acquired a great many things: to say -lingerie for under-garments, "frocks" and "gowns" instead of -dresses, and that beardless sophomores are not college boys, but -college men. Halsey required less personal supervision, and as -they both got their mother's fortune that winter, my -responsibility became purely moral. Halsey bought a car, of -course, and I learned how to tie over my bonnet a gray baize -veil, and, after a time, never to stop to look at the dogs one -has run down. People are apt to be so unpleasant about their -dogs. - -The additions to my education made me a properly equipped maiden -aunt, and by spring I was quite tractable. So when Halsey -suggested camping in the Adirondacks and Gertrude wanted Bar -Harbor, we compromised on a good country house with links near, -within motor distance of town and telephone distance of the -doctor. That was how we went to Sunnyside. - -We went out to inspect the property, and it seemed to deserve its -name. Its cheerful appearance gave no indication whatever of -anything out of the ordinary. Only one thing seemed unusual to -me: the housekeeper, who had been left in charge, had moved from -the house to the gardener's lodge, a few days before. As the -lodge was far enough away from the house, it seemed to me that -either fire or thieves could complete their work of destruction -undisturbed. The property was an extensive one: the house on the -top of a hill, which sloped away in great stretches of green lawn -and clipped hedges, to the road; and across the valley, perhaps a -couple of miles away, was the Greenwood Club House. Gertrude and -Halsey were infatuated. - -"Why, it's everything you want," Halsey said "View, air, good -water and good roads. As for the house, it's big enough for a -hospital, if it has a Queen Anne front and a Mary Anne back," -which was ridiculous: it was pure Elizabethan. - -Of course we took the place; it was not my idea of comfort, being -much too large and sufficiently isolated to make the servant -question serious. But I give myself credit for this: whatever -has happened since, I never blamed Halsey and Gertrude for taking -me there. And another thing: if the series of catastrophes there -did nothing else, it taught me one thing--that somehow, -somewhere, from perhaps a half-civilized ancestor who wore a -sheepskin garment and trailed his food or his prey, I have in me -the instinct of the chase. Were I a man I should be a trapper of -criminals, trailing them as relentlessly as no doubt my sheepskin -ancestor did his wild boar. But being an unmarried woman, with -the handicap of my sex, my first acquaintance with crime will -probably be my last. Indeed, it came near enough to being my -last acquaintance with anything. - -The property was owned by Paul Armstrong, the president of the -Traders' Bank, who at the time we took the house was in the west -with his wife and daughter, and a Doctor Walker, the Armstrong -family physician. Halsey knew Louise Armstrong,--had been rather -attentive to her the winter before, but as Halsey was always -attentive to somebody, I had not thought of it seriously, -although she was a charming girl. I knew of Mr. Armstrong only -through his connection with the bank, where the children's money -was largely invested, and through an ugly story about the son, -Arnold Armstrong, who was reported to have forged his father's -name, for a considerable amount, to some bank paper. However, -the story had had no interest for me. - -I cleared Halsey and Gertrude away to a house party, and moved -out to Sunnyside the first of May. The roads were bad, but the -trees were in leaf, and there were still tulips in the borders -around the house. The arbutus was fragrant in the woods under -the dead leaves, and on the way from the station, a short mile, -while the car stuck in the mud, I found a bank showered with tiny -forget-me-nots. The birds--don't ask me what kind; they all look -alike to me, unless they have a hall mark of some bright color-- -the birds were chirping in the hedges, and everything breathed of -peace. Liddy, who was born and bred on a brick pavement, got a -little bit down-spirited when the crickets began to chirp, or -scrape their legs together, or whatever it is they do, at -twilight. - -The first night passed quietly enough. I have always been -grateful for that one night's peace; it shows what the country -might be, under favorable circumstances. Never after that night -did I put my head on my pillow with any assurance how long it -would be there; or on my shoulders, for that matter. - -On the following morning Liddy and Mrs. Ralston, my own -housekeeper, had a difference of opinion, and Mrs. Ralston left -on the eleven train. Just after luncheon, Burke, the butler, was -taken unexpectedly with a pain in his right side, much worse when -I was within hearing distance, and by afternoon he was started -cityward. That night the cook's sister had a baby--the cook, -seeing indecision in my face, made it twins on second thought-- -and, to be short, by noon the next day the household staff was -down to Liddy and myself. And this in a house with twenty-two -rooms and five baths! - -Liddy wanted to go back to the city at once, but the milk-boy -said that Thomas Johnson, the Armstrongs' colored butler, was -working as a waiter at the Greenwood Club, and might come back. -I have the usual scruples about coercing people's servants away, -but few of us have any conscience regarding institutions or -corporations--witness the way we beat railroads and street-car -companies when we can--so I called up the club, and about eight -o'clock Thomas Johnson came to see me. Poor Thomas! - -Well, it ended by my engaging Thomas on the spot, at outrageous -wages, and with permission to sleep in the gardener's lodge, -empty since the house was rented. The old man--he was white- -haired and a little stooped, but with an immense idea of his -personal dignity--gave me his reasons hesitatingly. - -"I ain't sayin' nothin', Mis' Innes," he said, with his hand on -the door-knob, "but there's been goin's-on here this las' few -months as ain't natchal. 'Tain't one thing an' 'tain't another-- -it's jest a door squealin' here, an' a winder closin' there, but -when doors an' winders gets to cuttin' up capers and there's -nobody nigh 'em, it's time Thomas Johnson sleeps somewhar's -else." - -Liddy, who seemed to be never more than ten feet away from me -that night, and was afraid of her shadow in that great barn of a -place, screamed a little, and turned a yellow-green. But I am -not easily alarmed. - -It was entirely in vain; I represented to Thomas that we were -alone, and that he would have to stay in the house that night. -He was politely firm, but he would come over early the next -morning, and if I gave him a key, he would come in time to get -some sort of breakfast. I stood on the huge veranda and -watched him shuffle along down the shadowy drive, with mingled -feelings--irritation at his cowardice and thankfulness at getting -him at all. I am not ashamed to say that I double-locked the -hall door when I went in. - -"You can lock up the rest of the house and go to bed, Liddy," I -said severely. "You give me the creeps standing there. A woman -of your age ought to have better sense." It usually braces Liddy -to mention her age: she owns to forty--which is absurd. Her -mother cooked for my grandfather, and Liddy must be at least as -old as I. But that night she refused to brace. - -"You're not going to ask me to lock up, Miss Rachel!" she -quavered. "Why, there's a dozen French windows in the drawing- -room and the billiard-room wing, and every one opens on a porch. -And Mary Anne said that last night there was a man standing by -the stable when she locked the kitchen door." - -"Mary Anne was a fool," I said sternly. "If there had been a man -there, she would have had him in the kitchen and been feeding him -what was left from dinner, inside of an hour, from force of -habit. Now don't be ridiculous. Lock up the house and go to -bed. I am going to read." - -But Liddy set her lips tight and stood still. - -"I'm not going to bed," she said. "I am going to pack up, and -to-morrow I am going to leave." - -"You'll do nothing of the sort," I snapped. Liddy and I often -desire to part company, but never at the same time. "If you are -afraid, I will go with you, but for goodness' sake don't try to -hide behind me." - -The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive scale. -Wherever possible, on the first floor, the architect had done -away with partitions, using arches and columns instead. The -effect was cool and spacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and I -went from one window to another, our voices echoed back at us -uncomfortably. There was plenty of light--the electric plant -down in the village supplied us--but there were long vistas of -polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us from unexpected -corners, until I felt some of Liddy's foolishness communicate -itself to me. - -The house was very long, a rectangle in general form, with the -main entrance in the center of the long side. The brick-paved -entry opened into a short hall to the right of which, separated -only by a row of pillars, was a huge living-room. Beyond that -was the drawing-room, and in the end, the billiard-room. Off -the billiard-room, in the extreme right wing, was a den, or -card-room, with a small hall opening on the east veranda, and -from there went up a narrow circular staircase. Halsey had -pointed it out with delight. - -"Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The -architect that put up this joint was wise to a few things. -Arnold Armstrong and his friends could sit here and play cards -all night and stumble up to bed in the early morning, without -having the family send in a police call." - -Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the -lights. I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the -veranda, and examined the windows. Everything was secure, and -Liddy, a little less nervous now, had just pointed out to me the -disgracefully dusty condition of the hard-wood floor, when -suddenly the lights went out. We waited a moment; I think Liddy -was stunned with fright, or she would have screamed. And then I -clutched her by the arm and pointed to one of the windows opening -on the porch. The sudden change threw the window into relief, an -oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figure standing close, -peering in. As I looked it darted across the veranda and out of -sight in the darkness. - - - -CHAPTER II - -A LINK CUFF-BUTTON - -Liddy's knees seemed to give away under her. Without a sound she -sank down, leaving me staring at the window in petrified -amazement. Liddy began to moan under her breath, and in my -excitement I reached down and shook her. - -"Stop it," I whispered. "It's only a woman--maybe a maid of the -Armstrongs'. Get up and help me find the door." She groaned -again. "Very well," I said, "then I'll have to leave you here. -I'm going." - -She moved at that, and, holding to my sleeve, we felt our way, -with numerous collisions, to the billiard-room, and from there to -the drawing-room. The lights came on then, and, with the long -French windows unshuttered, I had a creepy feeling that each one -sheltered a peering face. In fact, in the light of what happened -afterward, I am pretty certain we were under surveillance during -the entire ghostly evening. We hurried over the rest of -the locking-up and got upstairs as quickly as we could. I left -the lights all on, and our footsteps echoed cavernously. Liddy -had a stiff neck the next morning, from looking back over her -shoulder, and she refused to go to bed. - -"Let me stay in your dressing-room, Miss Rachel," she begged. -"If you don't, I'll sit in the hall outside the door. I'm not -going to be murdered with my eyes shut." - -"If you're going to be murdered," I retorted, "it won't make any -difference whether they are shut or open. But you may stay in -the dressing-room, if you will lie on the couch: when you sleep -in a chair you snore." - -She was too far gone to be indignant, but after a while she came -to the door and looked in to where I was composing myself for -sleep with Drummond's Spiritual Life. - -"That wasn't a woman, Miss Rachel," she said, with her shoes in -her hand. "It was a man in a long coat." - -"What woman was a man?" I discouraged her without looking up, -and she went back to the couch. - -It was eleven o'clock when I finally prepared for bed. In -spite of my assumption of indifference, I locked the door into -the hall, and finding the transom did not catch, I put a chair -cautiously before the door--it was not necessary to rouse Liddy-- -and climbing up put on the ledge of the transom a small dressing- -mirror, so that any movement of the frame would send it crashing -down. Then, secure in my precautions, I went to bed. - -I did not go to sleep at once. Liddy disturbed me just as I was -growing drowsy, by coming in and peering under the bed. She was -afraid to speak, however, because of her previous snubbing, and -went back, stopping in the doorway to sigh dismally. - -Somewhere down-stairs a clock with a chime sang away the hours-- -eleven-thirty, forty-five, twelve. And then the lights went out -to stay. The Casanova Electric Company shuts up shop and goes -home to bed at midnight: when one has a party, I believe it is -customary to fee the company, which will drink hot coffee and -keep awake a couple of hours longer. But the lights were gone -for good that night. Liddy had gone to sleep, as I knew she -would. She was a very unreliable person: always awake and ready -to talk when she wasn't wanted and dozing off to sleep when -she was. I called her once or twice, the only result being -an explosive snore that threatened her very windpipe--then I got -up and lighted a bedroom candle. - -My bedroom and dressing room were above the big living-room on -the first floor. On the second floor a long corridor ran the -length of the house, with rooms opening from both sides. In the -wings were small corridors crossing the main one--the plan was -simplicity itself. And just as I got back into bed, I heard a -sound from the east wing, apparently, that made me stop, frozen, -with one bedroom slipper half off, and listen. It was a rattling -metallic sound, and it reverberated along the empty halls like -the crash of doom. It was for all the world as if something -heavy, perhaps a piece of steel, had rolled clattering and -jangling down the hard-wood stairs leading to the card-room. - -In the silence that followed Liddy stirred and snored again. I -was exasperated: first she kept me awake by silly alarms, then -when she was needed she slept like Joe Jefferson, or Rip,--they -are always the same to me. I went in and aroused her, and I give -her credit for being wide awake the minute I spoke. - -"Get up," I said, "if you don't want to be murdered in your bed." - -"Where? How?" she yelled vociferously, and jumped up. - -"There's somebody in the house," I said. "Get up. We'll have to -get to the telephone." - -"Not out in the hall!" she gasped; "Oh, Miss Rachel, not out in -the hall!" trying to hold me back. But I am a large woman and -Liddy is small. We got to the door, somehow, and Liddy held a -brass andiron, which it was all she could do to lift, let alone -brain anybody with. I listened, and, hearing nothing, opened the -door a little and peered into the hall. It was a black void, -full of terrible suggestion, and my candle only emphasized the -gloom. Liddy squealed and drew me back again, and as the door -slammed, the mirror I had put on the transom came down and hit -her on the head. That completed our demoralization. It was some -time before I could persuade her she had not been attacked from -behind by a burglar, and when she found the mirror smashed on the -floor she wasn't much better. - -"There's going to be a death!" she wailed. "Oh, Miss Rachel, -there's going to be a death!" - -"There will be," I said grimly, "if you don't keep quiet, Liddy -Allen." - -And so we sat there until morning, wondering if the candle would -last until dawn, and arranging what trains we could take back to -town. If we had only stuck to that decision and gone back before -it was too late! - -The sun came finally, and from my window I watched the trees -along the drive take shadowy form, gradually lose their ghostlike -appearance, become gray and then green. The Greenwood Club -showed itself a dab of white against the hill across the valley, -and an early robin or two hopped around in the dew. Not until -the milk-boy and the sun came, about the same time, did I dare to -open the door into the hall and look around. Everything was as -we had left it. Trunks were heaped here and there, ready for the -trunk-room, and through an end window of stained glass came a -streak of red and yellow daylight that was eminently cheerful. -The milk-boy was pounding somewhere below, and the day had begun. - -Thomas Johnson came ambling up the drive about half-past six, and -we could hear him clattering around on the lower floor, opening -shutters. I had to take Liddy to her room up-stairs, -however,--she was quite sure she would find something uncanny. -In fact, when she did not, having now the courage of daylight, -she was actually disappointed. - -Well, we did not go back to town that day. - -The discovery of a small picture fallen from the wall of the -drawing-room was quite sufficient to satisfy Liddy that the alarm -had been a false one, but I was anything but convinced. Allowing -for my nerves and the fact that small noises magnify themselves -at night, there was still no possibility that the picture had -made the series of sounds I heard. To prove it, however, I -dropped it again. It fell with a single muffled crash of its -wooden frame, and incidentally ruined itself beyond repair. I -justified myself by reflecting that if the Armstrongs chose to -leave pictures in unsafe positions, and to rent a house with a -family ghost, the destruction of property was their -responsibility, not mine. - -I warned Liddy not to mention what had happened to anybody, and -telephoned to town for servants. Then after a breakfast which -did more credit to Thomas' heart than his head, I went on a short -tour of investigation. The sounds had come from the east -wing, and not without some qualms I began there. At first I -found nothing. Since then I have developed my powers of -observation, but at that time I was a novice. The small card- -room seemed undisturbed. I looked for footprints, which is, I -believe, the conventional thing to do, although my experience has -been that as clues both footprints and thumb-marks are more -useful in fiction than in fact. But the stairs in that wing -offered something. - -At the top of the flight had been placed a tall wicker hamper, -packed, with linen that had come from town. It stood at the edge -of the top step, almost barring passage, and on the step below it -was a long fresh scratch. For three steps the scratch was -repeated, gradually diminishing, as if some object had fallen, -striking each one. Then for four steps nothing. On the fifth -step below was a round dent in the hard wood. That was all, and -it seemed little enough, except that I was positive the marks had -not been there the day before. - -It bore out my theory of the sound, which had been for all the -world like the bumping of a metallic object down a flight of -steps. The four steps had been skipped. I reasoned that an iron -bar, for instance, would do something of the sort,--strike -two or three steps, end down, then turn over, jumping a few -stairs, and landing with a thud. - -Iron bars, however, do not fall down-stairs in the middle of the -night alone. Coupled with the figure on the veranda the agency -by which it climbed might be assumed. But--and here was the -thing that puzzled me most--the doors were all fastened that -morning, the windows unmolested, and the particular door from -the card-room to the veranda had a combination lock of which I -held the key, and which had not been tampered with. - -I fixed on an attempt at burglary, as the most natural -explanation--an attempt frustrated by the falling of the object, -whatever it was, that had roused me. Two things I could not -understand: how the intruder had escaped with everything locked, -and why he had left the small silver, which, in the absence of a -butler, had remained down-stairs over night. - -Under pretext of learning more about the place, Thomas Johnson -led me through the house and the cellars, without result. -Everything was in good order and repair; money had been spent -lavishly on construction and plumbing. The house was full of -conveniences, and I had no reason to repent my bargain, save -the fact that, in the nature of things, night must come again. -And other nights must follow--and we were a long way from a -police-station. - -In the afternoon a hack came up from Casanova, with a fresh relay -of servants. The driver took them with a flourish to the -servants' entrance, and drove around to the front of the house, -where I was awaiting him. - -"Two dollars," he said in reply to my question. "I don't charge -full rates, because, bringin' 'em up all summer as I do, it pays -to make a special price. When they got off the train, I sez, sez -I, `There's another bunch for Sunnyside, cook, parlor maid and -all.' Yes'm--six summers, and a new lot never less than once a -month. They won't stand for the country and the lonesomeness, I -reckon." - -But with the presence of the "bunch" of servants my courage -revived, and late in the afternoon came a message from Gertrude -that she and Halsey would arrive that night at about eleven -o'clock, coming in the car from Richfield. Things were looking -up; and when Beulah, my cat, a most intelligent animal, found -some early catnip on a bank near the house and rolled in it -in a feline ecstasy, I decided that getting back to nature was -the thing to do. - -While I was dressing for dinner, Liddy rapped at the door. She -was hardly herself yet, but privately I think she was worrying -about the broken mirror and its augury, more than anything else. -When she came in she was holding something in her hand, and she -laid it on the dressing-table carefully. - -"I found it in the linen hamper," she said. "It must be Mr. -Halsey's, but it seems queer how it got there." - -It was the half of a link cuff-button of unique design, and I -looked at it carefully. - -"Where was it? In the bottom of the hamper?" I asked. - -"On the very top," she replied. "It's a mercy it didn't fall out -on the way." - -When Liddy had gone I examined the fragment attentively. I had -never seen it before, and I was certain it was not Halsey's. It -was of Italian workmanship, and consisted of a mother-of-pearl -foundation, encrusted with tiny seed-pearls, strung on horsehair -to hold them. In the center was a small ruby. The trinket was -odd enough, but not intrinsically of great value. Its -interest for me lay in this: Liddy had found it lying in the top -of the hamper which had blocked the east-wing stairs. - -That afternoon the Armstrongs' housekeeper, a youngish good- -looking woman, applied for Mrs. Ralston's place, and I was glad -enough to take her. She looked as though she might be equal to a -dozen of Liddy, with her snapping black eyes and heavy jaw. Her -name was Anne Watson, and I dined that evening for the first time -in three days. - - - -CHAPTER III - -MR. JOHN BAILEY APPEARS - -I had dinner served in the breakfast-room. Somehow the huge -dining-room depressed me, and Thomas, cheerful enough all day, -allowed his spirits to go down with the sun. He had a habit of -watching the corners of the room, left shadowy by the candles on -the table, and altogether it was not a festive meal. - -Dinner over I went into the living-room. I had three hours -before the children could possibly arrive, and I got out my -knitting. I had brought along two dozen pairs of slipper soles -in assorted sizes--I always send knitted slippers to the Old -Ladies' Home at Christmas--and now I sorted over the wools with a -grim determination not to think about the night before. But my -mind was not on my work: at the end of a half-hour I found I had -put a row of blue scallops on Eliza Klinefelter's lavender -slippers, and I put them away. - -I got out the cuff-link and went with it to the pantry. Thomas -was wiping silver and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. I -sniffed and looked around, but there was no pipe to be seen. - -"Thomas," I said, "you have been smoking." - -"No, ma'm." He was injured innocence itself. "It's on my coat, -ma'm. Over at the club the gentlemen--" - -But Thomas did not finish. The pantry was suddenly filled with -the odor of singeing cloth. Thomas gave a clutch at his coat, -whirled to the sink, filled a tumbler with water and poured it -into his right pocket with the celerity of practice. - -"Thomas," I said, when he was sheepishly mopping the floor, -"smoking is a filthy and injurious habit. If you must smoke, you -must; but don't stick a lighted pipe in your pocket again. Your -skin's your own: you can blister it if you like. But this house -is not mine, and I don't want a conflagration. Did you ever see -this cuff-link before?" - -No, he never had, he said, but he looked at it oddly. - -"I picked it up in the hall," I added indifferently. The old -man's eyes were shrewd under his bushy eyebrows. - -"There's strange goin's-on here, Mis' Innes," he said, shaking -his head. "Somethin's goin' to happen, sure. You ain't took -notice that the big clock in the hall is stopped, I reckon?" - -"Nonsense," I said. "Clocks have to stop, don't they, if they're -not wound?" - -"It's wound up, all right, and it stopped at three o'clock last -night," he answered solemnly. "More'n that, that there clock -ain't stopped for fifteen years, not since Mr. Armstrong's first -wife died. And that ain't all,--no MA'M. Last three nights I -slep' in this place, after the electrics went out I had a token. -My oil lamp was full of oil, but it kep' goin' out, do what I -would. Minute I shet my eyes, out that lamp'd go. There ain't -no surer token of death. The Bible sez, LET YER LIGHT SHINE! -When a hand you can't see puts yer light out, it means death, -sure." - -The old man's voice was full of conviction. In spite of myself I -had a chilly sensation in the small of my back, and I left him -mumbling over his dishes. Later on I heard a crash from the -pantry, and Liddy reported that Beulah, who is coal black, had -darted in front of Thomas just as he picked up a tray of dishes; -that the bad omen had been too much for him, and he had -dropped the tray. - -The chug of the automobile as it climbed the hill was the most -welcome sound I had heard for a long time, and with Gertrude and -Halsey actually before me, my troubles seemed over for good. -Gertrude stood smiling in the hall, with her hat quite over one -ear, and her hair in every direction under her pink veil. -Gertrude is a very pretty girl, no matter how her hat is, and I -was not surprised when Halsey presented a good-looking young man, -who bowed at me and looked at Trude--that is the ridiculous -nickname Gertrude brought from school. - -"I have brought a guest, Aunt Ray," Halsey said. "I want you to -adopt him into your affections and your Saturday-to-Monday list. -Let me present John Bailey, only you must call him Jack. In -twelve hours he'll be calling you `Aunt': I know him." - -We shook hands, and I got a chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was -a tall fellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I -remember wondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when -he smiled his teeth were above the average. One never knows why -certain men cling to a messy upper lip that must get into -things, any more than one understands some women building up -their hair on wire atrocities. Otherwise, he was very good to -look at, stalwart and tanned, with the direct gaze that I like. -I am particular about Mr. Bailey, because he was a prominent -figure in what happened later. - -Gertrude was tired with the trip and went up to bed very soon. I -made up my mind to tell them nothing; until the next day, and -then to make as light of our excitement as possible. After all, -what had I to tell? An inquisitive face peering in at a window; -a crash in the night; a scratch or two on the stairs, and half a -cuff-button! As for Thomas and his forebodings, it was always my -belief that a negro is one part thief, one part pigment, and the -rest superstition. - -It was Saturday night. The two men went to the billiard-room, -and I could hear them talking as I went up-stairs. It seemed -that Halsey had stopped at the Greenwood Club for gasolene and -found Jack Bailey there, with the Sunday golf crowd. Mr. Bailey -had not been hard to persuade--probably Gertrude knew why--and -they had carried him off triumphantly. I roused Liddy to get -them something to eat--Thomas was beyond reach in the lodge--and -paid no attention to her evident terror of the kitchen -regions. Then I went to bed. The men were still in the -billiard-room when I finally dozed off, and the last thing I -remember was the howl of a dog in front of the house. It wailed -a crescendo of woe that trailed off hopefully, only to break out -afresh from a new point of the compass. - -At three o'clock in the morning I was roused by a revolver shot. -The sound seemed to come from just outside my door. For a moment -I could not move. Then--I heard Gertrude stirring in her room, -and the next moment she had thrown open the connecting door. - -"O Aunt Ray! Aunt Ray!" she cried hysterically. "Some one has -been killed, killed!" - -"Thieves," I said shortly. "Thank goodness, there are some men -in the house to-night." I was getting into my slippers and a -bath-robe, and Gertrude with shaking hands was lighting a lamp. -Then we opened the door into the hall, where, crowded on the -upper landing of the stairs, the maids, white-faced and -trembling, were peering down, headed by Liddy. I was greeted by -a series of low screams and questions, and I tried to quiet them. - -Gertrude had dropped on a chair and sat there limp and shivering. - -I went at once across the hall to Halsey's room and knocked; then -I pushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been -occupied! - -"He must be in Mr. Bailey's room," I said excitedly, and followed -by Liddy, we went there. Like Halsey's, it had not been -occupied! Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against -the door for support. - -"They have been killed!" she gasped. Then she caught me by the -arm and dragged me toward the stairs. "They may only be hurt, -and we must find them," she said, her eyes dilated with -excitement. - -I don't remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember -expecting every moment to be killed. The cook was at the -telephone up-stairs, calling the Greenwood Club, and Liddy was -behind me, afraid to come and not daring to stay behind. We -found the living-room and the drawing-room undisturbed. Somehow -I felt that whatever we found would be in the card-room or on the -staircase, and nothing but the fear that Halsey was in danger -drove me on; with every step my knees seemed to give way under -me. Gertrude was ahead and in the card-room she stopped, holding -her candle high. Then she pointed silently to the doorway -into the hall beyond. Huddled there on the floor, face down, -with his arms extended, was a man. - -Gertrude ran forward with a gasping sob. "Jack," she cried, "oh, -Jack!" - -Liddy had run, screaming, and the two of us were there alone. It -was Gertrude who turned him over, finally, until we could see his -white face, and then she drew a deep breath and dropped limply to -her knees. It was the body of a man, a gentleman, in a dinner -coat and white waistcoat, stained now with blood--the body of a -man I had never seen before. - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WHERE IS HALSEY? - -Gertrude gazed at the face in a kind of fascination. Then she -put out her hands blindly, and I thought she was going to faint. - -"He has killed him!" she muttered almost inarticulately; and at -that, because my nerves were going, I gave her a good shake. - -"What do you mean?" I said frantically. There was a depth of -grief and conviction in her tone that was worse than anything she -could have said. The shake braced her, anyhow, and she seemed to -pull herself together. But not another word would she say: she -stood gazing down at that gruesome figure on the floor, while -Liddy, ashamed of her flight and afraid to come back alone, drove -before her three terrified women-servants into the drawing-room, -which was as near as any of them would venture. - -Once in the drawing-room, Gertrude collapsed and went from one -fainting spell into another. I had all I could do to keep Liddy -from drowning her with cold water, and the maids huddled in a -corner, as much use as so many sheep. In a short time, although -it seemed hours, a car came rushing up, and Anne Watson, who had -waited to dress, opened the door. Three men from the Greenwood -Club, in all kinds of costumes, hurried in. I recognized a Mr. -Jarvis, but the others were strangers. - -"What's wrong?" the Jarvis man asked--and we made a strange -picture, no doubt. "Nobody hurt, is there?" He was looking at -Gertrude. - -"Worse than that, Mr. Jarvis," I said. "I think it is murder." - -At the word there was a commotion. The cook began to cry, and -Mrs. Watson knocked over a chair. The men were visibly -impressed. - -"Not any member of the family?" Mr. Jarvis asked, when he had got -his breath. - -"No," I said; and motioning Liddy to look after Gertrude, I led -the way with a lamp to the card-room door. One of the men gave -an exclamation, and they all hurried across the room. Mr. Jarvis -took the lamp from me--I remember that--and then, feeling -myself getting dizzy and light-headed, I closed my eyes. When I -opened them their brief examination was over, and Mr. Jarvis was -trying to put me in a chair. - -"You must get up-stairs," he said firmly, "you and Miss Gertrude, -too. This has been a terrible shock. In his own home, too." - -I stared at him without comprehension. "Who is it?" I asked with -difficulty. There was a band drawn tight around my throat. - -"It is Arnold Armstrong," he said, looking at me oddly, "and he -has been murdered in his father's house." - -After a minute I gathered myself together and Mr. Jarvis helped -me into the living-room. Liddy had got Gertrude up-stairs, and -the two strange men from the club stayed with the body. The -reaction from the shock and strain was tremendous: I was -collapsed--and then Mr. Jarvis asked me a question that brought -back my wandering faculties. - -"Where is Halsey?" he asked. - -"Halsey!" Suddenly Gertrude's stricken face rose before me the -empty rooms up-stairs. Where was Halsey? - -"He was here, wasn't he?" Mr. Jarvis persisted. "He stopped at -the club on his way over." - -"I--don't know where he is," I said feebly. - -One of the men from the club came in, asked for the telephone, -and I could hear him excitedly talking, saying something about -coroners and detectives. Mr. Jarvis leaned over to me. - -"Why don't you trust me, Miss Innes?" he said. "If I can do -anything I will. But tell me the whole thing." - -I did, finally, from the beginning, and when I told of Jack -Bailey's being in the house that night, he gave a long whistle. - -"I wish they were both here," he said when I finished. "Whatever -mad prank took them away, it would look better if they were here. -Especially--" - -"Especially what?" - -"Especially since Jack Bailey and Arnold Armstrong were -notoriously bad friends. It was Bailey who got Arnold into -trouble last spring--something about the bank. And then, too--" - -"Go on," I said. "If there is anything more, I ought to know." - -"There's nothing more," he said evasively. "There's just one -thing we may bank on, Miss Innes. Any court in the country will -acquit a man who kills an intruder in his house, at night. If -Halsey--" - -"Why, you don't think Halsey did it!" I exclaimed. There was a -queer feeling of physical nausea coming over me. - -"No, no, not at all," he said with forced cheerfulness. "Come, -Miss Innes, you're a ghost of yourself and I am going to help you -up-stairs and call your maid. This has been too much for you." - -Liddy helped me back to bed, and under the impression that I was -in danger of freezing to death, put a hot-water bottle over my -heart and another at my feet. Then she left me. It was early -dawn now, and from voices under my window I surmised that Mr. -Jarvis and his companions were searching the grounds. As for me, -I lay in bed, with every faculty awake. Where had Halsey gone? -How had he gone, and when? Before the murder, no doubt, but who -would believe that? If either he or Jack Bailey had heard an -intruder in the house and shot him--as they might have been -justified in doing--why had they run away? The whole thing was -unheard of, outrageous, and--impossible to ignore. - -About six o'clock Gertrude came in. She was fully dressed, and I -sat up nervously. - -"Poor Aunty!" she said. "What a shocking night you have had!" -She came over and sat down on the bed, and I saw she looked very -tired and worn. - -"Is there anything new?" I asked anxiously. - -"Nothing. The car is gone, but Warner"--he is the chauffeur-- -"Warner is at the lodge and knows nothing about it." - -"Well," I said, "if I ever get my hands on Halsey Innes, I shall -not let go until I have told him a few things. When we get this -cleared up, I am going back to the city to be quiet. One more -night like the last two will end me. The peace of the country-- -fiddle sticks!" - -Whereupon I told Gertrude of the noises the night before, and the -figure on the veranda in the east wing. As an afterthought I -brought out the pearl cuff-link. - -"I have no doubt now," I said, "that it was Arnold Armstrong the -night before last, too. He had a key, no doubt, but why he -should steal into his father's house I can not imagine. He could -have come with my permission, easily enough. Anyhow, whoever it -was that night, left this little souvenir." - -Gertrude took one look at the cuff-link, and went as white as the -pearls in it; she clutched at the foot of the bed, and stood -staring. As for me, I was quite as astonished as she was. - -"Where did--you--find it?" she asked finally, with a desperate -effort at calm. And while I told her she stood looking out of -the window with a look I could not fathom on her face. It was a -relief when Mrs. Watson tapped at the door and brought me some -tea and toast. The cook was in bed, completely demoralized, she -reported, and Liddy, brave with the daylight, was looking for -footprints around the house. Mrs. Watson herself was a wreck; -she was blue-white around the lips, and she had one hand tied up. - -She said she had fallen down-stairs in her excitement. It was -natural, of course, that the thing would shock her, having been -the Armstrongs' housekeeper for several years, and knowing Mr. -Arnold well. - -Gertrude had slipped out during my talk with Mrs. Watson, and I -dressed and went down-stairs. The billiard and card-rooms were -locked until the coroner and the detectives got there, and the -men from the club had gone back for more conventional clothing. - -I could hear Thomas in the pantry, alternately wailing for -Mr. Arnold, as he called him, and citing the tokens that had -precursed the murder. The house seemed to choke me, and, -slipping a shawl around me, I went out on the drive. At the -corner by the east wing I met Liddy. Her skirts were draggled -with dew to her knees, and her hair was still in crimps. - -"Go right in and change your clothes," I said sharply. "You're a -sight, and at your age!" - -She had a golf-stick in her hand, and she said she had found it -on the lawn. There was nothing unusual about it, but it occurred -to me that a golf-stick with a metal end might have been the -object that had scratched the stairs near the card-room. I took -it from her, and sent her up for dry garments. Her daylight -courage and self-importance, and her shuddering delight in the -mystery, irritated me beyond words. After I left her I made a -circuit of the building. Nothing seemed to be disturbed: the -house looked as calm and peaceful in the morning sun as it had -the day I had been coerced into taking it. There was nothing to -show that inside had been mystery and violence and sudden death. - -In one of the tulip beds back of the house an early blackbird was -pecking viciously at something that glittered in the light. -I picked my way gingerly over through the dew and stooped down: -almost buried in the soft ground was a revolver! I scraped the -earth off it with the tip of my shoe, and, picking it up, slipped -it into my pocket. Not until I had got into my bedroom and -double-locked the door did I venture to take it out and examine -it. One look was all I needed. It was Halsey's revolver. I had -unpacked it the day before and put it on his shaving-stand, and -there could be no mistake. His name was on a small silver plate -on the handle. - -I seemed to see a network closing around my boy, innocent as I -knew he was. The revolver--I am afraid of them, but anxiety gave -me courage to look through the barrel--the revolver had still two -bullets in it. I could only breathe a prayer of thankfulness -that I had found the revolver before any sharp-eyed detective had -come around. - -I decided to keep what clues I had, the cuff-link, the golf-stick -and the revolver, in a secure place until I could see some reason -for displaying them. The cuff-link had been dropped into a -little filigree box on my toilet table. I opened the box and -felt around for it. The box was empty--the cuff-link had -disappeared! - - - -CHAPTER V - -GERTRUDE'S ENGAGEMENT - -At ten o'clock the Casanova hack brought up three men. They -introduced themselves as the coroner of the county and two -detectives from the city. The coroner led the way at once to the -locked wing, and with the aid of one of the detectives examined -the rooms and the body. The other detective, after a short -scrutiny of the dead man, busied himself with the outside of the -house. It was only after they had got a fair idea of things as -they were that they sent for me. - -I received them in the living-room, and I had made up my mind -exactly what to tell. I had taken the house for the summer, I -said, while the Armstrongs were in California. In spite of a -rumor among the servants about strange noises--I cited Thomas-- -nothing had occurred the first two nights. On the third -night I believed that some one had been in the house: I had heard -a crashing sound, but being alone with one maid had not -investigated. The house had been locked in the morning and -apparently undisturbed. - -Then, as clearly as I could, I related how, the night before, a -shot had roused us; that my niece and I had investigated and -found a body; that I did not know who the murdered man was until -Mr. Jarvis from the club informed me, and that I knew of no -reason why Mr. Arnold Armstrong should steal into his father's -house at night. I should have been glad to allow him entree -there at any time. - -"Have you reason to believe, Miss Innes," the coroner asked, -"that any member of your household, imagining Mr. Armstrong was a -burglar, shot him in self-defense?" - -"I have no reason for thinking so," I said quietly. - -"Your theory is that Mr. Armstrong was followed here by some -enemy, and shot as he entered the house?" - -"I don't think I have a theory," I said. "The thing that has -puzzled me is why Mr. Armstrong should enter his father's house -two nights in succession, stealing in like a thief, when he -needed only to ask entrance to be admitted." - -The coroner was a very silent man: he took some notes after this, -but he seemed anxious to make the next train back to town. He -set the inquest for the following Saturday, gave Mr. Jamieson, -the younger of the two detectives, and the more intelligent -looking, a few instructions, and, after gravely shaking hands -with me and regretting the unfortunate affair, took his -departure, accompanied by the other detective. - -I was just beginning to breathe freely when Mr. Jamieson, who had -been standing by the window, came over to me. - -"The family consists of yourself alone, Miss Innes?" - -"My niece is here," I said. - -"There is no one but yourself and your niece?" - -"My nephew." I had to moisten my lips. - -"Oh, a nephew. I should like to see him, if he is here." - -"He is not here just now," I said as quietly as I could. "I -expect him--at any time." - -"He was here yesterday evening, I believe?" - -"No--yes." - -"Didn't he have a guest with him? Another man?" - -"He brought a friend with him to stay over Sunday, Mr. Bailey." - -"Mr. John Bailey, the cashier of the Traders' Bank I believe." -And I knew that some one at the Greenwood Club had told. "When -did they leave?" - -"Very early--I don't know at just what time." - -Mr. Jamieson turned suddenly and looked at me. - -"Please try to be more explicit," he said. "You say your nephew -and Mr. Bailey were in the house last night, and yet you and your -niece, with some women-servants, found the body. Where was your -nephew?" - -I was entirely desperate by that time. - -"I do not know," I cried, "but be sure of this: Halsey knows -nothing of this thing, and no amount of circumstantial evidence -can make an innocent man guilty." - -"Sit down," he said, pushing forward a chair. "There are some -things I have to tell you, and, in return, please tell me all you -know. Believe me, things always come out. In the first place, -Mr. Armstrong was shot from above. The bullet was fired at close -range, entered below the shoulder and came out, after passing -through the heart, well down the back. In other words, I -believe the murderer stood on the stairs and fired down. In the -second place, I found on the edge of the billiard-table a charred -cigar which had burned itself partly out, and a cigarette which -had consumed itself to the cork tip. Neither one had been more -than lighted, then put down and forgotten. Have you any idea -what it was that made your nephew and Mr. Bailey leave their -cigars and their game, take out the automobile without calling -the chauffeur, and all this at--let me see certainly before three -o'clock in the morning?" - -"I don't know," I said; "but depend on it, Mr. Jamieson, Halsey -will be back himself to explain everything." - -"I sincerely hope so," he said. "Miss Innes, has it occurred to -you that Mr. Bailey might know something of this?" - -Gertrude had come down-stairs and just as he spoke she came in. -I saw her stop suddenly, as if she had been struck. - -"He does not," she said in a tone that was not her own. "Mr. -Bailey and my brother know nothing of this. The murder was -committed at three. They left the house at a quarter before -three." - -"How do you know that?" Mr. Jamieson asked oddly. "Do you -KNOW at what time they left?" - -"I do," Gertrude answered firmly. "At a quarter before three my -brother and Mr. Bailey left the house, by the main entrance. I-- -was--there." - -"Gertrude," I said excitedly, "you are dreaming! Why, at a -quarter to three--" - -"Listen," she said. "At half-past two the downstairs telephone -rang. I had not gone to sleep, and I heard it. Then I heard -Halsey answer it, and in a few minutes he came up-stairs and -knocked at my door. We--we talked for a minute, then I put on my -dressing-gown and slippers, and went down-stairs with him. Mr. -Bailey was in the billiard-room. We--we all talked together for -perhaps ten minutes. Then it was decided that--that they should -both go away--" - -"Can't you be more explicit?" Mr. Jamieson asked. "WHY did -they go away?" - -"I am only telling you what happened, not why it happened," she -said evenly. "Halsey went for the car, and instead of bringing -it to the house and rousing people, he went by the lower road -from the stable. Mr. Bailey was to meet him at the foot of the -lawn. Mr. Bailey left--" - -"Which way?" Mr. Jamieson asked sharply. - -"By the main entrance. He left--it was a quarter to three. I -know exactly." - -"The clock in the hall is stopped, Miss Innes," said Jamieson. -Nothing seemed to escape him. - -"He looked at his watch," she replied, and I could see Mr. -Jamieson's snap, as if he had made a discovery. As for myself, -during the whole recital I had been plunged into the deepest -amazement. - -"Will you pardon me for a personal question?" The detective was -a youngish man, and I thought he was somewhat embarrassed. "What -are your--your relations with Mr. Bailey?" - -Gertrude hesitated. Then she came over and put her hand lovingly -in mine. - -"I am engaged to marry him," she said simply. - -I had grown so accustomed to surprises that I could only gasp -again, and as for Gertrude, the hand that lay in mine was burning -with fever. - -"And--after that," Mr. Jamieson went on, "you went directly to -bed?" - -Gertrude hesitated. - -"No," she said finally. "I--I am not nervous, and after I had -extinguished the light, I remembered something I had left in -the billiard-room, and I felt my way back there through the -darkness." - -"Will you tell me what it was you had forgotten?" - -"I can not tell you," she said slowly. "I--I did not leave the -billiard-room at once--" - -"Why?" The detective's tone was imperative. "This is very -important, Miss Innes." - -"I was crying," Gertrude said in a low tone. "When the French -clock in the drawing-room struck three, I got up, and then--I -heard a step on the east porch, just outside the card-room. Some -one with a key was working with the latch, and I thought, of -course, of Halsey. When we took the house he called that his -entrance, and he had carried a key for it ever since. The door -opened and I was about to ask what he had forgotten, when there -was a flash and a report. Some heavy body dropped, and, half -crazed with terror and shock, I ran through the drawing-room and -got up-stairs--I scarcely remember how." - -She dropped into a chair, and I thought Mr. Jamieson must have -finished. But he was not through. - -"You certainly clear your brother and Mr. Bailey admirably," he -said. "The testimony is invaluable, especially in view of the -fact that your brother and Mr. Armstrong had, I believe, -quarreled rather seriously some time ago." - -"Nonsense," I broke in. "Things are bad enough, Mr. Jamieson, -without inventing bad feeling where it doesn't exist. Gertrude, -I don't think Halsey knew the--the murdered man, did he?" - -But Mr. Jamieson was sure of his ground. - -"The quarrel, I believe," he persisted, "was about Mr. -Armstrong's conduct to you, Miss Gertrude. He had been paying -you unwelcome attentions." - -And I had never seen the man! - -When she nodded a "yes" I saw the tremendous possibilities -involved. If this detective could prove that Gertrude feared and -disliked the murdered man, and that Mr. Armstrong had been -annoying and possibly pursuing her with hateful attentions, all -that, added to Gertrude's confession of her presence in the -billiard-room at the time of the crime, looked strange, to say -the least. The prominence of the family assured a strenuous -effort to find the murderer, and if we had nothing worse to look -forward to, we were sure of a distasteful publicity. - -Mr. Jamieson shut his note-book with a snap, and thanked us. - -"I have an idea," he said, apropos of nothing at all, "that at -any rate the ghost is laid here. Whatever the rappings have -been--and the colored man says they began when the family went -west three months ago--they are likely to stop now." - -Which shows how much he knew about it. The ghost was not laid: -with the murder of Arnold Armstrong he, or it, only seemed to -take on fresh vigor. - -Mr. Jamieson left then, and when Gertrude had gone up-stairs, as -she did at once, I sat and thought over what I had just heard. -Her engagement, once so engrossing a matter, paled now beside the -significance of her story. If Halsey and Jack Bailey had left -before the crime, how came Halsey's revolver in the tulip bed? -What was the mysterious cause of their sudden flight? What had -Gertrude left in the billiard-room? What was the significance of -the cuff-link, and where was it? - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN THE EAST CORRIDOR - -When the detective left he enjoined absolute secrecy on everybody -in the household. The Greenwood Club promised the same thing, -and as there are no Sunday afternoon papers, the murder was not -publicly known until Monday. The coroner himself notified the -Armstrong family lawyer, and early in the afternoon he came out. -I had not seen Mr. Jamieson since morning, but I knew he had been -interrogating the servants. Gertrude was locked in her room with -a headache, and I had luncheon alone. - -Mr. Harton, the lawyer, was a little, thin man, and he looked as -if he did not relish his business that day. - -"This is very unfortunate, Miss Innes," he said, after we had -shaken hands. "Most unfortunate--and mysterious. With the -father and mother in the west, I find everything devolves on me; -and, as you can understand, it is an unpleasant duty." - -"No doubt," I said absently. "Mr. Harton, I am going to ask you -some questions, and I hope you will answer them. I feel that I -am entitled to some knowledge, because I and my family are just -now in a most ambiguous position." - -I don't know whether he understood me or not: he took of his -glasses and wiped them. - -"I shall be very happy," he said with old-fashioned courtesy. - -"Thank you. Mr. Harton, did Mr. Arnold Armstrong know that -Sunnyside had been rented?" - -"I think--yes, he did. In fact, I myself told him about it." - -"And he knew who the tenants were?" - -"Yes." - -"He had not been living with the family for some years, I -believe?" - -"No. Unfortunately, there had been trouble between Arnold and -his father. For two years he had lived in town." - -"Then it would be unlikely that he came here last night to get -possession of anything belonging to him?" - -"I should think it hardly possible," he admitted. - -"To be perfectly frank, Miss Innes, I can not think of any reason -whatever for his coming here as he did. He had been staying at -the club-house across the valley for the last week, Jarvis tells -me, but that only explains how he came here, not why. It is a -most unfortunate family." - -He shook his head despondently, and I felt that this dried-up -little man was the repository of much that he had not told me. I -gave up trying to elicit any information from him, and we went -together to view the body before it was taken to the city. It -had been lifted on to the billiard-table and a sheet thrown over -it; otherwise nothing had been touched. A soft hat lay beside -it, and the collar of the dinner-coat was still turned up. The -handsome, dissipated face of Arnold Armstrong, purged of its ugly -lines, was now only pathetic. As we went in Mrs. Watson appeared -at the card-room door. - -"Come in, Mrs. Watson," the lawyer said. But she shook her head -and withdrew: she was the only one in the house who seemed to -regret the dead man, and even she seemed rather shocked than -sorry. - -I went to the door at the foot of the circular staircase and -opened it. If I could only have seen Halsey coming at his -usual hare-brained clip up the drive, if I could have heard the -throb of the motor, I would have felt that my troubles were over. - -But there was nothing to be seen. The countryside lay sunny and -quiet in its peaceful Sunday afternoon calm, and far down the -drive Mr. Jamieson was walking slowly, stooping now and then, as -if to examine the road. When I went back, Mr. Harton was -furtively wiping his eyes. - -"The prodigal has come home, Miss Innes," he said. "How often -the sins of the fathers are visited on the children!" Which left -me pondering. - -Before Mr. Harton left, he told me something of the Armstrong -family. Paul Armstrong, the father, had been married twice. -Arnold was a son by the first marriage. The second Mrs. -Armstrong had been a widow, with a child, a little girl. This -child, now perhaps twenty, was Louise Armstrong, having taken her -stepfather's name, and was at present in California with the -family. - -"They will probably return at once," he concluded "sad part of my -errand here to-day is to see if you will relinquish your lease -here in their favor." - -"We would better wait and see if they wish to come," I said. -"It seems unlikely, and my town house is being remodeled." At -that he let the matter drop, but it came up unpleasantly enough, -later. - -At six o'clock the body was taken away, and at seven-thirty, -after an early dinner, Mr. Harton went. Gertrude had not come -down, and there was no news of Halsey. Mr. Jamieson had taken a -lodging in the village, and I had not seen him since mid- -afternoon. It was about nine o'clock, I think, when the bell -rang and he was ushered into the living-room. - -"Sit down," I said grimly. "Have you found a clue that will -incriminate me, Mr. Jamieson?" - -He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "No," he said. "If you -had killed Mr. Armstrong, you would have left no clues. You -would have had too much intelligence." - -After that we got along better. He was fishing in his pocket, -and after a minute he brought out two scraps of paper. "I have -been to the club-house," he said, "and among Mr. Armstrong's -effects, I found these. One is curious; the other is puzzling." - -The first was a sheet of club note-paper, on which was written, -over and over, the name "Halsey B. Innes." It was Halsey's -flowing signature to a dot, but it lacked Halsey's ease. The -ones toward the bottom of the sheet were much better than the top -ones. Mr. Jamieson smiled at my face. - -"His old tricks," he said. "That one is merely curious; this -one, as I said before, is puzzling." - -The second scrap, folded and refolded into a compass so tiny that -the writing had been partly obliterated, was part of a letter-- -the lower half of a sheet, not typed, but written in a cramped -hand. - - -"----by altering the plans for----rooms, may be possible. The -best way, in my opinion, would be to----the plan for----in one of -the----rooms----chimney." - - -That was all. - -"Well?" I said, looking up. "There is nothing in that, is there? -A man ought to be able to change the plan of his house without -becoming an object of suspicion." - -"There is little in the paper itself," he admitted; "but why -should Arnold Armstrong carry that around, unless it meant -something? He never built a house, you may be sure of that. If -it is this house, it may mean anything, from a secret room--" - -"To an extra bath-room," I said scornfully. "Haven't you a -thumb-print, too?" - -"I have," he said with a smile, "and the print of a foot in a -tulip bed, and a number of other things. The oddest part is, -Miss Innes, that the thumb-mark is probably yours and the -footprint certainly." - -His audacity was the only thing that saved me: his amused smile -put me on my mettle, and I ripped out a perfectly good scallop -before I answered. - -"Why did I step into the tulip bed?" I asked with interest. - -"You picked up something," he said good-humoredly, "which you are -going to tell me about later." - -"Am I, indeed?" I was politely curious. "With this remarkable -insight of yours, I wish you would tell me where I shall find my -four-thousand-dollar motor car." - -"I was just coming to that," he said. "You will find it about -thirty miles away, at Andrews Station, in a blacksmith shop, -where it is being repaired." - -I laid down my knitting then and looked at him. - -"And Halsey?" I managed to say. - -"We are going to exchange information," he said "I am going to -tell you that, when you tell me what you picked up in the tulip -bed." - -We looked steadily at each other: it was not an unfriendly -stare; we were only measuring weapons. Then he smiled a little -and got up. - -"With your permission," he said, "I am going to examine the card- -room and the staircase again. You might think over my offer in -the meantime." - -He went on through the drawing-room, and I listened to his -footsteps growing gradually fainter. I dropped my pretense at -knitting and, leaning back, I thought over the last forty-eight -hours. Here was I, Rachel Innes, spinster, a granddaughter of -old John Innes of Revolutionary days, a D. A. R., a Colonial -Dame, mixed up with a vulgar and revolting crime, and even -attempting to hoodwink the law! Certainly I had left the -straight and narrow way. - -I was roused by hearing Mr. Jamieson coming rapidly back through -the drawing-room. He stopped at the door. - -"Miss Innes," he said quickly, "will you come with me and light -the east corridor? I have fastened somebody in the small room at -the head of the card-room stairs." - -I jumped! up at once. - -"You mean--the murderer?" I gasped. - -"Possibly," he said quietly, as we hurried together up the -stairs. "Some one was lurking on the staircase when I went back. -I spoke; instead of an answer, whoever it was turned and ran up. -I followed--it was dark--but as I turned the corner at the top a -figure darted through this door and closed it. The bolt was on -my side, and I pushed it forward. It is a closet, I think." We -were in the upper hall now. "If you will show me the electric -switch, Miss Innes, you would better wait in your own room." - -Trembling as I was, I was determined to see that door opened. I -hardly knew what I feared, but so many terrible and inexplicable -things had happened that suspense was worse than certainty. - -"I am perfectly cool," I said, "and I am going to remain here." - -The lights flashed up along that end of the corridor, throwing -the doors into relief. At the intersection of the small hallway -with the larger, the circular staircase wound its way up, as if -it had been an afterthought of the architect. And just around -the corner, in the small corridor, was the door Mr. Jamieson had -indicated. I was still unfamiliar with the house, and I did not -remember the door. My heart was thumping wildly in my ears, but -I nodded to him to go ahead. I was perhaps eight or ten feet -away--and then he threw the bolt back. - -"Come out," he said quietly. There was no response. "Come-- -out," he repeated. Then--I think he had a revolver, but I am not -sure--he stepped aside and threw the door open. - -From where I stood I could not see beyond the door, but I saw Mr. -Jamieson's face change and heard him mutter something, then he -bolted down the stairs, three at a time. When my knees had -stopped shaking, I moved forward, slowly, nervously, until I had -a partial view of what was beyond the door. It seemed at first -to be a closet, empty. Then I went close and examined it, to -stop with a shudder. Where the floor should have been was black -void and darkness, from which came the indescribable, damp smell -of the cellars. - -Mr. Jamieson had locked somebody in the clothes chute. As I -leaned over I fancied I heard a groan--or was it the wind? - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A SPRAINED ANKLE - -I was panic-stricken. As I ran along the corridor I was -confident that the mysterious intruder and probable murderer had -been found, and that he lay dead or dying at the foot of the -chute. I got down the staircase somehow, and through the kitchen -to the basement stairs. Mr. Jamieson had been before me, and the -door stood open. Liddy was standing in the middle of the -kitchen, holding a frying-pan by the handle as a weapon. - -"Don't go down there," she yelled, when she saw me moving toward -the basement stairs. "Don't you do it, Miss Rachel. That -Jamieson's down there now. There's only trouble comes of hunting -ghosts; they lead you into bottomless pits and things like that. -Oh, Miss Rachel, don't--" as I tried to get past her. - -She was interrupted by Mr. Jamieson's reappearance. He ran up -the stairs two at a time, and his face was flushed and -furious. - -"The whole place is locked," he said angrily. "Where's the -laundry key kept?" - -"It's kept in the door," Liddy snapped. "That whole end of the -cellar is kept locked, so nobody can get at the clothes, and then -the key's left in the door? so that unless a thief was as blind -as--as some detectives, he could walk right in." - -"Liddy," I said sharply, "come down with us and turn on all the -lights." - -She offered her resignation, as usual, on the spot, but I took -her by the arm, and she came along finally. She switched on all -the lights and pointed to a door just ahead. - -"That's the door," she said sulkily. "The key's in it." - -But the key was not in it. Mr. Jamieson shook it, but it was a -heavy door, well locked. And then he stooped and began punching -around the keyhole with the end of a lead-pencil. When he stood -up his face was exultant. - -"It's locked on the inside," he said in a low tone. "There is -somebody in there." - -"Lord have mercy!" gasped Liddy, and turned to run. - -"Liddy," I called, "go through the house at once and see who is -missing, or if any one is. We'll have to clear this thing at -once. Mr. Jamieson, if you will watch here I will go to the -lodge and find Warner. Thomas would be of no use. Together you -may be able to force the door." - -"A good idea," he assented. "But--there are windows, of course, -and there is nothing to prevent whoever is in there from getting -out that way." - -"Then lock the door at the top of the basement stairs," I -suggested, "and patrol the house from the outside." - -We agreed to this, and I had a feeling that the mystery of -Sunnyside was about to be solved. I ran down the steps and along -the drive. Just at the corner I ran full tilt into somebody who -seemed to be as much alarmed as I was. It was not until I had -recoiled a step or two that I recognized Gertrude, and she me. - -"Good gracious, Aunt Ray," she exclaimed, "what is the matter?" - -"There's somebody locked in the laundry," I panted. "That is-- -unless--you didn't see any one crossing the lawn or skulking -around the house, did you?" - -"I think we have mystery on the brain," Gertrude said wearily. -"No, I haven't seen any one, except old Thomas, who looked for -all the world as if he had been ransacking the pantry. What have -you locked in the laundry?" - -"I can't wait to explain," I replied. "I must get Warner from -the lodge. If you came out for air, you'd better put on your -overshoes." And then I noticed that Gertrude was limping--not -much, but sufficiently to make her progress very slow, and -seemingly painful. - -"You have hurt yourself," I said sharply. - -"I fell over the carriage block," she explained. "I thought -perhaps I might see Halsey coming home. He--he ought to be -here." - -I hurried on down the drive. The lodge was some distance from -the house, in a grove of trees where the drive met the county -road. There were two white stone pillars to mark the entrance, -but the iron gates, once closed and tended by the lodge-keeper, -now stood permanently open. The day of the motor-car had come; -no one had time for closed gates and lodge-keepers. The lodge at -Sunnyside was merely a sort of supplementary servants' quarters: -it was as convenient in its appointments as the big house and -infinitely more cozy. - -As I went down the drive, my thoughts were busy. Who would it be -that Mr. Jamieson had trapped in the cellar? Would we find a -body or some one badly injured? Scarcely either. Whoever had -fallen had been able to lock the laundry door on the inside. If -the fugitive had come from outside the house, how did he get in? -If it was some member of the household, who could it have been? -And then--a feeling of horror almost overwhelmed me. Gertrude! -Gertrude and her injured ankle! Gertrude found limping slowly up -the drive when I had thought she was in bed! - -I tried to put the thought away, but it would not go. If -Gertrude had been on the circular staircase that night, why had -she fled from Mr. Jamieson? The idea, puzzling as it was, seemed -borne out by this circumstance. Whoever had taken refuge at the -head of the stairs could scarcely have been familiar with the -house, or with the location of the chute. The mystery seemed to -deepen constantly. What possible connection could there be -between Halsey and Gertrude, and the murder of Arnold Armstrong? -And yet, every way I turned I seemed to find something that -pointed to such a connection. - -At the foot of the drive the road described a long, sloping, -horseshoe-shaped curve around the lodge. There were lights -there, streaming cheerfully out on to the trees, and from an -upper room came wavering shadows, as if some one with a lamp was -moving around. I had come almost silently in my evening -slippers, and I had my second collision of the evening on the -road just above the house. I ran full into a man in a long coat, -who was standing in the shadow beside the drive, with his back to -me, watching the lighted windows. - -"What the hell!" he ejaculated furiously, and turned around. -When he saw me, however, he did not wait for any retort on my -part. He faded away--this is not slang; he did--he absolutely -disappeared in the dusk without my getting more than a glimpse of -his face. I had a vague impression of unfamiliar features and of -a sort of cap with a visor. Then he was gone. - -I went to the lodge and rapped. It required two or three -poundings to bring Thomas to the door, and he opened it only an -inch or so. - -"Where is Warner?" I asked. - -"I--I think he's in bed, ma'm." - -"Get him up," I said, "and for goodness' sake open the door, -Thomas. I'll wait for Warner." - -"It's kind o' close in here, ma'm," he said, obeying gingerly, -and disclosing a cool and comfortable looking interior. "Perhaps -you'd keer to set on the porch an' rest yo'self." - -It was so evident that Thomas did not want me inside that I went -in. - -"Tell Warner he is needed in a hurry," I repeated, and turned -into the little sitting-room. I could hear Thomas going up the -stairs, could hear him rouse Warner, and the steps of the -chauffeur as he hurriedly dressed. But my attention was busy -with the room below. - -On the center-table, open, was a sealskin traveling bag. It was -filled with gold-topped bottles and brushes, and it breathed -opulence, luxury, femininity from every inch of surface. How did -it get there? I was still asking myself the question when Warner -came running down the stairs and into the room. He was -completely but somewhat incongruously dressed, and his open, -boyish face looked abashed. He was a country boy, absolutely -frank and reliable, of fair education and intelligence--one of -the small army of American youths who turn a natural aptitude for -mechanics into the special field of the automobile, and earn good -salaries in a congenial occupation. - -"What is it, Miss Innes?" he asked anxiously. - -"There is some one locked in the laundry," I replied. "Mr. -Jamieson wants you to help him break the lock. Warner, whose bag -is this?" - -He was in the doorway by this time, and he pretended not to hear. - -"Warner," I called, "come back here. Whose bag is this?" - -He stopped then, but he did not turn around. - -"It's--it belongs to Thomas," he said, and fled up the drive. - -To Thomas! A London bag with mirrors and cosmetic jars of which -Thomas could not even have guessed the use! However, I put the -bag in the back of my mind, which was fast becoming stored with -anomalous and apparently irreconcilable facts, and followed -Warner to the house. - -Liddy had come back to the kitchen: the door to the basement -stairs was double-barred, and had a table pushed against it; -and beside her on the table was most of the kitchen -paraphernalia. - -"Did you see if there was any one missing in the house?" I asked, -ignoring the array of sauce-pans rolling-pins, and the poker of -the range. - -"Rosie is missing," Liddy said with unction. She had objected to -Rosie, the parlor maid, from the start. "Mrs. Watson went into -her room, and found she had gone without her hat. People that -trust themselves a dozen miles from the city, in strange houses, -with servants they don't know, needn't be surprised if they wake -up some morning and find their throats cut." - -After which carefully veiled sarcasm Liddy relapsed into gloom. -Warner came in then with a handful of small tools, and Mr. -Jamieson went with him to the basement. Oddly enough, I was not -alarmed. With all my heart I wished for Halsey, but I was not -frightened. At the door he was to force, Warner put down his -tools and looked at it. Then he turned the handle. Without the -slightest difficulty the door opened, revealing the blackness of -the drying-room beyond! - -Mr. Jamieson gave an exclamation of disgust. - -"Gone!" he said. "Confound such careless work! I might have -known." - -It was true enough. We got the lights on finally and looked all -through the three rooms that constituted this wing of the -basement. Everything was quiet and empty. An explanation of how -the fugitive had escaped injury was found in a heaped-up basket -of clothes under the chute. The basket had been overturned, but -that was all. Mr. Jamieson examined the windows: one was -unlocked, and offered an easy escape. The window or the door? -Which way had the fugitive escaped? The door seemed most -probable, and I hoped it had been so. I could not have borne, -just then, to think that it was my poor Gertrude we had been -hounding through the darkness, and yet--I had met Gertrude not -far from that very window. - -I went up-stairs at last, tired and depressed. Mrs. Watson and -Liddy were making tea in the kitchen. In certain walks of life -the tea-pot is the refuge in times of stress, trouble or -sickness: they give tea to the dying and they put it in the -baby's nursing bottle. Mrs. Watson was fixing a tray to be sent -in to me, and when I asked her about Rosie she confirmed her -absence. - -"She's not here," she said; "but I would not think much of that, -Miss Innes. Rosie is a pretty young girl, and perhaps she has a -sweetheart. It will be a good thing if she has. The maids stay -much better when they have something like that to hold them -here." - -Gertrude had gone back to her room, and while I was drinking my -cup of hot tea, Mr. Jamieson came in. - -"We might take up the conversation where we left off an hour and -a half ago," he said. "But before we go on, I want to say this: -The person who escaped from the laundry was a woman with a foot -of moderate size and well arched. She wore nothing but a -stocking on her right foot, and, in spite of the unlocked door, -she escaped by the window." - -And again I thought of Gertrude's sprained ankle. Was it the -right or the left? - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE OTHER HALF OF THE LINE - -"Miss Innes," the detective began, "what is your opinion of the -figure you saw on the east veranda the night you and your maid -were in the house alone?" - -"It was a woman," I said positively. - -"And yet your maid affirms with equal positiveness that it was a -man." - -"Nonsense," I broke in. "Liddy had her eyes shut--she always -shuts them when she's frightened." - -"And you never thought then that the intruder who came later that -night might be a woman--the woman, in fact, whom you saw on the -veranda?" - -"I had reasons for thinking it was a man," I said remembering the -pearl cuff-link. - -"Now we are getting down to business. WHAT were your reasons -for thinking that?" - -I hesitated. - -"If you have any reason for believing that your midnight guest -was Mr. Armstrong, other than his visit here the next night, you -ought to tell me, Miss Innes. We can take nothing for granted. -If, for instance, the intruder who dropped the bar and scratched -the staircase--you see, I know about that--if this visitor was a -woman, why should not the same woman have come back the following -night, met Mr. Armstrong on the circular staircase, and in alarm -shot him?" - -"It was a man," I reiterated. And then, because I could think of -no other reason for my statement, I told him about the pearl -cuff-link. He was intensely interested. - -"Will you give me the link," he said, when I finished, "or, at -least, let me see it? I consider it a most important clue." - -"Won't the description do?" - -"Not as well as the original." - -"Well, I'm very sorry," I said, as calmly as I could, "I--the -thing is lost. It--it must have fallen out of a box on my -dressing-table." - -Whatever he thought of my explanation, and I knew he doubted it, -he made no sign. He asked me to describe the link -accurately, and I did so, while he glanced at a list he took from -his pocket. - -"One set monogram cuff-links," he read, "one set plain pearl -links, one set cuff-links, woman's head set with diamonds and -emeralds. There is no mention of such a link as you describe, -and yet, if your theory is right, Mr. Armstrong must have taken -back in his cuffs one complete cuff-link, and a half, perhaps, of -the other." - -The idea was new to me. If it had not been the murdered man who -had entered the house that night, who had it been? - -"There are a number of strange things connected with this case," -the detective went on. "Miss Gertrude Innes testified that she -heard some one fumbling with the lock, that the door opened, and -that almost immediately the shot was fired. Now, Miss Innes, -here is the strange part of that. Mr. Armstrong had no key with -him. There was no key in the lock, or on the floor. In other -words, the evidence points absolutely to this: Mr. Armstrong was -admitted to the house from within." - -"It is impossible," I broke in. "Mr. Jamieson, do you know what -your words imply? Do you know that you are practically -accusing Gertrude Innes of admitting that man?" - -"Not quite that," he said, with his friendly smile. "In fact, -Miss Innes, I am quite certain she did not. But as long as I -learn only parts of the truth, from both you and her, what can I -do? I know you picked up something in the flower bed: you refuse -to tell me what it was. I know Miss Gertrude went back to the -billiard-room to get something, she refuses to say what. You -suspect what happened to the cuff-link, but you won't tell me. -So far, all I am sure of is this: I do not believe Arnold -Armstrong was the midnight visitor who so alarmed you by -dropping--shall we say, a golf-stick? And I believe that when he -did come he was admitted by some one in the house. Who knows--it -may have been--Liddy!" - -I stirred my tea angrily. - -"I have always heard," I said dryly, "that undertakers' -assistants are jovial young men. A man's sense of humor seems to -be in inverse proportion to the gravity of his profession." - -"A man's sense of humor is a barbarous and a cruel thing, Miss -Innes," he admitted. "It is to the feminine as the hug of a bear -is to the scratch of--well;--anything with claws. Is that -you, Thomas? Come in." - -Thomas Johnson stood in the doorway. He looked alarmed and -apprehensive, and suddenly I remembered the sealskin dressing-bag -in the lodge. Thomas came just inside the door and stood with -his head drooping, his eyes, under their shaggy gray brows, fixed -on Mr. Jamieson. - -"Thomas," said the detective, not unkindly, "I sent for you to -tell us what you told Sam Bohannon at the club, the day before -Mr. Arnold was found here, dead. Let me see. You came here -Friday night to see Miss Innes, didn't you? And came to work -here Saturday morning?" - -For some unexplained reason Thomas looked relieved. - -"Yas, sah," he said. "You see it were like this: When Mistah -Armstrong and the fam'ly went away, Mis' Watson an' me, we was -lef' in charge till the place was rented. Mis' Watson, she've -bin here a good while, an' she warn' skeery. So she slep' in the -house. I'd bin havin' tokens--I tol' Mis' Innes some of 'em--an' -I slep' in the lodge. Then one day Mis' Watson, she came to me -an' she sez, sez she, 'Thomas, you'll hev to sleep up in the -big house. I'm too nervous to do it any more.' But I jes' -reckon to myself that ef it's too skeery fer her, it's too skeery -fer me. We had it, then, sho' nuff, and it ended up with Mis' -Watson stayin' in the lodge nights an' me lookin' fer work at de -club." - -"Did Mrs. Watson say that anything had happened to alarm her?" - -"No, sah. She was jes' natchally skeered. Well, that was all, -far's I know, until the night I come over to see Mis' Innes. I -come across the valley, along the path from the club-house, and I -goes home that way. Down in the creek bottom I almost run into a -man. He wuz standin' with his back to me, an' he was workin' -with one of these yere electric light things that fit in yer -pocket. He was havin' trouble--one minute it'd flash out, an' -the nex' it'd be gone. I hed a view of 'is white dress shirt an' -tie, as I passed. I didn't see his face. But I know it warn't -Mr. Arnold. It was a taller man than Mr. Arnold. Beside that, -Mr. Arnold was playin' cards when I got to the club-house, same's -he'd been doin' all day." - -"And the next morning you came back along the path," pursued Mr. -Jamieson relentlessly. - -"The nex' mornin' I come back along the path an' down where I dun -see the man night befoh, I picked up this here." The old man -held out a tiny object and Mr. Jamieson took it. Then he held it -on his extended palm for me to see. It was the other half of the -pearl cuff-link! - -But Mr. Jamieson was not quite through questioning him. - -"And so you showed it to Sam, at the club, and asked him if he -knew any one who owned such a link, and Sam said--what?" - -"Wal, Sam, he 'lowed he'd seen such a pair of cuff-buttons in a -shirt belongin' to Mr. Bailey--Mr. Jack Bailey, sah." - -"I'll keep this link, Thomas, for a while," the detective said. -"That's all I wanted to know. Good night." - -As Thomas shuffled out, Mr. Jamieson watched me sharply. - -"You see, Miss Innes," he said, "Mr. Bailey insists on mixing -himself with this thing. If Mr. Bailey came here that Friday -night expecting to meet Arnold Armstrong, and missed him--if, as -I say, he had done this, might he not, seeing him enter the -following night, have struck him down, as he had intended -before?" - -"But the motive?" I gasped. - -"There could be motive proved, I think. Arnold Armstrong and -John Bailey have been enemies since the latter, as cashier of the -Traders' Bank, brought Arnold almost into the clutches of the -law. Also, you forget that both men have been paying attention -to Miss Gertrude. Bailey's flight looks bad, too." - -"And you think Halsey helped him to escape?" - -"Undoubtedly. Why, what could it be but flight? Miss Innes, let -me reconstruct that evening, as I see it. Bailey and Armstrong -had quarreled at the club. I learned this to-day. Your nephew -brought Bailey over. Prompted by jealous, insane fury, Armstrong -followed, coming across by the path. He entered the billiard- -room wing--perhaps rapping, and being admitted by your nephew. -Just inside he was shot, by some one on the circular staircase. -The shot fired, your nephew and Bailey left the house at once, -going toward the automobile house. They left by the lower road, -which prevented them being heard, and when you and Miss Gertrude -got down-stairs everything was quiet." - -"But--Gertrude's story," I stammered. - -"Miss Gertrude only brought forward her explanation the following -morning. I do not believe it, Miss Innes. It is the story of a -loving and ingenious woman." - -"And--this thing to-night?" - -"May upset my whole view of the case. We must give the benefit -of every doubt, after all. We may, for instance, come back to -the figure on the porch: if it was a woman you saw that night -through the window, we might start with other premises. Or Mr. -Innes' explanation may turn us in a new direction. It is -possible that he shot Arnold Armstrong as a burglar and then -fled, frightened at what he had done. In any case, however, I -feel confident that the body was here when he left. Mr. -Armstrong left the club ostensibly for a moonlight saunter, about -half after eleven o'clock. It was three when the shot was -fired." - -I leaned back bewildered. It seemed to me that the evening had -been full of significant happenings, had I only held the key. -Had Gertrude been the fugitive in the clothes chute? Who was the -man on the drive near the lodge, and whose gold-mounted dressing- -bag had I seen in the lodge sitting-room? - -It was late when Mr. Jamieson finally got up to go. I went with -him to the door, and together we stood looking out over the -valley. Below lay the village of Casanova, with its Old World -houses, its blossoming trees and its peace. Above on the hill -across the valley were the lights of the Greenwood Club. It was -even possible to see the curving row of parallel lights that -marked the carriage road. Rumors that I had heard about the club -came back--of drinking, of high play, and once, a year ago, of a -suicide under those very lights. - -Mr. Jamieson left, taking a short cut to the village, and I still -stood there. It must have been after eleven, and the monotonous -tick of the big clock on the stairs behind me was the only sound. - -Then I was conscious that some one was running up the drive. In -a minute a woman darted into the area of light made by the open -door, and caught me by the arm. It was Rosie--Rosie in a state -of collapse from terror, and, not the least important, clutching -one of my Coalport plates and a silver spoon. - -She stood staring into the darkness behind, still holding the -plate. I got her into the house and secured the plate; then I -stood and looked down at her where she crouched tremblingly -against the doorway. - -"Well," I asked, "didn't your young man enjoy his meal?" - -She couldn't speak. She looked at the spoon she still held--I -wasn't so anxious about it: thank Heaven, it wouldn't chip--and -then she stared at me. - -"I appreciate your desire to have everything nice for him," I -went on, "but the next time, you might take the Limoges china -It's more easily duplicated and less expensive." - -"I haven't a young man--not here." She had got her breath now, -as I had guessed she would. "I--I have been chased by a thief, -Miss Innes." - -"Did he chase you out of the house and back again?" I asked. - -Then Rosie began to cry--not silently, but noisily, hysterically. - -I stopped her by giving her a good shake. - -"What in the world is the matter with you?" I snapped. "Has the -day of good common sense gone by! Sit up and tell me the whole -thing." Rosie sat up then, and sniffled. - -"I was coming up the drive--" she began. - -"You must start with when you went DOWN the drive, with my -dishes and my silver," I interrupted, but, seeing more signs of -hysteria, I gave in. "Very well. You were coming up the drive--" - -"I had a basket of--of silver and dishes on my arm and I was -carrying the plate, because--because I was afraid I'd break it. -Part-way up the road a man stepped out of the bushes, and held -his arm like this, spread out, so I couldn't get past. He said-- -he said--`Not so fast, young lady; I want you to let me see -what's in that basket.'" - -She got up in her excitement and took hold of my arm. - -"It was like this, Miss Innes," she said, "and say you was the -man. When he said that, I screamed and ducked under his arm like -this. He caught at the basket and I dropped it. I ran as fast -as I could, and he came after as far as the trees. Then he -stopped. Oh, Miss Innes, it must have been the man that killed -that Mr. Armstrong!" - -"Don't be foolish," I said. "Whoever killed Mr. Armstrong would -put as much space between himself and this house as he could. Go -up to bed now; and mind, if I hear of this story being repeated -to the other maids, I shall deduct from your wages for every -broken dish I find in the drive." - -I listened to Rosie as she went up-stairs, running past the -shadowy places and slamming her door. Then I sat down and looked -at the Coalport plate and the silver spoon. I had brought my own -china and silver, and, from all appearances, I would have little -enough to take back. But though I might jeer at Rosie as much as -I wished, the fact remained that some one had been on the drive -that night who had no business there. Although neither had -Rosie, for that matter. - -I could fancy Liddy's face when she missed the extra pieces of -china--she had opposed Rosie from the start. If Liddy once finds -a prophecy fulfilled, especially an unpleasant one, she never -allows me to forget it. It seemed to me that it was absurd to -leave that china dotted along the road for her to spy the next -morning; so with a sudden resolution, I opened the door again and -stepped out into the darkness. As the door closed behind me I -half regretted my impulse; then I shut my teeth and went on. - -I have never been a nervous woman, as I said before. Moreover, a -minute or two in the darkness enabled me to see things fairly -well. Beulah gave me rather a start by rubbing unexpectedly -against my feet; then we two, side by side, went down the drive. - -There were no fragments of china, but where the grove began I -picked up a silver spoon. So far Rosie's story was borne out: I -began to wonder if it were not indiscreet, to say the least, this -midnight prowling in a neighborhood with such a deservedly bad -reputation. Then I saw something gleaming, which proved to be -the handle of a cup, and a step or two farther on I found a V- -shaped bit of a plate. But the most surprising thing of all was -to find the basket sitting comfortably beside the road, with the -rest of the broken crockery piled neatly within, and a handful of -small silver, spoon, forks, and the like, on top! I could only -stand and stare. Then Rosie's story was true. But where had -Rosie carried her basket? And why had the thief, if he were a -thief, picked up the broken china out of the road and left it, -with his booty? - -It was with my nearest approach to a nervous collapse that I -heard the familiar throbbing of an automobile engine. As it came -closer I recognized the outline of the Dragon Fly, and knew -that Halsey had come back. - -Strange enough it must have seemed to Halsey, too, to come across -me in the middle of the night, with the skirt of my gray silk -gown over my shoulders to keep off the dew, holding a red and -green basket under one arm and a black cat under the other. What -with relief and joy, I began to cry, right there, and very nearly -wiped my eyes on Beulah in the excitement. - - - -CHAPTER IX - -JUST LIKE A GIRL - -"Aunt Ray!" Halsey said from the gloom behind the lamps. "What -in the world are you doing here?" - -"Taking a walk," I said, trying to be composed. I don't think -the answer struck either of us as being ridiculous at the time. -"Oh, Halsey, where have you been?" - -"Let me take you up to the house." He was in the road, and had -Beulah and the basket out of my arms in a moment. I could see -the car plainly now, and Warner was at the wheel--Warner in an -ulster and a pair of slippers, over Heaven knows what. Jack -Bailey was not there. I got in, and we went slowly and painfully -up to the house. - -We did not talk. What we had to say was too important to -commence there, and, besides, it took all kinds of coaxing from -both men to get the Dragon Fly up the last grade. Only -when we had closed the front door and stood facing each other in -the hall, did Halsey say anything. He slipped his strong young -arm around my shoulders and turned me so I faced the light. - -"Poor Aunt Ray!" he said gently. And I nearly wept again. "I--I -must see Gertrude, too; we will have a three-cornered talk." - -And then Gertrude herself came down the stairs. She had not been -to bed, evidently: she still wore the white negligee she had worn -earlier in the evening, and she limped somewhat. During her slow -progress down the stairs I had time to notice one thing: Mr. -Jamieson had said the woman who escaped from the cellar had worn -no shoe on her right foot. Gertrude's right ankle was the one -she had sprained! - -The meeting between brother and sister was tense, but without -tears. Halsey kissed her tenderly, and I noticed evidences of -strain and anxiety in both young faces. - -"Is everything--right?" she asked. - -"Right as can be," with forced cheerfulness. - -I lighted the living-room and we went in there. Only a half-hour -before I had sat with Mr. Jamieson in that very room, -listening while he overtly accused both Gertrude and Halsey of at -least a knowledge of the death of Arnold Armstrong. Now Halsey -was here to speak for himself: I should learn everything that -had puzzled me. - -"I saw it in the paper to-night for the first time," he was -saying. "It knocked me dumb. When I think of this houseful of -women, and a thing like that occurring!" - -Gertrude's face was still set and white. "That isn't all, -Halsey," she said. "You and--and Jack left almost at the time it -happened. The detective here thinks that you--that we--know -something about it." - -"The devil he does!" Halsey's eyes were fairly starting from his -head. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Ray, but--the fellow's a -lunatic." - -"Tell me everything, won't you, Halsey?" I begged. "Tell me -where you went that night, or rather morning, and why you went as -you did. This has been a terrible forty-eight hours for all of -us." - -He stood staring at me, and I could see the horror of the -situation dawning in his face. - -"I can't tell you where I went, Aunt Ray," he said, after a -moment. "As to why, you will learn that soon enough. But -Gertrude knows that Jack and I left the house before this thing-- -this horrible murder--occurred." - -"Mr. Jamieson does not believe me," Gertrude said drearily. -"Halsey, if the worst comes, if they should arrest you, you -must--tell." - -"I shall tell nothing," he said with a new sternness in his -voice. "Aunt Ray, it was necessary for Jack and me to leave that -night. I can not tell you why--just yet. As to where we went, -if I have to depend on that as an alibi, I shall not tell. The -whole thing is an absurdity, a trumped-up charge that can not -possibly be serious." - -"Has Mr. Bailey gone back to the city," I demanded, "or to the -club?" - -"Neither," defiantly; "at the present moment I do not know where -he is." - -"Halsey," I asked gravely, leaning forward, "have you the -slightest suspicion who killed Arnold Armstrong? The police -think he was admitted from within, and that he was shot down from -above, by someone on the circular staircase." - -"I know nothing of it," he maintained; but I fancied I caught -a sudden glance at Gertrude, a flash of something that died as it -came. - -As quietly, as calmly as I could, I went over the whole story, -from the night Liddy and I had been alone up to the strange -experience of Rosie and her pursuer. The basket still stood on -the table, a mute witness to this last mystifying occurrence. - -"There is something else," I said hesitatingly, at the last. -"Halsey, I have never told this even to Gertrude, but the morning -after the crime, I found, in a tulip bed, a revolver. It--it was -yours, Halsey." - -For an appreciable moment Halsey stared at me. Then he turned to -Gertrude. - -"My revolver, Trude!" he exclaimed. "Why, Jack took my revolver -with him, didn't he?" - -"Oh, for Heaven's sake don't say that," I implored. "The -detective thinks possibly Jack Bailey came back, and--and the -thing happened then." - -"He didn't come back," Halsey said sternly. "Gertrude, when you -brought down a revolver that night for Jack to take with him, -what one did you bring? Mine?" - -Gertrude was defiant now. - -"No. Yours was loaded, and I was afraid of what Jack might -do. I gave him one I have had for a year or two. It was empty." - -Halsey threw up both hands despairingly. - -"If that isn't like a girl!" he said. "Why didn't you do what I -asked you to, Gertrude? You send Bailey off with an empty gun, -and throw mine in a tulip bed, of all places on earth! Mine was -a thirty-eight caliber. The inquest will show, of course, that -the bullet that killed Armstrong was a thirty-eight. Then where -shall I be?" - -"You forget," I broke in, "that I have the revolver, and that no -one knows about it." - - -But Gertrude had risen angrily. - -"I can not stand it; it is always with me," she cried. "Halsey, -I did not throw your revolver into the tulip bed. I--think-- -you--did it--yourself!" - -They stared at each other across the big library table, with -young eyes all at once hard, suspicious. And then Gertrude held -out both hands to him appealingly. - -"We must not," she said brokenly. "Just now, with so much at -stake, it--is shameful. I know you are as ignorant as I am. -Make me believe it, Halsey." - -Halsey soothed her as best he could, and the breach seemed -healed. But long after I went to bed he sat down-stairs in the -living-room alone, and I knew he was going over the case as he -had learned it. Some things were clear to him that were dark to -me. He knew, and Gertrude, too, why Jack Bailey and he had gone -away that night, as they did. He knew where they had been for -the last forty-eight hours, and why Jack Bailey had not returned -with him. It seemed to me that without fuller confidence from -both the children--they are always children to me--I should never -be able to learn anything. - -As I was finally getting ready for bed, Halsey came up-stairs and -knocked at my door. When I had got into a negligee--I used to -say wrapper before Gertrude came back from school--I let him in. -He stood in the doorway a moment, and then he went into agonies -of silent mirth. I sat down on the side of the bed and waited in -severe silence for him to stop, but he only seemed to grow worse. - -When he had recovered he took me by the elbow and pulled me in -front of the mirror. - -"`How to be beautiful,'" he quoted. "`Advice to maids and -matrons,' by Beatrice Fairfax!" And then I saw myself. I -had neglected to remove my wrinkle eradicators, and I presume my -appearance was odd. I believe that it is a woman's duty to care -for her looks, but it is much like telling a necessary -falsehood--one must not be found out. By the time I got them off -Halsey was serious again, and I listened to his story. - -"Aunt Ray," he began, extinguishing his cigarette on the back of -my ivory hair-brush, "I would give a lot to tell you the whole -thing. But--I can't, for a day or so, anyhow. But one thing I -might have told you a long time ago. If you had known it, you -would not have suspected me for a moment of--of having anything -to do with the attack on Arnold Armstrong. Goodness knows what I -might do to a fellow like that, if there was enough provocation, -and I had a gun in my hand--under ordinary circumstances. But--I -care a great deal about Louise Armstrong, Aunt Ray. I hope to -marry her some day. Is it likely I would kill her brother?" - -"Her stepbrother," I corrected. "No, of course, it isn't likely, -or possible. Why didn't you tell me, Halsey?" - -"Well, there were two reasons," he said slowly. - -"One was that you had a girl already picked out for me--" - -"Nonsense," I broke in, and felt myself growing red. I had, -indeed, one of the--but no matter. - -"And the second reason," he pursued, "was that the Armstrongs -would have none of me." - -I sat bolt upright at that and gasped. - -"The Armstrongs!" I repeated. "With old Peter Armstrong driving -a stage across the mountains while your grandfather was war -governor--" - -"Well, of course, the war governor's dead, and out of the -matrimonial market," Halsey interrupted. "And the present Innes -admits himself he isn't good enough for--for Louise." - -"Exactly," I said despairingly, "and, of course, you are taken at -your own valuation. The Inneses are not always so self- -depreciatory." - -"Not always, no," he said, looking at me with his boyish smile. -"Fortunately, Louise doesn't agree with her family. She's -willing to take me, war governor or no, provided her mother -consents. She isn't overly-fond of her stepfather, but she -adores her mother. And now, can't you see where this thing puts -me? Down and out, with all of them." - -"But the whole thing is absurd," I argued. "And besides, -Gertrude's sworn statement that you left before Arnold Armstrong -came would clear you at once." - -Halsey got up and began to pace the room, and the air of -cheerfulness dropped like a mask. - -"She can't swear it," he said finally. "Gertrude's story was -true as far as it went, but she didn't tell everything. Arnold -Armstrong came here at two-thirty--came into the billiard-room -and left in five minutes. He came to bring--something." - -"Halsey," I cried, "you MUST tell me the whole truth. Every -time I see a way for you to escape you block it yourself with -this wall of mystery. What did he bring?" - -"A telegram--for Bailey," he said. "It came by special messenger -from town, and was--most important. Bailey had started for here, -and the messenger had gone back to the city. The steward gave it -to Arnold, who had been drinking all day and couldn't sleep, and -was going for a stroll in the direction of Sunnyside." - -"And he brought it?" - -"Yes." - -"What was in the telegram?" - -"I can tell you--as soon as certain things are made public. It -is only a matter of days now," gloomily. - -"And Gertrude's story of a telephone message?" - -"Poor Trude!" he half whispered. "Poor loyal little girl! Aunt -Ray, there was no such message. No doubt your detective already -knows that and discredits all Gertrude told him." - -"And when she went back, it was to get--the telegram?" - -"Probably," Halsey said slowly. "When you get to thinking about -it, Aunt Ray, it looks bad for all three of us, doesn't it? And -yet--I will take my oath none of us even inadvertently killed -that poor devil." - -I looked at the closed door into Gertrude's dressing-room, and -lowered my voice. - -"The same horrible thought keeps recurring to me," I whispered. -"Halsey, Gertrude probably had your revolver: she must have -examined it, anyhow, that night. After you--and Jack had gone, -what if that ruffian came back, and she--and she--" - -I couldn't finish. Halsey stood looking at me with shut lips. - -"She might have heard him fumbling at the door he had no key, -the police say--and thinking it was you, or Jack, she admitted -him. When she saw her mistake she ran up the stairs, a step or -two, and turning, like an animal at bay, she fired." - -Halsey had his hand over my lips before I finished, and in that -position we stared each at the other, our stricken glances -crossing. - -"The revolver--my revolver--thrown into the tulip bed!" he -muttered to himself. "Thrown perhaps from an upper window: you -say it was buried deep. Her prostration ever since, her--Aunt -Ray, you don't think it was Gertrude who fell down the clothes -chute?" - -I could only nod my head in a hopeless affirmative. - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE TRADERS BANK - -The morning after Halsey's return was Tuesday. Arnold Armstrong -had been found dead at the foot of the circular staircase at -three o'clock on Sunday morning. The funeral services were to be -held on Tuesday, and the interment of the body was to be deferred -until the Armstrongs arrived from California. No one, I think, -was very sorry that Arnold Armstrong was dead, but the manner of -his death aroused some sympathy and an enormous amount of -curiosity. Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh, a cousin, took charge of the -arrangements, and everything, I believe, was as quiet as -possible. I gave Thomas Johnson and Mrs. Watson permission to go -into town to pay their last respects to the dead man, but for -some reason they did not care to go. - -Halsey spent part of the day with Mr. Jamieson, but he said -nothing of what happened. He looked grave and anxious, -and he had a long conversation with Gertrude late in the -afternoon. - -Tuesday evening found us quiet, with the quiet that precedes an -explosion. Gertrude and Halsey were both gloomy and distraught, -and as Liddy had already discovered that some of the china was -broken--it is impossible to have any secrets from an old -servant--I was not in a pleasant humor myself. Warner brought up -the afternoon mail and the evening papers at seven--I was curious -to know what the papers said of the murder. We had turned away -at least a dozen reporters. But I read over the head-line that -ran half-way across the top of the Gazette twice before I -comprehended it. Halsey had opened the Chronicle and was -staring at it fixedly. - -"The Traders' Bank closes its doors!" was what I read, and then I -put down the paper and looked across the table. - -"Did you know of this?" I asked Halsey. - -"I expected it. But not so soon," he replied. - -"And you?" to Gertrude. - -"Jack--told us--something," Gertrude said faintly. "Oh, Halsey, -what can he do now?" - -"Jack!" I said scornfully. "Your Jack's flight is easy -enough to explain now. And you helped him, both of you, to get -away! You get that from your mother; it isn't an Innes trait. -Do you know that every dollar you have, both of you, is in that -bank?" - -Gertrude tried to speak, but Halsey stopped her. - -"That isn't all, Gertrude," he said quietly; "Jack is--under -arrest." - -"Under arrest!" Gertrude screamed, and tore the paper out of his -hand. She glanced at the heading, then she crumpled the -newspaper into a ball and flung it to the floor. While Halsey, -looking stricken and white, was trying to smooth it out and read -it, Gertrude had dropped her head on the table and was sobbing -stormily. - -I have the clipping somewhere, but just now I can remember only -the essentials. - -On the afternoon before, Monday, while the Traders' Bank was in -the rush of closing hour, between two and three, Mr. Jacob -Trautman, President of the Pearl Brewing Company, came into the -bank to lift a loan. As security for the loan he had deposited -some three hundred International Steamship Company 5's, in total -value three hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Trautman went to the -loan clerk and, after certain formalities had been gone -through, the loan clerk went to the vault. Mr. Trautman, who was -a large and genial German, waited for a time, whistling under his -breath. The loan clerk did not come back. After an interval, -Mr. Trautman saw the loan clerk emerge from the vault and go to -the assistant cashier: the two went hurriedly to the vault. A -lapse of another ten minutes, and the assistant cashier came out -and approached Mr. Trautman. He was noticeably white and -trembling. Mr. Trautman was told that through an oversight the -bonds had been misplaced, and was asked to return the following -morning, when everything would be made all right. - -Mr. Trautman, however, was a shrewd business man, and he did not -like the appearance of things. He left the bank apparently -satisfied, and within thirty minutes he had called up three -different members of the Traders' Board of Directors. At three- -thirty there was a hastily convened board meeting, with some -stormy scenes, and late in the afternoon a national bank examiner -was in possession of the books. The bank had not opened for -business on Tuesday. - -At twelve-thirty o'clock the Saturday before, as soon as the -business of the day was closed, Mr. John Bailey, the cashier -of the defunct bank, had taken his hat and departed. During the -afternoon he had called up Mr. Aronson, a member of the board, -and said he was ill, and might not be at the bank for a day or -two. As Bailey was highly thought of, Mr. Aronson merely -expressed a regret. From that time until Monday night, when Mr. -Bailey had surrendered to the police, little was known of his -movements. Some time after one on Saturday he had entered the -Western Union office at Cherry and White Streets and had sent two -telegrams. He was at the Greenwood Country Club on Saturday -night, and appeared unlike himself. It was reported that he -would be released under enormous bond, some time that day, -Tuesday. - -The article closed by saying that while the officers of the bank -refused to talk until the examiner had finished his work, it was -known that securities aggregating a million and a quarter were -missing. Then there was a diatribe on the possibility of such an -occurrence; on the folly of a one-man bank, and of a Board of -Directors that met only to lunch together and to listen to a -brief report from the cashier, and on the poor policy of a -government that arranges a three or four-day examination twice a -year. The mystery, it insinuated, had not been cleared by -the arrest of the cashier. Before now minor officials had been -used to cloak the misdeeds of men higher up. Inseparable as the -words "speculation" and "peculation" have grown to be, John -Bailey was not known to be in the stock market. His only words, -after his surrender, had been "Send for Mr. Armstrong at once." -The telegraph message which had finally reached the President of -the Traders' Bank, in an interior town in California, had been -responded to by a telegram from Doctor Walker, the young -physician who was traveling with the Armstrong family, saying -that Paul Armstrong was very ill and unable to travel. - -That was how things stood that Tuesday evening. The Traders' -Bank had suspended payment, and John Bailey was under arrest, -charged with wrecking it; Paul Armstrong lay very ill in -California, and his only son had been murdered two days before. -I sat dazed and bewildered. The children's money was gone: that -was bad enough, though I had plenty, if they would let me share. -But Gertrude's grief was beyond any power of mine to comfort; the -man she had chosen stood accused of a colossal embezzlement--and -even worse. For in the instant that I sat there I seemed to -see the coils closing around John Bailey as the murderer of -Arnold Armstrong. - -Gertrude lifted her head at last and stared across the table at -Halsey. - -"Why did he do it?" she wailed. "Couldn't you stop him, Halsey? -It was suicidal to go back!" - -Halsey was looking steadily through the windows of the breakfast- -room, but it was evident he saw nothing. - -"It was the only thing he could do, Trude," he said at last. -"Aunt Ray, when I found Jack at the Greenwood Club last Saturday -night, he was frantic. I can not talk until Jack tells me I may, -but--he is absolutely innocent of all this, believe me. I -thought, Trude and I thought, we were helping him, but it was the -wrong way. He came back. Isn't that the act of an innocent -man?" - -"Then why did he leave at all?" I asked, unconvinced. "What -innocent man would run away from here at three o'clock in the -morning? Doesn't it look rather as though he thought it -impossible to escape?" - -Gertrude rose angrily. "You are not even just!" she flamed. -"You don't know anything about it, and you condemn him!" - -"I know that we have all lost a great deal of money," I said. "I -shall believe Mr. Bailey innocent the moment he is shown to be. -You profess to know the truth, but you can not tell me! What am -I to think?" - -Halsey leaned over and patted my hand. - -"You must take us on faith," he said. "Jack Bailey hasn't a -penny that doesn't belong to him; the guilty man will be known in -a day or so." - -"I shall believe that when it is proved," I said grimly. "In the -meantime, I take no one on faith. The Inneses never do." - -Gertrude, who had been standing aloof at a window, turned -suddenly. "But when the bonds are offered for sale, Halsey, -won't the thief be detected at once?" - -Halsey turned with a superior smile. - -"It wouldn't be done that way," he said. "They would be taken -out of the vault by some one who had access to it, and used as -collateral for a loan in another bank. It would be possible to -realize eighty per cent. of their face value." - -"In cash?" - -"In cash." - -"But the man who did it--he would be known?" - -"Yes. I tell you both, as sure as I stand here, I believe that -Paul Armstrong looted his own bank. I believe he has a million -at least, as the result, and that he will never come back. I'm -worse than a pauper now. I can't ask Louise to share nothing a -year with me and when I think of this disgrace for her, I'm -crazy." - -The most ordinary events of life seemed pregnant with -possibilities that day, and when Halsey was called to the -telephone, I ceased all pretense at eating. When he came back -from the telephone his face showed that something had occurred. -He waited, however, until Thomas left the dining-room: then he -told us. - -"Paul Armstrong is dead," he announced gravely. "He died this -morning in California. Whatever he did, he is beyond the law -now." - -Gertrude turned pale. - -"And the only man who could have cleared Jack can never do it!" -she said despairingly. - -"Also," I replied coldly, "Mr. Armstrong is for ever beyond the -power of defending himself. When your Jack comes to me, with -some two hundred thousand dollars in his hands, which is about -what you have lost, I shall believe him innocent." - -Halsey threw his cigarette away and turned on me. - -"There you go!" he exclaimed. "If he was the thief, he could -return the money, of course. If he is innocent, he probably -hasn't a tenth of that amount in the world. In his hands! -That's like a woman." - -Gertrude, who had been pale and despairing during the early part -of the conversation, had flushed an indignant red. She got up -and drew herself to her slender height, looking down at me with -the scorn of the young and positive. - -"You are the only mother I ever had," she said tensely. "I have -given you all I would have given my mother, had she lived--my -love, my trust. And now, when I need you most, you fail me. I -tell you, John Bailey is a good man, an honest man. If you say -he is not, you--you--" - -"Gertrude," Halsey broke in sharply. She dropped beside the -table and, burying her face in her arms broke into a storm of -tears. - -"I love him--love him," she sobbed, in a surrender that was -totally unlike her. "Oh, I never thought it would be like this. -I can't bear it. I can't." - -Halsey and I stood helpless before the storm. I would have tried -to comfort her, but she had put me away, and there was something -aloof in her grief, something new and strange. At last, when her -sorrow had subsided to the dry shaking sobs of a tired child, -without raising her head she put out one groping hand. - -"Aunt Ray!" she whispered. In a moment I was on my knees beside -her, her arm around my neck, her cheek against my hair. - -"Where am I in this?" Halsey said suddenly and tried to put his -arms around us both. It was a welcome distraction, and Gertrude -was soon herself again. The little storm had cleared the air. -Nevertheless, my opinion remained unchanged. There was much to -be cleared up before I would consent to any renewal of my -acquaintance with John Bailey. And Halsey and Gertrude knew it, -knowing me. - - - -CHAPTER XI - -HALSEY MAKES A CAPTURE - -It was about half-past eight when we left the dining-room and -still engrossed with one subject, the failure of the bank and its -attendant evils Halsey and I went out into the grounds for a -stroll Gertrude followed us shortly. "The light was thickening," -to appropriate Shakespeare's description of twilight, and once -again the tree-toads and the crickets were making night throb -with their tiny life. It was almost oppressively lonely, in -spite of its beauty, and I felt a sickening pang of homesickness -for my city at night--for the clatter of horses' feet on cemented -paving, for the lights, the voices, the sound of children -playing. The country after dark oppresses me. The stars, quite -eclipsed in the city by the electric lights, here become -insistent, assertive. Whether I want to or not, I find myself -looking for the few I know by name, and feeling ridiculously -new and small by contrast--always an unpleasant -sensation. - -After Gertrude joined us, we avoided any further mention of the -murder. To Halsey, as to me, there was ever present, I am sure, -the thought of our conversation of the night before. As we -strolled back and forth along the drive, Mr. Jamieson emerged -from the shadow of the trees. - -"Good evening," he said, managing to include Gertrude in his bow. - -Gertrude had never been even ordinarily courteous to him, and she -nodded coldly. Halsey, however, was more cordial, although we -were all constrained enough. He and Gertrude went on together, -leaving the detective to walk with me. As soon as they were out -of earshot, he turned to me. - -"Do you know, Miss Innes," he said, "the deeper I go into this -thing, the more strange it seems to me. I am very sorry for Miss -Gertrude. It looks as if Bailey, whom she has tried so hard to -save, is worse than a rascal; and after her plucky fight for him, -it seems hard." - -I looked through the dusk to where Gertrude's light dinner dress -gleamed among the trees. She HAD made a plucky fight, poor -child. Whatever she might have been driven to do, I could -find nothing but a deep sympathy for her. If she had only come -to me with the whole truth then! - -"Miss Innes," Mr. Jamieson was saying, "in the last three days, -have you seen a--any suspicious figures around the grounds? -Any--woman?" - -"No," I replied. "I have a houseful of maids that will bear -watching, one and all. But there has been no strange woman near -the house or Liddy would have seen her, you may be sure. She has -a telescopic eye." - -Mr. Jamieson looked thoughtful. - -"It may not amount to anything," he said slowly. "It is -difficult to get any perspective on things around here, because -every one down in the village is sure he saw the murderer, either -before or since the crime. And half of them will stretch a point -or two as to facts, to be obliging. But the man who drives the -hack down there tells a story that may possibly prove to be -important." - -"I have heard it, I think. Was it the one the parlor maid -brought up yesterday, about a ghost wringing its hands on the -roof? Or perhaps it's the one the milk-boy heard: a tramp -washing a dirty shirt, presumably bloody, in the creek below the -bridge?" - -I could see the gleam of Mr. Jamieson's teeth, as he smiled. - -"Neither," he said. "But Matthew Geist, which is our friend's -name, claims that on Saturday night, at nine-thirty, a veiled -lady--" - -"I knew it would be a veiled lady," I broke in. - -"A veiled lady," he persisted, "who was apparently young and -beautiful, engaged his hack and asked to be driven to Sunnyside. -Near the gate, however, she made him stop, in spite of his -remonstrances, saying she preferred to walk to the house. She -paid him, and he left her there. Now, Miss Innes, you had no -such visitor, I believe?" - -"None," I said decidedly. - -"Geist thought it might be a maid, as you had got a supply that -day. But he said her getting out near the gate puzzled him. -Anyhow, we have now one veiled lady, who, with the ghostly -intruder of Friday night, makes two assets that I hardly know -what to do with." - -"It is mystifying," I admitted, "although I can think of one -possible explanation. The path from the Greenwood Club to the -village enters the road near the lodge gate. A woman who wished -to reach the Country Club, unperceived, might choose such a -method. There are plenty of women there." - -I think this gave him something to ponder, for in a short time he -said good night and left. But I myself was far from satisfied. -I was determined, however, on one thing. If my suspicions--for I -had suspicions--were true, I would make my own investigations, -and Mr. Jamieson should learn only what was good for him to know. - -We went back to the house, and Gertrude, who was more like -herself since her talk with Halsey, sat down at the mahogany desk -in the living-room to write a letter. Halsey prowled up and down -the entire east wing, now in the card-room, now in the billiard- -room, and now and then blowing his clouds of tobacco smoke among -the pink and gold hangings of the drawing-room. After a little I -joined him in the billiard-room, and together we went over the -details of the discovery of the body. - -The card-room was quite dark. Where we sat, in the billiard- -room, only one of the side brackets was lighted, and we spoke in -subdued tones, as the hour and the subject seemed to demand. -When I spoke of the figure Liddy and I had seen on the porch -through the card-room window Friday night, Halsey sauntered -into the darkened room, and together we stood there, much as -Liddy and I had done that other night. - -The window was the same grayish rectangle in the blackness as -before. A few feet away in the hall was the spot where the body -of Arnold Armstrong had been found. I was a bit nervous, and I -put my hand on Halsey's sleeve. Suddenly, from the top of the -staircase above us came the sound of a cautious footstep. At -first I was not sure, but Halsey's attitude told me he had heard -and was listening. The step, slow, measured, infinitely -cautious, was nearer now. Halsey tried to loosen my fingers, but -I was in a paralysis of fright. - -The swish of a body against the curving rail, as if for guidance, -was plain enough, and now whoever it was had reached the foot of -the staircase and had caught a glimpse of our rigid silhouettes -against the billiard-room doorway. Halsey threw me off then and -strode forward. - -"Who is it?" he called imperiously, and took a half dozen rapid -strides toward the foot of the staircase. Then I heard him -mutter something; there was the crash of a falling body, the slam -of the outer door, and, for an instant, quiet. I screamed, -I think. Then I remember turning on the lights and finding -Halsey, white with fury, trying to untangle himself from -something warm and fleecy. He had cut his forehead a little on -the lowest step of the stairs, and he was rather a ghastly sight. - -He flung the white object at me, and, jerking open the outer -door, raced into the darkness. - -Gertrude had come on hearing the noise, and now we stood, staring -at each other over--of all things on earth--a white silk and wool -blanket, exquisitely fine! It was the most unghostly thing in -the world, with its lavender border and its faint scent. -Gertrude was the first to speak. - -"Somebody--had it?" she asked. - -"Yes. Halsey tried to stop whoever it was and fell. Gertrude, -that blanket is not mine. I have never seen before." - -She held it up and looked at it: then she went to the door on to -the veranda and threw it open. Perhaps a hundred feet from the -house were two figures, that moved slowly toward us as we looked. - -When they came within range of the light, I recognized Halsey, -and with him Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper. - - - -CHAPTER XII - -ONE MYSTERY FOR ANOTHER - -The most commonplace incident takes on a new appearance if the -attendant circumstances are unusual. There was no reason on -earth why Mrs. Watson should not have carried a blanket down the -east wing staircase, if she so desired. But to take a blanket -down at eleven o'clock at night, with every precaution as to -noise, and, when discovered, to fling it at Halsey and bolt-- -Halsey's word, and a good one--into the grounds,--this made the -incident more than significant. - -They moved slowly across the lawn and up the steps. Halsey was -talking quietly, and Mrs. Watson was looking down and listening. -She was a woman of a certain amount of dignity, most efficient, -so far as I could see, although Liddy would have found fault if -she dared. But just now Mrs. Watson's face was an enigma. She -was defiant, I think, under her mask of submission, and -she still showed the effect of nervous shock. - -"Mrs. Watson," I said severely, "will you be so good as to -explain this rather unusual occurrence?" - -"I don't think it so unusual, Miss Innes." Her voice was deep -and very clear: just now it was somewhat tremulous. "I was -taking a blanket down to Thomas, who is--not well to-night, and I -used this staircase, as being nearer the path to the lodge When-- -Mr. Innes called and then rushed at me, I--I was alarmed, and -flung the blanket at him." - -Halsey was examining the cut on his forehead in a small mirror on -the wall. It was not much of an injury, but it had bled freely, -and his appearance was rather terrifying. - -"Thomas ill?" he said, over his shoulder. "Why, _I_ thought I -saw Thomas out there as you made that cyclonic break out of the -door and over the porch." - -I could see that under pretense of examining his injury he was -watching her through the mirror. - -"Is this one of the servants' blankets, Mrs. Watson?" I asked, -holding up its luxurious folds to the light. - -"Everything else is locked away," she replied. Which was -true enough, no doubt. I had rented the house without bed -furnishings. - -"If Thomas is ill," Halsey said, "some member of the family ought -to go down to see him. You needn't bother, Mrs. Watson. I will -take the blanket." - -She drew herself up quickly, as if in protest, but she found -nothing to say. She stood smoothing the folds of her dead black -dress, her face as white as chalk above it. Then she seemed to -make up her mind. - -"Very well, Mr. Innes," she said. "Perhaps you would better go. -I have done all I could." - -And then she turned and went up the circular staircase, moving -slowly and with a certain dignity. Below, the three of us stared -at one another across the intervening white blanket. - -"Upon my word," Halsey broke out, "this place is a walking -nightmare. I have the feeling that we three outsiders who have -paid our money for the privilege of staying in this spook- -factory, are living on the very top of things. We're on the lid, -so to speak. Now and then we get a sight of the things inside, -but we are not a part of them." - -"Do you suppose," Gertrude asked doubtfully, "that she really -meant that blanket for Thomas?" - -"Thomas was standing beside that magnolia tree," Halsey replied, -"when I ran after Mrs. Watson. It's down to this, Aunt Ray. -Rosie's basket and Mrs. Watson's blanket can only mean one thing: -there is somebody hiding or being hidden in the lodge. It -wouldn't surprise me if we hold the key to the whole situation -now. Anyhow, I'm going to the lodge to investigate." - -Gertrude wanted to go, too, but she looked so shaken that I -insisted she should not. I sent for Liddy to help her to bed, -and then Halsey and I started for the lodge. The grass was heavy -with dew, and, man-like, Halsey chose the shortest way across the -lawn. Half-way, however, he stopped. - -"We'd better go by the drive," he said. "This isn't a lawn; it's -a field. Where's the gardener these days?" - -"There isn't any," I said meekly. "We have been thankful enough, -so far, to have our meals prepared and served and the beds aired. -The gardener who belongs here is working at the club." - -"Remind me to-morrow to send out a man from town," he said. "I -know the very fellow." - -I record this scrap of conversation, just as I have tried to -put down anything and everything that had a bearing on what -followed, because the gardener Halsey sent the next day played an -important part in the events of the next few weeks--events that -culminated, as you know, by stirring the country profoundly. At -that time, however, I was busy trying to keep my skirts dry, and -paid little or no attention to what seemed then a most trivial -remark. - -Along the drive I showed Halsey where I had found Rosie's basket -with the bits of broken china piled inside. He was rather -skeptical. - -"Warner probably," he said when I had finished. "Began it as a -joke on Rosie, and ended by picking up the broken china out of -the road, knowing it would play hob with the tires of the car." -Which shows how near one can come to the truth, and yet miss it -altogether. - -At the lodge everything was quiet. There was a light in the -sitting-room down-stairs, and a faint gleam, as if from a shaded -lamp, in one of the upper rooms. Halsey stopped and examined the -lodge with calculating eyes. - -"I don't know, Aunt Ray," he said dubiously; "this is hardly a -woman's affair. If there's a scrap of any kind, you hike -for the timber." Which was Halsey's solicitous care for me, put -into vernacular. - -"I shall stay right here," I said, and crossing the small -veranda, now shaded and fragrant with honeysuckle, I hammered the -knocker on the door. - -Thomas opened the door himself--Thomas, fully dressed and in his -customary health. I had the blanket over my arm. - -"I brought the blanket, Thomas," I said; "I am sorry you are so -ill." - -The old man stood staring at me and then at the blanket. His -confusion under other circumstances would have been ludicrous. - -"What! Not ill?" Halsey said from the step. "Thomas, I'm afraid -you've been malingering." - -Thomas seemed to have been debating something with himself. Now -he stepped out on the porch and closed the door gently behind -him. - -"I reckon you bettah come in, Mis' Innes," he said, speaking -cautiously. "It's got so I dunno what to do, and it's boun' to -come out some time er ruther." - -He threw the door open then, and I stepped inside, Halsey close -behind. In the sitting-room the old negro turned with quiet -dignity to Halsey. - -"You bettah sit down, sah," he said. "It's a place for a woman, -sah." - -Things were not turning out the way Halsey expected. He sat down -on the center-table, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and -watched me as I followed Thomas up the narrow stairs. At the top -a woman was standing, and a second glance showed me it was Rosie. - -She shrank back a little, but I said nothing. And then Thomas -motioned to a partly open door, and I went in. - -The lodge boasted three bedrooms up-stairs, all comfortably -furnished. In this one, the largest and airiest, a night lamp -was burning, and by its light I could make out a plain white -metal bed. A girl was asleep there--or in a half stupor, for she -muttered something now and then. Rosie had taken her courage in -her hands, and coming in had turned up the light. It was only -then that I knew. Fever-flushed, ill as she was, I recognized -Louise Armstrong. - -I stood gazing down at her in a stupor of amazement. Louise -here, hiding at the lodge, ill and alone! Rosie came up to the -bed and smoothed the white counterpane. - -"I am afraid she is worse to-night," she ventured at last. -I put my hand on the sick girl's forehead. It was burning with -fever, and I turned to where Thomas lingered in the hallway. - -"Will you tell me what you mean, Thomas Johnson, by not telling -me this before?" I demanded indignantly. - -Thomas quailed. - -"Mis' Louise wouldn' let me," he said earnestly. "I wanted to. -She ought to 'a' had a doctor the night she came, but she wouldn' -hear to it. Is she--is she very bad, Mis' Innes?" - -"Bad enough," I said coldly. "Send Mr. Innes up." - -Halsey came up the stairs slowly, looking rather interested and -inclined to be amused. For a moment he could not see anything -distinctly in the darkened room; he stopped, glanced at Rosie and -at me, and then his eyes fell on the restless head on the pillow. - -I think he felt who it was before he really saw her; he crossed -the room in a couple of strides and bent over the bed. - -"Louise!" he said softly; but she did not reply, and her eyes -showed no recognition. Halsey was young, and illness was new to -him. He straightened himself slowly, still watching her, and -caught my arm. - -"She's dying, Aunt Ray!" he said huskily. "Dying! Why, she -doesn't know me!" - -"Fudge!" I snapped, being apt to grow irritable when my -sympathies are aroused. "She's doing nothing of the sort,--and -don't pinch my arm. If you want something to do, go and choke -Thomas." - -But at that moment Louise roused from her stupor to cough, and at -the end of the paroxysm, as Rosie laid her back, exhausted, she -knew us. That was all Halsey wanted; to him consciousness was -recovery. He dropped on his knees beside the bed, and tried to -tell her she was all right, and we would bring her around in a -hurry, and how beautiful she looked--only to break down utterly -and have to stop. And at that I came to my senses, and put him -out. - -"This instant!" I ordered, as he hesitated. "And send Rosie -here." - -He did not go far. He sat on the top step of the stairs, only -leaving to telephone for a doctor, and getting in everybody's way -in his eagerness to fetch and carry. I got him away finally, by -sending him to fix up the car as a sort of ambulance, in case the -doctor would allow the sick girl to be moved. He sent Gertrude -down to the lodge loaded with all manner of impossible -things, including an armful of Turkish towels and a box of -mustard plasters, and as the two girls had known each other -somewhat before, Louise brightened perceptibly when she saw her. - -When the doctor from Englewood--the Casanova doctor, Doctor -Walker, being away--had started for Sunnyside, and I had got -Thomas to stop trying to explain what he did not understand -himself, I had a long talk with the old man, and this is what I -learned. - -On Saturday evening before, about ten o'clock, he had been -reading in the sitting-room down-stairs, when some one rapped at -the door. The old man was alone, Warner not having arrived, and -at first he was uncertain about opening the door. He did so -finally, and was amazed at being confronted by Louise Armstrong. -Thomas was an old family servant, having been with the present -Mrs. Armstrong since she was a child, and he was overwhelmed at -seeing Louise. He saw that she was excited and tired, and he -drew her into the sitting-room and made her sit down. After a -while he went to the house and brought Mrs. Watson, and they -talked until late. The old man said Louise was in trouble, and -seemed frightened. Mrs. Watson made some tea and took it to the -lodge, but Louise made them both promise to keep her -presence a secret. She had not known that Sunnyside was rented, -and whatever her trouble was, this complicated things. She -seemed puzzled. Her stepfather and her mother were still in -California--that was all she would say about them. Why she had -run away no one could imagine. Mr. Arnold Armstrong was at the -Greenwood Club, and at last Thomas, not knowing what else to do, -went over there along the path. It was almost midnight. Part- -way over he met Armstrong himself and brought him to the lodge. -Mrs. Watson had gone to the house for some bed-linen, it having -been arranged that under the circumstances Louise would be better -at the lodge until morning. Arnold Armstrong and Louise had a -long conference, during which he was heard to storm and become -very violent. When he left it was after two. He had gone up to -the house--Thomas did not know why--and at three o'clock he was -shot at the foot of the circular staircase. - -The following morning Louise had been ill. She had asked for -Arnold, and was told he had left town. Thomas had not the moral -courage to tell her of the crime. She refused a doctor, and -shrank morbidly from having her presence known. Mrs. Watson and -Thomas had had their hands full, and at last Rosie had been -enlisted to help them. She carried necessary provisions--little -enough--to the lodge, and helped to keep the secret. - -Thomas told me quite frankly that he had been anxious to keep -Louise's presence hidden for this reason: they had all seen -Arnold Armstrong that night, and he, himself, for one, was known -to have had no very friendly feeling for the dead man. As to the -reason for Louise's flight from California, or why she had not -gone to the Fitzhughs', or to some of her people in town, he had -no more information than I had. With the death of her stepfather -and the prospect of the immediate return of the family, things -had become more and more impossible. I gathered that Thomas was -as relieved as I at the turn events had taken. No, she did not -know of either of the deaths in the family. - -Taken all around, I had only substituted one mystery for another. - -If I knew now why Rosie had taken the basket of dishes, I did not -know who had spoken to her and followed her along the drive. If -I knew that Louise was in the lodge, I did not know why she was -there. If I knew that Arnold Armstrong had spent some time -in the lodge the night before he was murdered, I was no nearer -the solution of the crime. Who was the midnight intruder who had -so alarmed Liddy and myself? Who had fallen down the clothes -chute? Was Gertrude's lover a villain or a victim? Time was to -answer all these things. - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -LOUISE - -The doctor from Englewood came very soon, and I went up to see -the sick girl with him. Halsey had gone to supervise the fitting -of the car with blankets and pillows, and Gertrude was opening -and airing Louise's own rooms at the house. Her private sitting- -room, bedroom and dressing-room were as they had been when we -came. They occupied the end of the east wing, beyond the -circular staircase, and we had not even opened them. - -The girl herself was too ill to notice what was being done. -When, with the help of the doctor, who was a fatherly man with a -family of girls at home, we got her to the house and up the -stairs into bed, she dropped into a feverish sleep, which lasted -until morning. Doctor Stewart--that was the Englewood doctor-- -stayed almost all night, giving the medicine himself, -and watching her closely. Afterward he told me that she had had -a narrow escape from pneumonia, and that the cerebral symptoms -had been rather alarming. I said I was glad it wasn't an "itis" -of some kind, anyhow, and he smiled solemnly. - -He left after breakfast, saying that he thought the worst of the -danger was over, and that she must be kept very quiet. - -"The shock of two deaths, I suppose, has done this," he remarked, -picking up his case. "It has been very deplorable." - -I hastened to set him right. - -"She does not know of either, Doctor," I said. "Please do not -mention them to her." - -He looked as surprised as a medical man ever does. - -"I do not know the family," he said, preparing to get into his -top buggy. "Young Walker, down in Casanova, has been attending -them. I understand he is going to marry this young lady." - -"You have been misinformed," I said stiffly. "Miss Armstrong is -going to marry my nephew." - -The doctor smiled as he picked up the reins. - -"Young ladies are changeable these days," he said. "We thought -the wedding was to occur soon. Well, I will stop in this -afternoon to see how my patient is getting along." - -He drove away then, and I stood looking after him. He was a -doctor of the old school, of the class of family practitioner -that is fast dying out; a loyal and honorable gentleman who was -at once physician and confidential adviser to his patients. When -I was a girl we called in the doctor alike when we had measles, -or when mother's sister died in the far West. He cut out -redundant tonsils and brought the babies with the same air of -inspiring self-confidence. Nowadays it requires a different -specialist for each of these occurrences. When the babies cried, -old Doctor Wainwright gave them peppermint and dropped warm sweet -oil in their ears with sublime faith that if it was not colic it -was earache. When, at the end of a year, father met him driving -in his high side-bar buggy with the white mare ambling along, and -asked for a bill, the doctor used to go home, estimate what his -services were worth for that period, divide it in half--I don't -think he kept any books--and send father a statement, in a -cramped hand, on a sheet of ruled white paper. He was an honored -guest at all the weddings, christenings, and funerals--yes, -funerals--for every one knew he had done his best, and there -was no gainsaying the ways of Providence. - -Ah, well, Doctor Wainwright is gone, and I am an elderly woman -with an increasing tendency to live in the past. The contrast -between my old doctor at home and the Casanova doctor, Frank -Walker, always rouses me to wrath and digression. - -Some time about noon of that day, Wednesday, Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh -telephoned me. I have the barest acquaintance with her--she -managed to be put on the governing board of the Old Ladies' Home -and ruins their digestions by sending them ice-cream and cake on -every holiday. Beyond that, and her reputation at bridge, which -is insufferably bad--she is the worst player at the bridge club-- -I know little of her. It was she who had taken charge of Arnold -Armstrong's funeral, however, and I went at once to the -telephone. - -"Yes," I said, "this is Miss Innes." - -"Miss Innes," she said volubly, "I have just received a very -strange telegram from my cousin, Mrs. Armstrong. Her husband -died yesterday, in California and--wait, I will read you the -message." - -I knew what was coming, and I made up my mind at once. If Louise -Armstrong had a good and sufficient reason for leaving her -people and coming home, a reason, moreover, that kept her from -going at once to Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh, and that brought her to the -lodge at Sunnyside instead, it was not my intention to betray -her. Louise herself must notify her people. I do not justify -myself now, but remember, I was in a peculiar position toward the -Armstrong family. I was connected most unpleasantly with a cold- -blooded crime, and my niece and nephew were practically beggared, -either directly or indirectly, through the head of the family. - -Mrs. Fitzhugh had found the message. - -"`Paul died yesterday. Heart disease,'" she read. "`Wire at -once if Louise is with you.' You see, Miss Innes, Louise must -have started east, and Fanny is alarmed about her." - -"Yes," I said. - -"Louise is not here," Mrs. Fitzhugh went on, "and none of her -friends--the few who are still in town--has seen her. I called -you because Sunnyside was not rented when she went away, and -Louise might have, gone there." - -"I am sorry, Mrs. Fitzhugh, but I can not help you," I said, and -was immediately filled with compunction. Suppose Louise -grew worse? Who was I to play Providence in this case? The -anxious mother certainly had a right to know that her daughter -was in good hands. So I broke in on Mrs. Fitzhugh's voluble -excuses for disturbing me. - -"Mrs. Fitzhugh," I said. "I was going to let you think I knew -nothing about Louise Armstrong, but I have changed my mind. -Louise is here, with me." There was a clatter of ejaculations at -the other end of the wire. "She is ill, and not able to be -moved. Moreover, she is unable to see any one. I wish you would -wire her mother that she is with me, and tell her not to worry. -No, I do not know why she came east." - -"But my dear Miss Innes!" Mrs. Fitzhugh began. I cut in -ruthlessly. - -"I will send for you as soon as she can see you," I said. "No, -she is not in a critical state now, but the doctor says she must -have absolute quiet." - -When I had hung up the receiver, I sat down to think. So Louise -had fled from her people in California, and had come east alone! -It was not a new idea, but why had she done it? It occurred to -me that Doctor Walker might be concerned in it, might possibly -have bothered her with unwelcome attentions; but it seemed -to me that Louise was hardly a girl to take refuge in flight -under such circumstances. She had always been high-spirited, -with the well-poised head and buoyant step of the outdoors girl. -It must have been much more in keeping with Louise's character, -as I knew it, to resent vigorously any unwelcome attentions from -Doctor Walker. It was the suitor whom I should have expected to -see in headlong flight, not the lady in the case. - -The puzzle was no clearer at the end of the half-hour. I picked -up the morning papers, which were still full of the looting of -the Traders' Bank, the interest at fever height again, on account -of Paul Armstrong's death. The bank examiners were working on -the books, and said nothing for publication: John Bailey had been -released on bond. The body of Paul Armstrong would arrive Sunday -and would be buried from the Armstrong town house. There were -rumors that the dead man's estate had been a comparatively small -one. The last paragraph was the important one. - -Walter P. Broadhurst, of the Marine Bank, had produced two -hundred American Traction bonds, which had been placed as -security with the Marine Bank for a loan of one hundred and sixty -thousand dollars, made to Paul Armstrong, just before his -California trip. The bonds were a part of the missing traction -bonds from the Traders' Bank! While this involved the late -president of the wrecked bank, to my mind it by no means cleared -its cashier. - -The gardener mentioned by Halsey came out about two o'clock in -the afternoon, and walked up from the station. I was favorably -impressed by him. His references were good--he had been employed -by the Brays' until they went to Europe, and he looked young and -vigorous. He asked for one assistant, and I was glad enough to -get off so easily. He was a pleasant-faced young fellow, with -black hair and blue eyes, and his name was Alexander Graham. I -have been particular about Alex, because, as I said before, he -played an important part later. - -That afternoon I had a new insight into the character of the dead -banker. I had my first conversation with Louise. She sent for -me, and against my better judgment I went. There were so many -things she could not be told, in her weakened condition, that I -dreaded the interview. It was much easier than I expected, -however, because she asked no questions. - -Gertrude had gone to bed, having been up almost all night, -and Halsey was absent on one of those mysterious absences of his -that grew more and more frequent as time went on, until it -culminated in the event of the night of June the tenth. Liddy -was in attendance in the sick-room. There being little or -nothing to do, she seemed to spend her time smoothing the -wrinkles from the counterpane. Louise lay under a field of -virgin white, folded back at an angle of geometrical exactness, -and necessitating a readjustment every time the sick girl turned. - -Liddy heard my approach and came out to meet me. She seemed to -be in a perpetual state of goose-flesh, and she had got in the -habit of looking past me when she talked, as if she saw things. -It had the effect of making me look over my shoulder to see what -she was staring at, and was intensely irritating. - -"She's awake," Liddy said, looking uneasily down the circular -staircase, which was beside me. "She was talkin' in her sleep -something awful--about dead men and coffins." - -"Liddy," I said sternly, "did you breathe a word about everything -not being right here?" - -Liddy's gaze had wandered to the door of the chute, now bolted -securely. - -"Not a word," she said, "beyond asking her a question or two, -which there was no harm in. She says there never was a ghost -known here." - -I glared at her, speechless, and closing the door into Louise's -boudoir, to Liddy's great disappointment, I went on to the -bedroom beyond. - -Whatever Paul Armstrong had been, he had been lavish with his -stepdaughter. Gertrude's rooms at home were always beautiful -apartments, but the three rooms in the east wing at Sunnyside, -set apart for the daughter of the house, were much more splendid. - -From the walls to the rugs on the floor, from the furniture to -the appointments of the bath, with its pool sunk in the floor -instead of the customary unlovely tub, everything was luxurious. -In the bedroom Louise was watching for me. It was easy to see -that she was much improved; the flush was going, and the peculiar -gasping breathing of the night before was now a comfortable and -easy respiration. - -She held out her hand and I took it between both of mine. - -"What can I say to you, Miss Innes?" she said slowly. "To have -come like this--" - -I thought she was going to break down, but she did not. - -"You are not to think of anything but of getting well," I said, -patting her hand. "When you are better, I am going to scold you -for not coming here at once. This is your home, my dear, and of -all people in the world, Halsey's old aunt ought to make you -welcome." - -She smiled a little, sadly, I thought. - -"I ought not to see Halsey," she said. "Miss Innes, there are a -great many things you will never understand, I am afraid. I am -an impostor on your sympathy, because I--I stay here and let you -lavish care on me, and all the time I know you are going to -despise me." - -"Nonsense!" I said briskly. "Why, what would Halsey do to me if -I even ventured such a thing? He is so big and masterful that if -I dared to be anything but rapturous over you, he would throw me -out of a window. Indeed, he would be quite capable of it." - -She seemed scarcely to hear my facetious tone. She had eloquent -brown eyes--the Inneses are fair, and are prone to a grayish- -green optic that is better for use than appearance--and they -seemed now to be clouded with trouble. - -"Poor Halsey!" she said softly. "Miss Innes, I can not marry -him, and I am afraid to tell him. I am a coward--a coward!" - -I sat beside the bed and stared at her. She was too ill to argue -with, and, besides, sick people take queer fancies. - -"We will talk about that when you are stronger," I said gently. - -"But there are some things I must tell you," she insisted. "You -must wonder how I came here, and why I stayed hidden at the -lodge. Dear old Thomas has been almost crazy, Miss Innes. I did -not know that Sunnyside was rented. I knew my mother wished to -rent it, without telling my--stepfather, but the news must have -reached her after I left. When I started east, I had only one -idea--to be alone with my thoughts for a time, to bury myself -here. Then, I--must have taken a cold on the train." - -"You came east in clothing suitable for California," I said, -"and, like all young girls nowadays, I don't suppose you wear -flannels." But she was not listening. - -"Miss Innes," she said, "has my stepbrother Arnold gone away?" - -"What do you mean?" I asked, startled. But Louise was literal. - -"He didn't come back that night," she said, "and it was so -important that I should see him." - -"I believe he has gone away," I replied uncertainly. "Isn't it -something that we could attend to instead?" - -But she shook her head. "I must do it myself," she said dully. -"My mother must have rented Sunnyside without telling my -stepfather, and--Miss Innes, did you ever hear of any one being -wretchedly poor in the midst of luxury? - -"Did you ever long, and long, for money--money to use without -question, money that no one would take you to task about? My -mother and I have been surrounded for years with every indulgence -everything that would make a display. But we have never had any -money, Miss Innes; that must have been why mother rented this -house. My stepfather pays out bills. It's the most maddening, -humiliating existence in the world. I would love honest poverty -better." - -"Never mind," I said; "when you and Halsey are married you -can be as honest as you like, and you will certainly be poor." - -Halsey came to the door at that moment and I could hear him -coaxing Liddy for admission to the sick room. - -"Shall I bring him in?" I asked Louise, uncertain what to do. -The girl seemed to shrink back among her pillows at the sound of -his voice. I was vaguely irritated with her; there are few young -fellows like Halsey--straightforward, honest, and willing to -sacrifice everything for the one woman. I knew one once, more -than thirty years ago, who was like that: he died a long time -ago. And sometimes I take out his picture, with its cane and its -queer silk hat, and look at it. But of late years it has grown -too painful: he is always a boy--and I am an old woman. I would -not bring him back if I could. - -Perhaps it was some such memory that made me call out sharply. - -"Come in, Halsey." And then I took my sewing and went into the -boudoir beyond, to play propriety. I did not try to hear what -they said, but every word came through the open door with curious -distinctness. Halsey had evidently gone over to the bed and I -suppose he kissed her. There was silence for a moment, as -if words were superfluous things. - -"I have been almost wild, sweetheart,"--Halsey's voice. "Why -didn't you trust me, and send for me before?" - -"It was because I couldn't trust myself," she said in a low tone. - -"I am too weak to struggle to-day; oh, Halsey, how I have wanted -to see you!" - -There was something I did not hear, then Halsey again. - -"We could go away," he was saying. "What does it matter about -any one in the world but just the two of us? To be always -together, like this, hand in hand; Louise--don't tell me it isn't -going to be. I won't believe you." - -"You don't know; you don't know," Louise repeated dully. -"Halsey, I care--you know that--but--not enough to marry you." - -"That is not true, Louise," he said sternly. "You can not look -at me with your honest eyes and say that." - -"I can not marry you," she repeated miserably. "It's bad enough, -isn't it? Don't make it worse. Some day, before long, you will -be glad." - -"Then it is because you have never loved me." There were depths -of hurt pride in his voice. "You saw how much I loved you, and -you let me think you cared--for a while. No--that isn't like -you, Louise. There is something you haven't told me. Is it-- -because there is some one else?" - -"Yes," almost inaudibly. - -"Louise! Oh, I don't believe it." - -"It is true," she said sadly. "Halsey, you must not try to see -me again. As soon as I can, I am going away from here--where you -are all so much kinder than I deserve. And whatever you hear -about me, try to think as well of me as you can. I am going to -marry--another man. How you must hate me--hate me!" - -I could hear Halsey cross the room to the window. Then, after a -pause, he went back to her again. I could hardly sit still; I -wanted to go in and give her a good shaking. - -"Then it's all over," he was saying with a long breath. "The -plans we made together, the hopes, the--all of it--over! Well, -I'll not be a baby, and I'll give you up the minute you say `I -don't love you and I do love--some one else'!" - -"I can not say that," she breathed, "but, very soon, I shall -marry--the other man." - -I could hear Halsey's low triumphant laugh. - -"I defy him," he said. "Sweetheart, as long as you care for me, -I am not afraid." - -The wind slammed the door between the two rooms just then, and I -could hear nothing more, although I moved my chair quite close. -After a discreet interval, I went into the other room, and found -Louise alone. She was staring with sad eyes at the cherub -painted on the ceiling over the bed, and because she looked tired -I did not disturb her. - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AN EGG-NOG AND A TELEGRAM - -We had discovered Louise at the lodge Tuesday night. It was -Wednesday I had my interview with her. Thursday and Friday were -uneventful, save as they marked improvement in our patient. -Gertrude spent almost all the time with her, and the two had -grown to be great friends. But certain things hung over me -constantly; the coroner's inquest on the death of Arnold -Armstrong, to be held Saturday, and the arrival of Mrs. Armstrong -and young Doctor Walker, bringing the body of the dead president -of the Traders' Bank. We had not told Louise of either death. - -Then, too, I was anxious about the children. With their mother's -inheritance swept away in the wreck of the bank, and with their -love affairs in a disastrous condition, things could scarcely be -worse. Added to that, the cook and Liddy had a flare-up over -the proper way to make beef-tea for Louise, and, of -course, the cook left. - -Mrs. Watson had been glad enough, I think, to turn Louise over to -our care, and Thomas went upstairs night and morning to greet his -young mistress from the doorway. Poor Thomas! He had the -faculty--found still in some old negroes, who cling to the -traditions of slavery days--of making his employer's interest -his. It was always "we" with Thomas; I miss him sorely; pipe- -smoking, obsequious, not over reliable, kindly old man! - -On Thursday Mr. Harton, the Armstrongs' legal adviser, called up -from town. He had been advised, he said, that Mrs. Armstrong was -coming east with her husband's body and would arrive Monday. He -came with some hesitation, he went on, to the fact that he had -been further instructed to ask me to relinquish my lease on -Sunnyside, as it was Mrs. Armstrong's desire to come directly -there. - -I was aghast. - -"Here!" I said. "Surely you are mistaken, Mr. Harton. I should -think, after--what happened here only a few days ago, she would -never wish to come back." - -"Nevertheless," he replied, "she is most anxious to come. This -is what she says. `Use every possible means to have Sunnyside -vacated. Must go there at once.'" - -"Mr. Harton," I said testily, "I am not going to do anything of -the kind. I and mine have suffered enough at the hands of this -family. I rented the house at an exorbitant figure and I have -moved out here for the summer. My city home is dismantled and in -the hands of decorators. I have been here one week, during which -I have had not a single night of uninterrupted sleep, and I -intend to stay until I have recuperated. Moreover, if Mr. -Armstrong died insolvent, as I believe was the case, his widow -ought to be glad to be rid of so expensive a piece of property." - -The lawyer cleared his throat. - -"I am very sorry you have made this decision," he said. "Miss -Innes, Mrs. Fitzhugh tells me Louise Armstrong is with you." - -"She is." - -"Has she been informed of this--double bereavement?" - -"Not yet," I said. "She has been very ill; perhaps to-night she -can be told." - -"It is very sad; very sad," he said. "I have a telegram for her, -Mrs. Innes. Shall I send it out?" - -"Better open it and read it to me," I suggested. "If it is -important, that will save time." - -There was a pause while Mr. Harton opened the telegram. Then he -read it slowly, judicially. - -"`Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday. Signed F. L. W.'" - -"Hum!" I said. "`Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday.' Very -well, Mr. Harton, I will tell her, but she is not in condition to -watch for any one." - -"Well, Miss Innes, if you decide to--er--relinquish the lease, -let me know," the lawyer said. - -"I shall not relinquish it," I replied, and I imagined his -irritation from the way he hung up the receiver. - -I wrote the telegram down word for word, afraid to trust my -memory, and decided to ask Doctor Stewart how soon Louise might -be told the truth. The closing of the Traders' Bank I considered -unnecessary for her to know, but the death of her stepfather and -stepbrother must be broken to her soon, or she might hear it in -some unexpected and shocking manner. - -Doctor Stewart came about four o'clock, bringing his leather -satchel into the house with a great deal of care, and opening it -at the foot of the stairs to show me a dozen big yellow eggs -nesting among the bottles. - -"Real eggs," he said proudly. "None of your anemic store eggs, -but the real thing--some of them still warm. Feel them! Egg-nog -for Miss Louise." - -He was beaming with satisfaction, and before he left, he insisted -on going back to the pantry and making an egg-nog with his own -hands. Somehow, all the time he was doing it, I had a vision of -Doctor Willoughby, my nerve specialist in the city, trying to -make an egg-nog. I wondered if he ever prescribed anything so -plebeian--and so delicious. And while Doctor Stewart whisked the -eggs he talked. - -"I said to Mrs. Stewart," he confided, a little red in the face -from the exertion, "after I went home the other day, that you -would think me an old gossip, for saying what I did about Walker -and Miss Louise." - -"Nothing of the sort," I protested. - -"The fact is," he went on, evidently justifying him self, "I got -that piece of information just as we get a lot of things, through -the kitchen end of the house. Young Walker's chauffeur--Walker's -more fashionable than I am, and he goes around the country in a -Stanhope car--well, his chauffeur comes to see our servant -girl, and he told her the whole thing. I thought it was -probable, because Walker spent a lot of time up here last summer, -when the family was here, and besides, Riggs, that's Walker's -man, had a very pat little story about the doctor's building a -house on this property, just at the foot of the hill. The sugar, -please." - -The egg-nog was finished. Drop by drop the liquor had cooked the -egg, and now, with a final whisk, a last toss in the shaker, it -was ready, a symphony in gold and white. The doctor sniffed it. - -"Real eggs, real milk, and a touch of real Kentucky whisky," he -said. - -He insisted on carrying it up himself, but at the foot of the -stairs he paused. - -"Riggs said the plans were drawn for the house," he said, harking -back to the old subject. "Drawn by Huston in town. So I -naturally believed him." - -When the doctor came down, I was ready with a question. - -"Doctor," I asked, "is there any one in the neighborhood named -Carrington? Nina Carrington?" - -"Carrington?" He wrinkled his forehead. "Carrington? No, -I don't remember any such family. There used to be Covingtons -down the creek." - -"The name was Carrington," I said, and the subject lapsed. - -Gertrude and Halsey went for a long walk that afternoon, and -Louise slept. Time hung heavy on my hands, and I did as I had -fallen into a habit of doing lately--I sat down and thought -things over. One result of my meditations was that I got up -suddenly and went to the telephone. I had taken the most intense -dislike to this Doctor Walker, whom I had never seen, and who was -being talked of in the countryside as the fiance of Louise -Armstrong. - -I knew Sam Huston well. There had been a time, when Sam was a -good deal younger than he is now, before he had married Anne -Endicott, when I knew him even better. So now I felt no -hesitation in calling him over the telephone. But when his -office boy had given way to his confidential clerk, and that -functionary had condescended to connect his employer's desk -telephone, I was somewhat at a loss as to how to begin. - -"Why, how are you, Rachel?" Sam said sonorously. "Going to build -that house at Rock View?" It was a twenty-year-old joke of his. - -"Sometime, perhaps," I said. "Just now I want to ask you a -question about something which is none of my business." - -"I see you haven't changed an iota in a quarter of a century, -Rachel." This was intended to be another jest. "Ask ahead: -everything but my domestic affairs is at your service." - -"Try to be serious," I said. "And tell me this: has your firm -made any plans for a house recently, for a Doctor Walker, at -Casanova?" - -"Yes, we have." - -"Where was it to be built? I have a reason for asking." - -"It was to be, I believe, on the Armstrong place. Mr. Armstrong -himself consulted me, and the inference was--in fact, I am quite -certain--the house was to be occupied by Mr. Armstrong's -daughter, who was engaged to marry Doctor Walker." - -When the architect had inquired for the different members of my -family, and had finally rung off, I was certain of one thing. -Louise Armstrong was in love with Halsey, and the man she was -going to marry was Doctor Walker. Moreover, this decision was -not new; marriage had been contemplated for some time. -There must certainly be some explanation--but what was it? - -That day I repeated to Louise the telegram Mr. Warton had opened. - -She seemed to understand, but an unhappier face I have never -seen. She looked like a criminal whose reprieve is over, and the -day of execution approaching. - - - -CHAPTER XV - -LIDDY GIVES THE ALARM - -The next day, Friday, Gertrude broke the news of her stepfather's -death to Louise. She did it as gently as she could, telling her -first that he was very ill, and finally that he was dead. Louise -received the news in the most unexpected manner, and when -Gertrude came out to tell me how she had stood it, I think she -was almost shocked. - -"She just lay and stared at me, Aunt Ray," she said. "Do you -know, I believe she is glad, glad! And she is too honest to -pretend anything else. What sort of man was Mr. Paul Armstrong, -anyhow?" - -"He was a bully as well as a rascal, Gertrude," I said. "But I -am convinced of one thing; Louise will send for Halsey now, and -they will make it all up." - -For Louise had steadily refused to see Halsey all that day, and -the boy was frantic. - -We had a quiet hour, Halsey and I, that evening, and I told him -several things; about the request that we give up the lease to -Sunnyside, about the telegram to Louise, about the rumors of an -approaching marriage between the girl and Doctor Walker, and, -last of all, my own interview with her the day before. - -He sat back in a big chair, with his face in the shadow, and my -heart fairly ached for him. He was so big and so boyish! When I -had finished he drew a long breath. - -"Whatever Louise does," he said, "nothing will convince me, Aunt -Ray, that she doesn't care for me. And up to two months ago, -when she and her mother went west, I was the happiest fellow on -earth. Then something made a difference: she wrote me that her -people were opposed to the marriage; that her feeling for me was -what it had always been, but that something had happened which -had changed her ideas as to the future. I was not to write until -she wrote me, and whatever occurred, I was to think the best I -could of her. It sounded like a puzzle. When I saw her -yesterday, it was the same thing, only, perhaps, worse." - -"Halsey," I asked, "have you any idea of the nature of the -interview between Louise Armstrong and Arnold the night he was -murdered?" - -"It was stormy. Thomas says once or twice he almost broke into -the room, he was so alarmed for Louise." - -"Another thing, Halsey," I said, "have you ever heard Louise -mention a woman named Carrington, Nina Carrington?" - -"Never," he said positively. - -For try as we would, our thoughts always came back to that fatal -Saturday night, and the murder. Every conversational path led to -it, and we all felt that Jamieson was tightening the threads of -evidence around John Bailey. The detective's absence was hardly -reassuring; he must have had something to work on in town, or he -would have returned. - -The papers reported that the cashier of the Traders' Bank was ill -in his apartments at the Knickerbocker--a condition not -surprising, considering everything. The guilt of the defunct -president was no longer in doubt; the missing bonds had been -advertised and some of them discovered. In every instance they -had been used as collateral for large loans, and the belief was -current that not less than a million and a half dollars had -been realized. Every one connected with the bank had been placed -under arrest, and released on heavy bond. - -Was he alone in his guilt, or was the cashier his accomplice? -Where was the money? The estate of the dead man was -comparatively small--a city house on a fashionable street, -Sunnyside, a large estate largely mortgaged, an insurance of -fifty thousand dollars, and some personal property--this was all. - -The rest lost in speculation probably, the papers said. There -was one thing which looked uncomfortable for Jack Bailey: he and -Paul Armstrong together had promoted a railroad company in New -Mexico, and it was rumored that together they had sunk large sums -of money there. The business alliance between the two men added -to the belief that Bailey knew something of the looting. His -unexplained absence from the bank on Monday lent color to the -suspicion against him. The strange thing seemed to be his -surrendering himself on the point of departure. To me, it seemed -the shrewd calculation of a clever rascal. I was not actively -antagonistic to Gertrude's lover, but I meant to be convinced, -one way or the other. I took no one on faith. - -That night the Sunnyside ghost began to walk again. Liddy had -been sleeping in Louise's dressing-room on a couch, and the -approach of dusk was a signal for her to barricade the entire -suite. Situated as its was, beyond the circular staircase, -nothing but an extremity of excitement would have made her pass -it after dark. I confess myself that the place seemed to me to -have a sinister appearance, but we kept that wing well lighted, -and until the lights went out at midnight it was really cheerful, -if one did not know its history. - -On Friday night, then, I had gone to bed, resolved to go at once -to sleep. Thoughts that insisted on obtruding themselves I -pushed resolutely to the back of my mind, and I systematically -relaxed every muscle. I fell asleep soon, and was dreaming that -Doctor Walker was building his new house immediately in front of -my windows: I could hear the thump-thump of the hammers, and then -I waked to a knowledge that somebody was pounding on my door. - -I was up at once, and with the sound of my footstep on the floor -the low knocking ceased, to be followed immediately by sibilant -whispering through the keyhole. - -"Miss Rachel! Miss Rachel!" somebody was saying, over and over. - -"Is that you, Liddy?" I asked, my hand on the knob. - -"For the love of mercy, let me in!" she said in a low tone. - -She was leaning against the door, for when I opened it, she fell -in. She was greenish-white, and she had a red and black barred -flannel petticoat over her shoulders. - -"Listen," she said, standing in the middle of the floor and -holding on to me. "Oh, Miss Rachel, it's the ghost of that dead -man hammering to get in!" - -Sure enough, there was a dull thud--thud--thud from some place -near. It was muffled: one rather felt than heard it, and it was -impossible to locate. One moment it seemed to come, three taps -and a pause, from the floor under us: the next, thud--thud-- -thud--it came apparently from the wall. - -"It's not a ghost," I said decidedly. "If it was a ghost it -wouldn't rap: it would come through the keyhole." Liddy looked -at the keyhole. "But it sounds very much as though some one is -trying to break into the house." - -Liddy was shivering violently. I told her to get me my slippers -and she brought me a pair of kid gloves, so I found my things -myself, and prepared to call Halsey. As before, the night alarm -had found the electric lights gone: the hall, save for its night -lamp, was in darkness, as I went across to Halsey's room. I -hardly know what I feared, but it was a relief to find him there, -very sound asleep, and with his door unlocked. - -"Wake up, Halsey," I said, shaking him. - -He stirred a little. Liddy was half in and half out of the door, -afraid as usual to be left alone, and not quite daring to enter. -Her scruples seemed to fade, however, all at once. She gave a -suppressed yell, bolted into the room, and stood tightly -clutching the foot-board of the bed. Halsey was gradually -waking. - -"I've seen it," Liddy wailed. "A woman in white down the hall!" - -I paid no attention. - -"Halsey," I persevered, "some one is breaking into the house. -Get up, won't you?" - -"It isn't our house," he said sleepily. And then he roused to -the exigency of the occasion. "All right, Aunt Ray," he -said, still yawning. "If you'll let me get into something--" - -It was all I could do to get Liddy out of the room. The demands -of the occasion had no influence on her: she had seen the ghost, -she persisted, and she wasn't going into the hall. But I got her -over to my room at last, more dead than alive, and made her lie -down on the bed. - -The tappings, which seemed to have ceased for a while, had -commenced again, but they were fainter. Halsey came over in a -few minutes, and stood listening and trying to locate the sound. - -"Give me my revolver, Aunt Ray," he said; and I got it--the one I -had found in the tulip bed--and gave it to him. He saw Liddy -there and divined at once that Louise was alone. - -"You let me attend to this fellow, whoever it is, Aunt Ray, and -go to Louise, will you? She may be awake and alarmed." - -So in spite of her protests, I left Liddy alone and went back to -the east wing. Perhaps I went a little faster past the yawning -blackness of the circular staircase; and I could hear Halsey -creaking cautiously down the main staircase. The rapping, or -pounding, had ceased, and the silence was almost painful. -And then suddenly, from apparently under my very feet, there rose -a woman's scream, a cry of terror that broke off as suddenly as -it came. I stood frozen and still. Every drop of blood in my -body seemed to leave the surface and gather around my heart. In -the dead silence that followed it throbbed as if it would burst. -More dead than alive, I stumbled into Louise's bedroom. She was -not there! - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -IN THE EARLY MORNING - -I stood looking at the empty bed. The coverings had been thrown -back, and Louise's pink silk dressing-gown was gone from the -foot, where it had lain. The night lamp burned dimly, revealing -the emptiness of the place. I picked it up, but my hand shook so -that I put it down again, and got somehow to the door. - -There were voices in the hall and Gertrude came running toward -me. - -"What is it?" she cried. "What was that sound? Where is -Louise?" - -"She is not in her room," I said stupidly. "I think--it was -she--who screamed." - -Liddy had joined us now, carrying a light. We stood huddled -together at the head of the circular staircase, looking down into -its shadows. There was nothing to be seen, and it was absolutely -quiet down there. Then we heard Halsey running up the -main staircase. He came quickly down the hall to where we were -standing. - -"There's no one trying to get in. I thought I heard some one -shriek. Who was it?" - -Our stricken faces told him the truth. - -"Some one screamed down there," I said. "And--and Louise is not -in her room." - -With a jerk Halsey took the light from Liddy and ran down the -circular staircase. I followed him, more slowly. My nerves -seemed to be in a state of paralysis: I could scarcely step. At -the foot of the stairs Halsey gave an exclamation and put down -the light. - -"Aunt Ray," he called sharply. - -At the foot of the staircase, huddled in a heap, her head on the -lower stair, was Louise Armstrong. She lay limp and white, her -dressing-gown dragging loose from one sleeve of her night-dress, -and the heavy braid of her dark hair stretching its length a -couple of steps above her head, as if she had slipped down. - -She was not dead: Halsey put her down on the floor, and began to -rub her cold hands, while Gertrude and Liddy ran for stimulants. -As for me, I sat there at the foot of that ghostly staircase-- -sat, because my knees wouldn't hold me--and wondered where -it would all end. Louise was still unconscious, but she was -breathing better, and I suggested that we get her back to bed -before she came to. There was something grisly and horrible to -me, seeing her there in almost the same attitude and in the same -place where we had found her brother's body. And to add to the -similarity, just then the hall clock, far off, struck faintly -three o'clock. - -It was four before Louise was able to talk, and the first rays of -dawn were coming through her windows, which faced the east, -before she could tell us coherently what had occurred. I give it -as she told it. She lay propped in bed, and Halsey sat beside -her, unrebuffed, and held her hand while she talked. - -"I was not sleeping well," she began, "partly, I think, because I -had slept during the afternoon. Liddy brought me some hot milk -at ten o'clock and I slept until twelve. Then I wakened and--I -got to thinking about things, and worrying, so I could not go to -sleep. - -"I was wondering why I had not heard from Arnold since the--since -I saw him that night at the lodge. I was afraid he was ill, -because--he was to have done something for me, and he had -not come back. It must have been three when I heard some one -rapping. I sat up and listened, to be quite sure, and the -rapping kept up. It was cautious, and I was about to call Liddy. - -"Then suddenly I thought I knew what it was. The east entrance -and the circular staircase were always used by Arnold when he was -out late, and sometimes, when he forgot his key, he would rap and -I would go down and let him in. I thought he had come back to -see me--I didn't think about the time, for his hours were always -erratic. But I was afraid I was too weak to get down the stairs. - -"The knocking kept up, and just as I was about to call Liddy, she -ran through the room and out into the hall. I got up then, -feeling weak and dizzy, and put on my dressing-gown. If it was -Arnold, I knew I must see him. - -"It was very dark everywhere, but, of course, I knew my way. I -felt along for the stair-rail, and went down as quickly as I -could. The knocking had stopped, and I was afraid I was too -late. I got to the foot of the staircase and over to the door on -to the east veranda. I had never thought of anything but that it -was Arnold, until I reached the door. It was unlocked and opened -about an inch. Everything was black: it was perfectly dark -outside. I felt very queer and shaky. Then I thought perhaps -Arnold had used his key; he did--strange things sometimes, and I -turned around. Just as I reached the foot of the staircase I -thought I heard some one coming. My nerves were going anyhow, -there in the dark, and I could scarcely stand. I got up as far -as the third or fourth step; then I felt that some one was coming -toward me on the staircase. The next instant a hand met mine on -the stair-rail. Some one brushed past me, and I screamed. Then -I must have fainted." - -That was Louise's story. There could be no doubt of its truth, -and the thing that made it inexpressibly awful to me was that the -poor girl had crept down to answer the summons of a brother who -would never need her kindly offices again. Twice now, without -apparent cause, some one had entered the house by means of the -east entrance: had apparently gone his way unhindered through the -house, and gone out again as he had entered. Had this unknown -visitor been there a third time, the night Arnold Armstrong was -murdered? Or a fourth, the time Mr. Jamieson had locked some one -in the clothes chute? - -Sleep was impossible, I think, for any of us. We dispersed -finally to bathe and dress, leaving Louise little the worse for -her experience. But I determined that before the day was over -she must know the true state of affairs. Another decision I -made, and I put it into execution immediately after breakfast. I -had one of the unused bedrooms in the east wing, back along the -small corridor, prepared for occupancy, and from that time on, -Alex, the gardener, slept there. One man in that barn of a house -was an absurdity, with things happening all the time, and I must -say that Alex was as unobjectionable as any one could possibly -have been. - -The next morning, also, Halsey and I made an exhaustive -examination of the circular staircase, the small entry at its -foot, and the card-room opening from it. There was no evidence -of anything unusual the night before, and had we not ourselves -heard the rapping noises, I should have felt that Louise's -imagination had run away with her. The outer door was closed and -locked, and the staircase curved above us, for all the world like -any other staircase. - -Halsey, who had never taken seriously my account of the night -Liddy and I were there alone, was grave enough now. He examined -the paneling of the wainscoting above and below the stairs, -evidently looking for a secret door, and suddenly there flashed -into my mind the recollection of a scrap of paper that Mr. -Jamieson had found among Arnold Armstrong's effects. As nearly -as possible I repeated its contents to him, while Halsey took -them down in a note-book. - -"I wish you had told me that before," he said, as he put the -memorandum carefully away. We found nothing at all in the house, -and I expected little from any examination of the porch and -grounds. But as we opened the outer door something fell into the -entry with a clatter. It was a cue from the billiard-room. - -Halsey picked it up with an exclamation. - -"That's careless enough," he said. "Some of the servants have -been amusing themselves." - -I was far from convinced. Not one of the servants would go into -that wing at night unless driven by dire necessity. And a -billiard cue! As a weapon of either offense or defense it was an -absurdity, unless one accepted Liddy's hypothesis of a ghost, and -even then, as Halsey pointed out, a billiard-playing ghost would -be a very modern evolution of an ancient institution. - -That afternoon we, Gertrude, Halsey and I, attended the coroner's -inquest in town. Doctor Stewart had been summoned also, it -transpiring that in that early Sunday morning, when Gertrude and -I had gone to our rooms, he had been called to view the body. We -went, the four of us, in the machine, preferring the execrable -roads to the matinee train, with half of Casanova staring at us. -And on the way we decided to say nothing of Louise and her -interview with her stepbrother the night he died. The girl was -in trouble enough as it was. - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A HINT OF SCANDAL - -In giving the gist of what happened at the inquest, I have only -one excuse--to recall to the reader the events of the night of -Arnold Armstrong's murder. Many things had occurred which were -not brought out at the inquest and some things were told there -that were new to me. Altogether, it was a gloomy affair, and the -six men in the corner, who constituted the coroner's jury, were -evidently the merest puppets in the hands of that all-powerful -gentleman, the coroner. - -Gertrude and I sat well back, with our veils down. There were a -number of people I knew: Barbara Fitzhugh, in extravagant -mourning--she always went into black on the slightest -provocation, because it was becoming--and Mr. Jarvis, the man who -had come over from the Greenwood Club the night of the -murder. Mr. Harton was there, too, looking impatient -as the inquest dragged, but alive to every particle of evidence. -From a corner Mr. Jamieson was watching the proceedings intently. - -Doctor Stewart was called first. His evidence was told briefly, -and amounted to this: on the Sunday morning previous, at a -quarter before five, he had been called to the telephone. The -message was from a Mr. Jarvis, who asked him to come at once to -Sunnyside, as there had been an accident there, and Mr. Arnold -Armstrong had been shot. He had dressed hastily, gathered up -some instruments, and driven to Sunnyside. - -He was met by Mr. Jarvis, who took him at once to the east wing. -There, just as he had fallen, was the body of Arnold Armstrong. -There was no need of the instruments: the man was dead. In -answer to the coroner's question--no, the body had not been -moved, save to turn it over. It lay at the foot of the circular -staircase. Yes, he believed death had been instantaneous. The -body was still somewhat warm and rigor mortis had not set in. -It occurred late in cases of sudden death. No, he believed the -probability of suicide might be eliminated; the wounds could have -been self-inflicted, but with difficulty, and there had been -no weapon found. - -The doctor's examination was over, but he hesitated and cleared -his throat. - -"Mr. Coroner," he said, "at the risk of taking up valuable time, -I would like to speak of an incident that may or may not throw -some light on this matter." - -The audience was alert at once. - -"Kindly proceed, Doctor," the coroner said. - -"My home is in Englewood, two miles from Casanova," the doctor -began. "In the absence of Doctor Walker, a number of Casanova -people have been consulting me. A month ago--five weeks, to be -exact--a woman whom I had never seen came to my office. She was -in deep mourning and kept her veil down, and she brought for -examination a child, a boy of six. The little fellow was ill; it -looked like typhoid, and the mother was frantic. She wanted a -permit to admit the youngster to the Children's Hospital in town -here, where I am a member of the staff, and I gave her one. The -incident would have escaped me, but for a curious thing. Two -days before Mr. Armstrong was shot, I was sent for to go to the -Country Club: some one had been struck with a golf-ball that had -gone wild. It was late when I left--I was on foot, and -about a mile from the club, on the Claysburg road, I met two -people. They were disputing violently, and I had no difficulty -in recognizing Mr. Armstrong. The woman, beyond doubt, was the -one who had consulted me about the child." - -At this hint of scandal, Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh sat up very -straight. Jamieson was looking slightly skeptical, and the -coroner made a note. - -"The Children's Hospital, you say, Doctor?" he asked. - -"Yes. But the child, who was entered as Lucien Wallace, was -taken away by his mother two weeks ago. I have tried to trace -them and failed." - -All at once I remembered the telegram sent to Louise by some one -signed F. L. W.--presumably Doctor Walker. Could this veiled -woman be the Nina Carrington of the message? But it was only -idle speculation. I had no way of finding out, and the inquest -was proceeding. - -The report of the coroner's physician came next. The post-mortem -examination showed that the bullet had entered the chest in the -fourth left intercostal space and had taken an oblique course -downward and backward, piercing both the heart and lungs. -The left lung was collapsed, and the exit point of the ball had -been found in the muscles of the back to the left of the spinal -column. It was improbable that such a wound had been self- -inflicted, and its oblique downward course pointed to the fact -that the shot had been fired from above. In other words, as the -murdered man had been found dead at the foot of a staircase, it -was probable that the shot had been fired by some one higher up -on the stairs. There were no marks of powder. The bullet, a -thirty-eight caliber, had been found in the dead man's clothing, -and was shown to the jury. - -Mr. Jarvis was called next, but his testimony amounted to little. - -He had been summoned by telephone to Sunnyside, had come over at -once with the steward and Mr. Winthrop, at present out of town. -They had been admitted by the housekeeper, and had found the body -lying at the foot of the staircase. He had made a search for a -weapon, but there was none around. The outer entry door in the -east wing had been unfastened and was open about an inch. - -I had been growing more and more nervous. When the coroner -called Mr. John Bailey, the room was filled with suppressed -excitement. Mr. Jamieson went forward and spoke a few words to -the coroner, who nodded. Then Halsey was called. - -"Mr. Innes," the coroner said, "will you tell under what -circumstances you saw Mr. Arnold Armstrong the night he died?" - -"I saw him first at the Country Club," Halsey said quietly. He -was rather pale, but very composed. "I stopped there with my -automobile for gasolene. Mr. Armstrong had been playing cards. -When I saw him there, he was coming out of the card-room, talking -to Mr. John Bailey." - -"The nature of the discussion--was it amicable?" - -Halsey hesitated. - -"They were having a dispute," he said. "I asked Mr. Bailey to -leave the club with me and come to Sunnyside over Sunday." - -"Isn't it a fact, Mr. Innes, that you took Mr. Bailey away from -the club-house because you were afraid there would be blows?" - -"The situation was unpleasant," Halsey said evasively. - -"At that time had you any suspicion that the Traders' Bank had -been wrecked?" - -"No." - -"What occurred next?" - -"Mr. Bailey and I talked in the billiard-room until two-thirty." - -"And Mr. Arnold Armstrong came there, while you were talking?" - -"Yes. He came about half-past two. He rapped at the east door, -and I admitted him." - -The silence in the room was intense. Mr. Jamieson's eyes never -left Halsey's face. - -"Will you tell us the nature of his errand?" - -"He brought a telegram that had come to the club for Mr. Bailey." - -"He was sober?" - -"Perfectly, at that time. Not earlier." - -"Was not his apparent friendliness a change from his former -attitude?" - -"Yes. I did not understand it." - -"How long did he stay?" - -"About five minutes. Then he left, by the east entrance." - -"What occurred then?" - -"We talked for a few minutes, discussing a plan Mr. Bailey -had in mind. Then I went to the stables, where I kept my car, -and got it out." - -"Leaving Mr. Bailey alone in the billiard-room?" - -Halsey hesitated. - -"My sister was there?" - -Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh had the courage to turn and eye Gertrude -through her lorgnon. - -"And then?" - -"I took the car along the lower road, not to disturb the -household. Mr. Bailey came down across the lawn, through the -hedge, and got into the car on the road." - -"Then you know nothing of Mr. Armstrong's movements after he left -the house?" - -"Nothing. I read of his death Monday evening for the first -time." - -"Mr. Bailey did not see him on his way across the lawn?" - -"I think not. If he had seen him he would have spoken of it." - -"Thank you. That is all. Miss Gertrude Innes." - -Gertrude's replies were fully as concise as Halsey's. Mrs. -Fitzhugh subjected her to a close inspection, commencing with her -hat and ending with her shoes. I flatter myself she found -nothing wrong with either her gown or her manner, but poor -Gertrude's testimony was the reverse of comforting. She had been -summoned, she said, by her brother, after Mr. Armstrong had gone. - -She had waited in the billiard-room with Mr. Bailey, until the -automobile had been ready. Then she had locked the door at the -foot of the staircase, and, taking a lamp, had accompanied Mr. -Bailey to the main entrance of the house, and had watched him -cross the lawn. Instead of going at once to her room, she had -gone back to the billiard-room for something which had been left -there. The card-room and billiard-room were in darkness. She -had groped around, found the article she was looking for, and was -on the point of returning to her room, when she had heard some -one fumbling at the lock at the east outer door. She had thought -it was probably her brother, and had been about to go to the -door, when she heard it open. Almost immediately there was a -shot, and she had run panic-stricken through the drawing-room and -had roused the house. - -"You heard no other sound?" the coroner asked. "There was no one -with Mr. Armstrong when he entered?" - -"It was perfectly dark. There were no voices and I heard -nothing. There was just the opening of the door, the shot, and -the sound of somebody falling." - -"Then, while you went through the drawing-room and up-stairs to -alarm the household, the criminal, whoever it was, could have -escaped by the east door?" - -"Yes." - -"Thank you. That will do." - -I flatter myself that the coroner got little enough out of me. I -saw Mr. Jamieson smiling to himself, and the coroner gave me up, -after a time. I admitted I had found the body, said I had not -known who it was until Mr. Jarvis told me, and ended by looking -up at Barbara Fitzhugh and saying that in renting the house I had -not expected to be involved in any family scandal. At which she -turned purple. - -The verdict was that Arnold Armstrong had met his death at the -hands of a person or persons unknown, and we all prepared to -leave. Barbara Fitzhugh flounced out without waiting to speak to -me, but Mr. Harton came up, as I knew he would. - -"You have decided to give up the house, I hope, Miss Innes," he -said. "Mrs. Armstrong has wired me again." - -"I am not going to give it up," I maintained, "until I understand -some things that are puzzling me. The day that the murderer is -discovered, I will leave." - -"Then, judging by what I have heard, you will be back in the city -very soon," he said. And I knew that he suspected the -discredited cashier of the Traders' Bank. - -Mr. Jamieson came up to me as I was about to leave the coroner's -office. - -"How is your patient?" he asked with his odd little smile. - -"I have no patient," I replied, startled. - -"I will put it in a different way, then. How is Miss Armstrong?" - -"She--she is doing very well," I stammered. - -"Good," cheerfully. "And our ghost? Is it laid?" - -"Mr. Jamieson," I said suddenly, "I wish you would do one thing: -I wish you would come to Sunnyside and spend a few days there. -The ghost is not laid. I want you to spend one night at least -watching the circular staircase. The murder of Arnold Armstrong -was a beginning, not an end." - -He looked serious. - -"Perhaps I can do it," he said. "I have been doing something -else, but--well, I will come out to-night." - -We were very silent during the trip back to Sunnyside. I watched -Gertrude closely and somewhat sadly. To me there was one glaring -flaw in her story, and it seemed to stand out for every one to -see. Arnold Armstrong had had no key, and yet she said she had -locked the east door. He must have been admitted from within the -house; over and over I repeated it to myself. - -That night, as gently as I could, I told Louise the story of her -stepbrother's death. She sat in her big, pillow-filled chair, -and heard me through without interruption. It was clear that she -was shocked beyond words: if I had hoped to learn anything from -her expression, I had failed. She was as much in the dark as we -were. - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -A HOLE IN THE WALL - -My taking the detective out to Sunnyside raised an unexpected -storm of protest from Gertrude and Halsey. I was not prepared -for it, and I scarcely knew how to account for it. To me Mr. -Jamieson was far less formidable under my eyes where I knew what -he was doing, than he was of in the city, twisting circumstances -and motives to suit himself and learning what he wished to know, -about events at Sunnyside, in some occult way. I was glad enough -to have him there, when excitements began to come thick and fast. - -A new element was about to enter into affairs: Monday, or Tuesday -at the latest, would find Doctor Walker back in his green and -white house in the village, and Louise's attitude to him in the -immediate future would signify Halsey's happiness or -wretchedness, as it might turn out. Then, too, the return -of her mother would mean, of course, that she would -have to leave us, and I had become greatly attached to her. - -From the day Mr. Jamieson came to Sunnyside there was a subtle -change in Gertrude's manner to me. It was elusive, difficult to -analyze, but it was there. She was no longer frank with me, -although I think her affection never wavered. At the time I laid -the change to the fact that I had forbidden all communication -with John Bailey, and had refused to acknowledge any engagement -between the two. Gertrude spent much of her time wandering -through the grounds, or taking long cross-country walks. Halsey -played golf at the Country Club day after day, and after Louise -left, as she did the following week, Mr. Jamieson and I were much -together. He played a fair game of cribbage, but he cheated at -solitaire. - -The night the detective arrived, Saturday, I had a talk with him. - -I told him of the experience Louise Armstrong had had the night -before, on the circular staircase, and about the man who had so -frightened Rosie on the drive. I saw that he thought the -information was important, and to my suggestion that we put an -additional lock on the east wing door he opposed a strong -negative. - -"I think it probable," he said, "that our visitor will be back -again, and the thing to do is to leave things exactly as they -are, to avoid rousing suspicion. Then I can watch for at least a -part of each night and probably Mr. Innes will help us out. I -would say as little to Thomas as possible. The old man knows -more than he is willing to admit." - -I suggested that Alex, the gardener, would probably be willing to -help, and Mr. Jamieson undertook to make the arrangement. For -one night, however, Mr. Jamieson preferred to watch alone. -Apparently nothing occurred. The detective sat in absolute -darkness on the lower step of the stairs, dozing, he said -afterwards, now and then. Nothing could pass him in either -direction, and the door in the morning remained as securely -fastened as it had been the night before. And yet one of the -most inexplicable occurrences of the whole affair took place that -very night. - -Liddy came to my room on Sunday morning with a face as long as -the moral law. She laid out my things as usual, but I missed -her customary garrulousness. I was not regaled with the new -cook's extravagance as to eggs, and she even forbore to mention -"that Jamieson," on whose arrival she had looked with silent -disfavor. - -"What's the matter, Liddy?" I asked at last. "Didn't you sleep -last night?" - -"No, ma'm," she said stiffly. - -"Did you have two cups of coffee at your dinner?" I inquired. - -"No, ma'm," indignantly. - -I sat up and almost upset my hot water--I always take a cup of -hot water with a pinch of salt, before I get up. It tones the -stomach. - -"Liddy Allen," I said, "stop combing that switch and tell me what -is wrong with you." - -Liddy heaved a sigh. - -"Girl and woman," she said, "I've been with you twenty-five -years, Miss Rachel, through good temper and bad--" the idea! and -what I have taken from her in the way of sulks!--"but I guess I -can't stand it any longer. My trunk's packed." - -"Who packed it?" I asked, expecting from her tone to be told she -had wakened to find it done by some ghostly hand. - -"I did; Miss Rachel, you won't believe me when I tell you this -house is haunted. Who was it fell down the clothes chute? -Who was it scared Miss Louise almost into her grave?" - -"I'm doing my best to find out," I said. "What in the world are -you driving at?" She drew a long breath. - -"There is a hole in the trunk-room wall, dug out since last -night. It's big enough to put your head in, and the plaster's -all over the place." - -"Nonsense!" I said. "Plaster is always falling." - -But Liddy clenched that. - -"Just ask Alex," she said. "When he put the new cook's trunk -there last night the wall was as smooth as this. This morning -it's dug out, and there's plaster on the cook's trunk. Miss -Rachel, you can get a dozen detectives and put one on every stair -in the house, and you'll never catch anything. There's some -things you can't handcuff." - -Liddy was right. As soon as I could, I went up to the trunk- -room, which was directly over my bedroom. The plan of the upper -story of the house was like that of the second floor, in the -main. One end, however, over the east wing, had been left only -roughly finished, the intention having been to convert it into a -ball-room at some future time. The maids' rooms, trunk-room, -and various store-rooms, including a large airy linen-room, -opened from a long corridor, like that on the second floor. And -in the trunk-room, as Liddy had said, was a fresh break in the -plaster. - -Not only in the plaster, but through the lathing, the aperture -extended. I reached into the opening, and three feet away, -perhaps, I could touch the bricks of the partition wall. For -some reason, the architect, in building the house, had left a -space there that struck me, even in the surprise of the -discovery, as an excellent place for a conflagration to gain -headway. - -"You are sure the hole was not here yesterday?" I asked Liddy, -whose expression was a mixture of satisfaction and alarm. In -answer she pointed to the new cook's trunk--that necessary -adjunct of the migratory domestic. The top was covered with fine -white plaster, as was the floor. But there were no large pieces -of mortar lying around--no bits of lathing. When I mentioned -this to Liddy she merely raised her eyebrows. Being quite -confident that the gap was of unholy origin, she did not concern -herself with such trifles as a bit of mortar and lath. No doubt -they were even then heaped neatly on a gravestone in the Casanova -churchyard! - -I brought Mr. Jamieson up to see the hole in the wall, directly -after breakfast. His expression was very odd when he looked at -it, and the first thing he did was to try to discover what -object, if any, such a hole could have. He got a piece of -candle, and by enlarging the aperture a little was able to -examine what lay beyond. The result was nil. The trunk-room, -although heated by steam heat, like the rest of the house, -boasted of a fireplace and mantel as well. The opening had been -made between the flue and the outer wall of the house. There was -revealed, however, on inspection, only the brick of the chimney -on one side and the outer wall of the house on the other; in -depth the space extended only to the flooring. The breach had -been made about four feet from the floor, and inside were all the -missing bits of plaster. It had been a methodical ghost. - -It was very much of a disappointment. I had expected a secret -room, at the very least, and I think even Mr. Jamieson had -fancied he might at last have a clue to the mystery. There was -evidently nothing more to be discovered: Liddy reported that -everything was serene among the servants, and that none of them -had been disturbed by the noise. The maddening thing, -however, was that the nightly visitor had evidently more than one -way of gaining access to the house, and we made arrangements to -redouble our vigilance as to windows and doors that night. - -Halsey was inclined to pooh-pooh the whole affair. He said a -break in the plaster might have occurred months ago and gone -unnoticed, and that the dust had probably been stirred up the day -before. After all, we had to let it go at that, but we put in an -uncomfortable Sunday. Gertrude went to church, and Halsey took a -long walk in the morning. Louise was able to sit up, and she -allowed Halsey and Liddy to assist her down-stairs late in the -afternoon. The east veranda was shady, green with vines and -palms, cheerful with cushions and lounging chairs. We put Louise -in a steamer chair, and she sat there passively enough, her hands -clasped in her lap. - -We were very silent. Halsey sat on the rail with a pipe, openly -watching Louise, as she looked broodingly across the valley to -the hills. There was something baffling in the girl's eyes; and -gradually Halsey's boyish features lost their glow at seeing her -about again, and settled into grim lines. He was like his father -just then. - -We sat until late afternoon, Halsey growing more and more moody. -Shortly before six, he got up and went into the house, and in a -few minutes he came out and called me to the telephone. It was -Anna Whitcomb, in town, and she kept me for twenty minutes, -telling me the children had had the measles, and how Madame -Sweeny had botched her new gown. - -When I finished, Liddy was behind me, her mouth a thin line. - -"I wish you would try to look cheerful, Liddy," I groaned, "your -face would sour milk." But Liddy seldom replied to my gibes. -She folded her lips a little tighter. - -"He called her up," she said oracularly, "he called her up, and -asked her to keep you at the telephone, so he could talk to Miss -Louise. A THANKLESS CHILD IS SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH." - -"Nonsense!" I said bruskly. "I might have known enough to leave -them. It's a long time since you and I were in love, Liddy, -and--we forget." - -Liddy sniffed. - -"No man ever made a fool of me," she replied virtuously. - -"Well, something did," I retorted. - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -CONCERNING THOMAS - -"Mr. Jamieson," I said, when we found ourselves alone after dinner -that night, "the inquest yesterday seemed to me the merest -recapitulation of things that were already known. It developed -nothing new beyond the story of Doctor Stewart's, and that was -volunteered." - -"An inquest is only a necessary formality, Miss Innes," he -replied. "Unless a crime is committed in the open, the inquest -does nothing beyond getting evidence from witnesses while events -are still in their minds. The police step in later. You and I -both know how many important things never transpired. For -instance: the dead man had no key, and yet Miss Gertrude -testified to a fumbling at the lock, and then the opening of the -door. The piece of evidence you mention, Doctor Stewart's story, -is one of those things we have to take cautiously: the doctor has -a patient who wears black and does not raise her veil. -Why, it is the typical mysterious lady! Then the good doctor -comes across Arnold Armstrong, who was a graceless scamp--de -mortuis--what's the rest of it?--and he is quarreling with a -lady in black. Behold, says the doctor, they are one and the -same." - -"Why was Mr. Bailey not present at the inquest?" - -The detective's expression was peculiar. - -"Because his physician testified that he is ill, and unable to -leave his bed." - -"Ill!" I exclaimed. "Why, neither Halsey nor Gertrude has told -me that." - -"There are more things than that, Miss Innes, that are puzzling. -Bailey gives the impression that he knew nothing of the crash at -the bank until he read it in the paper Monday night, and that he -went back and surrendered himself immediately. I do not believe -it. Jonas, the watchman at the Traders' Bank, tells a different -story. He says that on the Thursday night before, about eight- -thirty, Bailey went back to the bank. Jonas admitted him, and he -says the cashier was in a state almost of collapse. Bailey -worked until midnight, then he closed the vault and went away. -The occurrence was so unusual that the watchman pondered -over it an the rest of the night. What did Bailey do when he -went back to the Knickerbocker apartments that night? He packed -a suit-case ready for instant departure. But he held off too -long; he waited for something. My personal opinion is that he -waited to see Miss Gertrude before flying from the country. -Then, when he had shot down Arnold Armstrong that night, he had -to choose between two evils. He did the thing that would -immediately turn public opinion in his favor, and surrendered -himself, as an innocent man. The strongest thing against him is -his preparation for flight, and his deciding to come back after -the murder of Arnold Armstrong. He was shrewd enough to disarm -suspicion as to the graver charge?" - -The evening dragged along slowly. Mrs. Watson came to my bedroom -before I went to bed and asked if I had any arnica. She showed -me a badly swollen hand, with reddish streaks running toward the -elbow; she said it was the hand she had hurt the night of the -murder a week before, and that she had not slept well since. It -looked to me as if it might be serious, and I told her to let -Doctor Stewart see it. - -The next morning Mrs. Watson went up to town on the eleven -train, and was admitted to the Charity Hospital. She was -suffering from blood-poisoning. I fully meant to go up and see -her there, but other things drove her entirely from my mind. I -telephoned to the hospital that day, however, and ordered a -private room for her, and whatever comforts she might be allowed. - -Mrs. Armstrong arrived Monday evening with her husband's body, -and the services were set for the next day. The house on -Chestnut Street, in town, had been opened, and Tuesday morning -Louise left us to go home. She sent for me before she went, and -I saw she had been crying. - -"How can I thank you, Miss Innes?" she said. "You have taken me -on faith, and--you have not asked me any questions. Some time, -perhaps, I can tell you; and when that time comes, you will all -despise me,--Halsey, too." - -I tried to tell her how glad I was to have had her but there was -something else she wanted to say. She said it finally, when she -had bade a constrained good-by to Halsey and the car was waiting -at the door. - -"Miss Innes," she said in a low tone, "if they--if there is any -attempt made to--to have you give up the house, do it, if -you possibly can. I am afraid--to have you stay." - -That was all. Gertrude went into town with her and saw her -safely home. She reported a decided coolness in the greeting -between Louise and her mother, and that Doctor Walker was there, -apparently in charge of the arrangements for the funeral. Halsey -disappeared shortly after Louise left and came home about nine -that night, muddy and tired. As for Thomas, he went around -dejected and sad, and I saw the detective watching him closely at -dinner. Even now I wonder--what did Thomas know? What did he -suspect? - -At ten o'clock the household had settled down for the night. -Liddy, who was taking Mrs. Watson's place, had finished examining -the tea-towels and the corners of the shelves in the cooling- -room, and had gone to bed. Alex, the gardener, had gone heavily -up the circular staircase to his room, and Mr. Jamieson was -examining the locks of the windows. Halsey dropped into a chair -in the living-room, and stared moodily ahead. Once he roused. - -"What sort of a looking chap is that Walker, Gertrude?" he asked! - -"Rather tall, very dark, smooth-shaven. Not bad looking," -Gertrude said, putting down the book she had been pretending to -read. Halsey kicked a taboret viciously. - -"Lovely place this village must be in the winter," he said -irrelevantly. "A girl would be buried alive here." - -It was then some one rapped at the knocker on the heavy front -door. Halsey got up leisurely and opened it, admitting Warner. -He was out of breath from running, and he looked half abashed. - -"I am sorry to disturb you," he said. "But I didn't know what -else to do. It's about Thomas." - -"What about Thomas?" I asked. Mr. Jamieson had come into the -hall and we all stared at Warner. - -"He's acting queer," Warner explained. "He's sitting down there -on the edge of the porch, and he says he has seen a ghost. The -old man looks bad, too; he can scarcely speak." - -"He's as full of superstition as an egg is of meat," I said. -"Halsey, bring some whisky and we will all go down." - -No one moved to get the whisky, from which I judged there were -three pocket flasks ready for emergency. Gertrude threw a -shawl around my shoulders, and we all started down over the hill: -I had made so many nocturnal excursions around the place that I -knew my way perfectly. But Thomas was not on the veranda, nor -was he inside the house. The men exchanged significant glances, -and Warner got a lantern. - -"He can't have gone far," he said. "He was trembling so that he -couldn't stand, when I left." - -Jamieson and Halsey together made the round of the lodge, -occasionally calling the old man by name. But there was no -response. No Thomas came, bowing and showing his white teeth -through the darkness. I began to be vaguely uneasy, for the -first time. Gertrude, who was never nervous in the dark, went -alone down the drive to the gate, and stood there, looking along -the yellowish line of the road, while I waited on the tiny -veranda. - -Warner was puzzled. He came around to the edge of the veranda -and stood looking at it as if it ought to know and explain. - -"He might have stumbled into the house," he said, "but he could -not have climbed the stairs. Anyhow, he's not inside or outside, -that I can see." The other members of the party had come back -now, and no one had found any trace of the old man. His -pipe, still warm, rested on the edge of the rail, and inside on -the table his old gray hat showed that its owner had not gone -far. - -He was not far, after all. From the table my eyes traveled -around the room, and stopped at the door of a closet. I hardly -know what impulse moved me, but I went in and turned the knob. -It burst open with the impetus of a weight behind it, and -something fell partly forward in a heap on the floor. It was -Thomas--Thomas without a mark of injury on him, and dead. - - - -CHAPTER XX - -DOCTOR WALKER'S WARNING - - -Warner was on his knees in a moment, fumbling at the old man's -collar to loosen it, but Halsey caught his hand. - -"Let him alone?" he said. "You can't help him; he is dead." - -We stood there, each avoiding the other's eyes; we spoke low and -reverently in the presence of death, and we tacitly avoided any -mention of the suspicion that was in every mind. When Mr. -Jamieson had finished his cursory examination, he got up and -dusted the knees of his trousers. - -"There is no sign of injury," he said, and I know I, for one, -drew a long breath of relief. "From what Warner says and from -his hiding in the closet, I should say he was scared to death. -Fright and a weak heart, together." - -"But what could have done it?" Gertrude asked. "He was -all right this evening at dinner. Warner, what did he say when -you found him on the porch?" - -Warner looked shaken: his honest, boyish face was colorless. - -"Just what I told you, Miss Innes. He'd been reading the -paper down-stairs; I had put up the car, and, feeling sleepy, I -came down to the lodge to go to bed. As I went up-stairs, Thomas -put down the paper and, taking his pipe, went out on the porch. -Then I heard an exclamation from him." - -"What did he say?" demanded Jamieson. - -"I couldn't hear, but his voice was strange; it sounded -startled. I waited for him to call out again, but he did not, so -I went down-stairs. He was sitting on the porch step, looking -straight ahead, as if he saw something among the trees across the -road. And he kept mumbling about having seen a ghost. He looked -queer, and I tried to get him inside, but he wouldn't move. Then -I thought I'd better go up to the house." - -"Didn't he say anything else you could understand?" I asked. - -"He said something about the grave giving up its dead." - -Mr. Jamieson was going through the old man's pockets, and -Gertrude was composing his arms, folding them across his white -shirt-bosom, always so spotless. - -Mr. Jamieson looked up at me. - -"What was that you said to me, Miss Innes, about the murder -at the house being a beginning and not an end? By jove, I -believe you were right!" - -In the course of his investigations the detective had come to -the inner pocket of the dead butler's black coat. Here he found -some things that interested him. One was a small flat key, with -a red cord tied to it, and the other was a bit of white paper, on -which was written something in Thomas' cramped hand. Mr. -Jamieson read it: then he gave it to me. It was an address in -fresh ink-- - - LUCIEN WALLACE, 14 Elm Street, Richfield. - -As the card went around, I think both the detective and I -watched for any possible effect it might have, but, beyond -perplexity, there seemed to be none. - -"Richfield!" Gertrude exclaimed. "Why, Elm Street is the -main street; don't you remember, Halsey?" - -"Lucien Wallace!" Halsey said. "That is the child Stewart spoke -of at the inquest." - -Warner, with his mechanic's instinct, had reached for the key. -What he said was not a surprise. - -"Yale lock," he said. "Probably a key to the east entry." - -There was no reason why Thomas, an old and trusted servant, -should not have had a key to that particular door, although the -servants' entry was in the west wing. But I had not known of -this key, and it opened up a new field of conjecture. Just now, -however, there were many things to be attended to, and, leaving -Warner with the body, we all went back to the house. Mr. -Jamieson walked with me, while Halsey and Gertrude followed. - -"I suppose I shall have to notify the Armstrongs," I said. "They -will know if Thomas had any people and how to reach them. Of -course, I expect to defray the expenses of the funeral, but his -relatives must be found. What do you think frightened him, Mr. -Jamieson?" - -"It is hard to say," he replied slowly, "but I think we may be -certain it was fright, and that he was hiding from something. I -am sorry in more than one way: I have always believed that -Thomas knew something, or suspected something, that he would not -tell. Do you know hour much money there was in that worn-out -wallet of his? Nearly a hundred dollars! Almost two months' -wages--and yet those darkies seldom have a penny. Well--what -Thomas knew will be buried with him." - -Halsey suggested that the grounds be searched, but Mr. Jamieson -vetoed the suggestion. - -"You would find nothing," he said. "A person clever enough to -get into Sunnyside and tear a hole in the wall, while I watched -down-stairs, is not to be found by going around the shrubbery -with a lantern." - -With the death of Thomas, I felt that a climax had come in -affairs at Sunnyside. The night that followed was quiet enough. -Halsey watched at the foot of the staircase, and a complicated -system of bolts on the other doors seemed to be effectual. - -Once in the night I wakened and thought I heard the tapping -again. But all was quiet, and I had reached the stage where I -refused to be disturbed for minor occurrences. - -The Armstrongs were notified of Thomas' death, and I had my first -interview with Doctor Walker as a result. He came up early -the next morning, just as we finished breakfast, in a -professional looking car with a black hood. I found him striding -up and down the living-room, and, in spite of my preconceived -dislike, I had to admit that the man was presentable. A big -fellow he was, tall and dark, as Gertrude had said, smooth-shaven -and erect, with prominent features and a square jaw. He was -painfully spruce in his appearance, and his manner was almost -obtrusively polite. - -"I must make a double excuse for this early visit, Miss Innes," -he said as he sat down. The chair was lower than he expected, -and his dignity required collecting before he went on. "My -professional duties are urgent and long neglected, and"--a fall -to the every-day manner--"something must be done about that -body." - -"Yes," I said, sitting on the edge of my chair. "I merely wished -the address of Thomas' people. You might have telephoned, if you -were busy." - -He smiled. - -"I wished to see you about something else," he said. "As for -Thomas, it is Mrs. Armstrong's wish that you would allow her to -attend to the expense. About his relatives, I have already -notified his brother, in the village. It was heart disease, I -think. Thomas always had a bad heart." - -"Heart disease and fright," I said, still on the edge of my -chair. But the doctor had no intention of leaving. - -"I understand you have a ghost up here, and that you have the -house filled with detectives to exorcise it," he said. - -For some reason I felt I was being "pumped," as Halsey says. -"You have been misinformed," I replied. - -"What, no ghost, no detectives!" he said, still with his smile. -"What a disappointment to the village!" - -I resented his attempt at playfulness. It had been anything but -a joke to us. - -"Doctor Walker," I said tartly, "I fail to see any humor in the -situation. Since I came here, one man has been shot, and another -one has died from shock. There have been intruders in the house, -and strange noises. If that is funny, there is something wrong -with my sense of humor." - -"You miss the point," he said, still good-naturedly. "The thing -that is funny, to me, is that you insist on remaining here, -under the circumstances. I should think nothing would keep you." - -"You are mistaken. Everything that occurs only confirms my -resolution to stay until the mystery is cleared." - -"I have a message for you, Miss Innes," he said, rising at -last. "Mrs. Armstrong asked me to thank you for your kindness to -Louise, whose whim, occurring at the time it did, put her to -great inconvenience. Also--and this is a delicate matter--she -asked me to appeal to your natural sympathy for her, at this -time, and to ask you if you will not reconsider your decision -about the house. Sunnyside is her home; she loves it dearly, and -just now she wishes to retire here for quiet and peace." - -"She must have had a change of heart," I said, ungraciously -enough. "Louise told me her mother despised the place. Besides, -this is no place for quiet and peace just now. Anyhow, doctor, -while I don't care to force an issue, I shall certainly remain -here, for a time at least." - -"For how long?" he asked. - -"My lease is for six months. I shall stay until some -explanation is found for certain things. My own family is -implicated now, and I shall do everything to clear the mystery of -Arnold Armstrong's murder." - -The doctor stood looking down, slapping his gloves -thoughtfully against the palm of a well-looked-after hand. - -"You say there have been intruders in the house?" he asked. -"You are sure of that, Miss Innes?" - -"Certain." - -"In what part?" - -"In the east wing." - -"Can you tell me when these intrusions occurred, and what the -purpose seemed to be? Was it robbery?" - -"No," I said decidedly. "As to time, once on Friday night a -week ago, again the following night, when Arnold Armstrong was -murdered, and again last Friday night." - -The doctor looked serious. He seemed to be debating some -question in his mind, and to reach a decision. - -"Miss Innes," he said, "I am in a peculiar position; I -understand your attitude, of course; but--do you think you are -wise? Ever since you have come here there have been hostile -demonstrations against you and your family. I'm not a -croaker, but--take a warning. Leave before anything occurs that -will cause you a lifelong regret." - -"I am willing to take the responsibility," I said coldly. - -I think he gave me up then as a poor proposition. He asked to be -shown where Arnold Armstrong's body had been found, and I took -him there. He scrutinized the whole place carefully, examining -the stairs and the lock. When he had taken a formal farewell I -was confident of one thing. Doctor Walker would do anything he -could to get me away from Sunnyside. - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -FOURTEEN ELM STREET - -It was Monday evening when we found the body of poor old Thomas. -Monday night had been uneventful; things were quiet at the house -and the peculiar circumstances of the old man's death had been -carefully kept from the servants. Rosie took charge of the -dining-room and pantry, in the absence of a butler, and, except -for the warning of the Casanova doctor, everything breathed of -peace. - -Affairs at the Traders' Bank were progressing slowly. The -failure had hit small stock-holders very hard, the minister of -the little Methodist chapel in Casanova among them. He had -received as a legacy from an uncle a few shares of stock in the -Traders' Bank, and now his joy was turned to bitterness: he had -to sacrifice everything he had in the world, and his feeling -against Paul Armstrong, dead, as he was, must have been bitter in -the extreme. He was asked to officiate at the simple -services when the dead banker's body was interred in Casanova -churchyard, but the good man providentially took cold, and a -substitute was called in. - -A few days after the services he called to see me, a kind-faced -little man, in a very bad frock-coat and laundered tie. I think -he was uncertain as to my connection with the Armstrong family, -and dubious whether I considered Mr. Armstrong's taking away a -matter for condolence or congratulation. He was not long in -doubt. - -I liked the little man. He had known Thomas well, and had -promised to officiate at the services in the rickety African Zion -Church. He told me more of himself than he knew, and before he -left, I astonished him--and myself, I admit--by promising a new -carpet for his church. He was much affected, and I gathered that -he had yearned over his ragged chapel as a mother over a half- -clothed child. - -"You are laying up treasure, Miss Innes," he said brokenly, -"where neither moth nor rust corrupt, nor thieves break through -and steal." - -"It is certainly a safer place than Sunnyside," I admitted. And -the thought of the carpet permitted him to smile. He stood -just inside the doorway, looking from the luxury of the house to -the beauty of the view. - -"The rich ought to be good," he said wistfully. "They have so -much that is beautiful, and beauty is ennobling. And yet--while -I ought to say nothing but good of the dead--Mr. Armstrong saw -nothing of this fair prospect. To him these trees and lawns were -not the work of God. They were property, at so much an acre. He -loved money, Miss Innes. He offered up everything to his golden -calf. Not power, not ambition, was his fetish: it was money." -Then he dropped his pulpit manner, and, turning to me with his -engaging smile: "In spite of all this luxury," he said, "the -country people here have a saying that Mr. Paul Armstrong could -sit on a dollar and see all around it. Unlike the summer people, -he gave neither to the poor nor to the church. He loved money -for its own sake." - -"And there are no pockets in shrouds!" I said cynically. - -I sent him home in the car, with a bunch of hot-house roses for -his wife, and he was quite overwhelmed. As for me, I had a -generous glow that was cheap at the price of a church -carpet. I received less gratification--and less gratitude--when -I presented the new silver communion set to St. Barnabas. - -I had a great many things to think about in those days. I made -out a list of questions and possible answers, but I seemed only -to be working around in a circle. I always ended where I began. -The list was something like this: - - -Who had entered the house the night before the murder? - -Thomas claimed it was Mr. Bailey, whom he had seen on the foot- -path, and who owned the pearl cuff-link. - -Why did Arnold Armstrong come back after he had left the house -the night he was killed? - -No answer. Was it on the mission Louise had mentioned? - -Who admitted him? - -Gertrude said she had locked the east entry. There was no key on -the dead man or in the door. He must have been admitted from -within. - -Who had been locked in the clothes chute? - -Some one unfamiliar with the house, evidently. Only two people -missing from the household, Rosie and Gertrude. Rosie had been -at the lodge. Therefore--but was it Gertrude? Might it not have -been the mysterious intruder again? - -Who had accosted Rosie on the drive? - -Again--perhaps the nightly visitor. It seemed more likely some -one who suspected a secret at the lodge. Was Louise under -surveillance? - -Who had passed Louise on the circular staircase? - -Could it have been Thomas? The key to the east entry made this a -possibility. But why was he there, if it were indeed he? - -Who had made the hole in the trunk-room wall? - -It was not vandalism. It had been done quietly, and with -deliberate purpose. If I had only known how to read the purpose -of that gaping aperture what I might have saved in anxiety and -mental strain! - -Why had Louise left her people and come home to hide at the -lodge? - -There was no answer, as yet, to this, or to the next questions. - -Why did both she and Doctor Walker warn us away from the house? - -Who was Lucien Wallace? - -What did Thomas see in the shadows the night he died? - -What was the meaning of the subtle change in Gertrude? - -Was Jack Bailey an accomplice or a victim in the looting of the -Traders' Bank? - -What all-powerful reason made Louise determine to marry Doctor -Walker? - - -The examiners were still working on the books of the Traders' -Bank, and it was probable that several weeks would elapse before -everything was cleared up. The firm of expert accountants who -had examined the books some two months before testified that -every bond, every piece of valuable paper, was there at that -time. It had been shortly after their examination that the -president, who had been in bad health, had gone to California. -Mr. Bailey was still ill at the Knickerbocker, and in this, as in -other ways, Gertrude's conduct puzzled me. She seemed -indifferent, refused to discuss matters pertaining to the bank, -and never, to my knowledge, either wrote to him or went to see -him. - -Gradually I came to the conclusion that Gertrude, with the rest -of the world, believed her lover guilty, and--although I believed -it myself, for that matter--I was irritated by her indifference. -Girls in my day did not meekly accept the public's verdict as to -the man they loved. - -But presently something occurred that made me think that under -Gertrude's surface calm there was a seething flood of emotions. - -Tuesday morning the detective made a careful search of the -grounds, but he found nothing. In the afternoon he disappeared, -and it was late that night when he came home. He said he would -have to go back to the city the following day, and arranged with -Halsey and Alex to guard the house. - -Liddy came to me on Wednesday morning with her black silk apron -held up like a bag, and her eyes big with virtuous wrath. It was -the day of Thomas' funeral in the village, and Alex and I were in -the conservatory cutting flowers for the old man's casket. Liddy -is never so happy as when she is making herself wretched, and now -her mouth drooped while her eyes were triumphant. - -"I always said there were plenty of things going on here, -right under our noses, that we couldn't see," she said, holding -out her apron. - -"I don't see with my nose," I remarked. "What have you got -there?" - -Liddy pushed aside a half-dozen geranium pots, and in the space -thus cleared she dumped the contents of her apron--a handful of -tiny bits of paper. Alex had stepped back, but I saw him -watching her curiously. - -"Wait a moment, Liddy," I said. "You have been going through the -library paper-basket again!" - -Liddy was arranging her bits of paper with the skill of long -practice and paid no attention. - -"Did it ever occur to you," I went on, putting my hand over the -scraps, "that when people tear up their correspondence, it is for -the express purpose of keeping it from being read?" - -"If they wasn't ashamed of it they wouldn't take so much trouble, -Miss Rachel," Liddy said oracularly. "More than that, with -things happening every day, I consider it my duty. If you don't -read and act on this, I shall give it to that Jamieson, and I'll -venture he'll not go back to the city to-day." - -That decided me. If the scraps had anything to do with the -mystery ordinary conventions had no value. So Liddy arranged the -scraps, like working out one of the puzzle-pictures children play -with, and she did it with much the same eagerness. When it was -finished she stepped aside while I read it. - -"Wednesday night, nine o'clock. Bridge," I real aloud. Then, -aware of Alex's stare, I turned on Liddy. - -"Some one is to play bridge to-night at nine o'clock," I said. -"Is that your business, or mine?" - -Liddy was aggrieved. She was about to reply when I scooped up -the pieces and left the conservatory. - -"Now then," I said, when we got outside, "will you tell me why -you choose to take Alex into your confidence? He's no fool. Do -you suppose he thinks any one in this house is going to play -bridge to-night at nine o'clock, by appointment! I suppose you -have shown it in the kitchen, and instead of my being able to -slip down to the bridge to-night quietly, and see who is there, -the whole household will be going in a procession." - -"Nobody knows it," Liddy said humbly. "I found it in the basket -in Miss Gertrude's dressing-room. Look at the back of the -sheet." I turned over some of the scraps, and, sure enough, -it was a blank deposit slip from the Traders' Bank. So Gertrude -was going to meet Jack Bailey that night by the bridge! And I -had thought he was ill! It hardly seemed like the action of an -innocent man--this avoidance of daylight, and of his fiancee's -people. I decided to make certain, however, by going to the -bridge that night. - -After luncheon Mr. Jamieson suggested that I go with him to -Richfield, and I consented. - -"I am inclined to place more faith in Doctor Stewart's story," he -said, "since I found that scrap in old Thomas' pocket. It bears -out the statement that the woman with the child, and the woman -who quarreled with Armstrong, are the same. It looks as if -Thomas had stumbled on to some affair which was more or less -discreditable to the dead man, and, with a certain loyalty to the -family, had kept it to himself. Then, you see, your story about -the woman at the card-room window begins to mean something. It -is the nearest approach to anything tangible that we have had -yet." - -Warner took us to Richfield in the car. It was about twenty-five -miles by railroad, but by taking a series of atrociously rough -short cuts we got there very quickly. It was a pretty little -town, on the river, and back on the hill I could see the -Mortons' big country house, where Halsey and Gertrude had been -staying until the night of the murder. - -Elm Street was almost the only street, and number fourteen was -easily found. It was a small white house, dilapidated without -having gained anything picturesque, with a low window and a porch -only a foot or so above the bit of a lawn. There was a baby- -carriage in the path, and from a swing at the side came the sound -of conflict. Three small children were disputing vociferously, -and a faded young woman with a kindly face was trying to hush the -clamor. When she saw us she untied her gingham apron and came -around to the porch. - -"Good afternoon," I said. Jamieson lifted his hat, without -speaking. "I came to inquire about a child named Lucien -Wallace." - -"I am glad you have come," she said. "In spite of the other -children, I think the little fellow is lonely. We thought -perhaps his mother would be here to-day." - -Mr. Jamieson stepped forward. - -"You are Mrs. Tate?" I wondered how the detective knew. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Mrs. Tate, we want to make some inquiries. Perhaps in the -house--" - -"Come right in," she said hospitably. And soon we were in the -little shabby parlor, exactly like a thousand of its prototypes. -Mrs. Tate sat uneasily, her hands folded in her lap. - -"How long has Lucien been here?" Mr. Jamieson asked. - -"Since a week ago last Friday. His mother paid one week's board -in advance; the other has not been paid." - -"Was he ill when he came?" - -"No, sir, not what you'd call sick. He was getting better of -typhoid, she said, and he's picking up fine." - -"Will you tell me his mother's name and address?" - -"That's the trouble," the young woman said, knitting her brows. -"She gave her name as Mrs. Wallace, and said she had no address. -She was looking for a boarding-house in town. She said she -worked in a department store, and couldn't take care of the child -properly, and he needed fresh air and milk. I had three children -of my own, and one more didn't make much difference in the work, -but--I wish she would pay this week's board." - -"Did she say what store it was?" - -"No, sir, but all the boy's clothes came from King's. He has far -too fine clothes for the country." - -There was a chorus of shouts and shrill yells from the front -door, followed by the loud stamping of children's feet and a -throaty "whoa, whoa!" Into the room came a tandem team of two -chubby youngsters, a boy and a girl, harnessed with a clothes- -line, and driven by a laughing boy of about seven, in tan -overalls and brass buttons. The small driver caught my attention -at once: he was a beautiful child, and, although he showed traces -of recent severe illness, his skin had now the clear transparency -of health. - -"Whoa, Flinders," he shouted. "You're goin' to smash the trap." - -Mr. Jamieson coaxed him over by holding out a lead-pencil, -striped blue and yellow. - -"Now, then," he said, when the boy had taken the lead-pencil and -was testing its usefulness on the detective's cuff, "now then, -I'll bet you don't know what your name is!" - -"I do," said the boy. "Lucien Wallace." - -"Great! And what's your mother's name?" - -"Mother, of course. What's your mother's name?" And he -pointed to me! I am going to stop wearing black: it doubles a -woman's age. - -"And where did you live before you came here?" The detective was -polite enough not to smile. - -"Grossmutter," he said. And I saw Mr. Jamieson's eyebrows go -up. - -"German," he commented. "Well, young man, you don't seem to know -much about yourself." - -"I've tried it all week," Mrs. Tate broke in. "The boy knows a -word or two of German, but he doesn't know where he lived, or -anything about himself." - -Mr. Jamieson wrote something on a card and gave it to her. - -"Mrs. Tate," he said, "I want you to do something. Here is some -money for the telephone call. The instant the boy's mother -appears here, call up that number and ask for the person whose -name is there. You can run across to the drug-store on an errand -and do it quietly. Just say, `The lady has come.'" - -"`The lady has come,'" repeated Mrs. Tate. "Very well, sir, and -I hope it will be soon. The milk-bill alone is almost double -what it was." - -"How much is the child's board?" I asked. - -"Three dollars a week, including his washing." - -"Very well," I said. "Now, Mrs. Tate, I am going to pay last -week's board and a week in advance. If the mother comes, she is -to know nothing of this visit--absolutely not a word, and, in -return for your silence, you may use this money for--something -for your own children." - -Her tired, faded face lighted up, and I saw her glance at the -little Tates' small feet. Shoes, I divined--the feet of the -genteel poor being almost as expensive as their stomachs. - -As we went back Mr. Jamieson made only one remark: I think he -was laboring under the weight of a great disappointment. - -"Is King's a children's outfitting place?" he asked. - -"Not especially. It is a general department store." - -He was silent after that, but he went to the telephone as soon as -we got home, and called up King and Company, in the city. - -After a time he got the general manager, and they talked for some -time. When Mr. Jamieson hung up the receiver he turned to me. - -"The plot thickens," he said with his ready smile. "There are -four women named Wallace at King's none of them married, and none -over twenty. I think I shall go up to the city to-night. -I want to go to the Children's Hospital. But before I go, Miss -Innes, I wish you would be more frank with me than you have been -yet. I want you to show me the revolver you picked up in the -tulip bed." - -So he had known all along! - -"It WAS a revolver, Mr. Jamieson," I admitted, cornered at -last, "but I can not show it to you. It is not in my -possession." - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A LADDER OUT OF PLACE - -At dinner Mr. Jamieson suggested sending a man out in his place -for a couple of days, but Halsey was certain there would be -nothing more, and felt that he and Alex could manage the -situation. The detective went back to town early in the evening, -and by nine o'clock Halsey, who had been playing golf--as a man -does anything to take his mind away from trouble--was sleeping -soundly on the big leather davenport in the living-room. - -I sat and knitted, pretending not to notice when Gertrude got up -and wandered out into the starlight. As soon as I was satisfied -that she had gone, however, I went out cautiously. I had no -intention of eavesdropping, but I wanted to be certain that it -was Jack Bailey she was meeting. Too many things had occurred in -which Gertrude was, or appeared to be, involved, to allow -anything to be left in question. - -I went slowly across the lawn, skirted the hedge to a break not -far from the lodge, and found myself on the open road. Perhaps a -hundred feet to the left the path led across the valley to the -Country Club, and only a little way off was the foot-bridge over -Casanova Creek. But just as I was about to turn down the path I -heard steps coming toward me, and I shrank into the bushes. It -was Gertrude, going back quickly toward the house. - -I was surprised. I waited until she had had time to get almost -to the house before I started. And then I stepped back again -into the shadows. The reason why Gertrude had not kept her tryst -was evident. Leaning on the parapet of the bridge in the -moonlight, and smoking a pipe, was Alex, the gardener. I could -have throttled Liddy for her carelessness in reading the torn -note where he could hear. And I could cheerfully have choked -Alex to death for his audacity. - -But there was no help for it: I turned and followed Gertrude -slowly back to the house. - -The frequent invasions of the house had effectually prevented any -relaxation after dusk. We had redoubled our vigilance as to -bolts and window-locks but, as Mr. Jamieson had suggested, we -allowed the door at the east entry to remain as before, -locked by the Yale lock only. To provide only one possible -entrance for the invader, and to keep a constant guard in the -dark at the foot of the circular staircase, seemed to be the only -method. - -In the absence of the detective, Alex and Halsey arranged to -change off, Halsey to be on duty from ten to two, and Alex from -two until six. Each man was armed, and, as an additional -precaution, the one off duty slept in a room near the head of the -circular staircase and kept his door open, to be ready for -emergency. - -These arrangements were carefully kept from the servants, who -were only commencing to sleep at night, and who retired, one and -all, with barred doors and lamps that burned full until morning. - -The house was quiet again Wednesday night. It was almost a week -since Louise had encountered some one on the stairs, and it was -four days since the discovery of the hole in the trunk-room wall. - -Arnold Armstrong and his father rested side by side in the -Casanova churchyard, and at the Zion African Church, on the hill, -a new mound marked the last resting-place of poor Thomas. - - -Louise was with her mother in town, and, beyond a polite note of -thanks to me, we had heard nothing from her. Doctor Walker had -taken up his practice again, and we saw him now and then flying -past along the road, always at top speed. The murder of Arnold -Armstrong was still unavenged, and I remained firm in the -position I had taken--to stay at Sunnyside until the thing was at -least partly cleared. - -And yet, for all its quiet, it was on Wednesday night that -perhaps the boldest attempt was made to enter the house. On -Thursday afternoon the laundress sent word she would like to -speak to me, and I saw her in my private sitting-room, a small -room beyond the dressing-room. - -Mary Anne was embarrassed. She had rolled down her sleeves and -tied a white apron around her waist, and she stood making folds -in it with fingers that were red and shiny from her soap-suds. - -"Well, Mary," I said encouragingly, "what's the matter? Don't -dare to tell me the soap is out." - -"No, ma'm, Miss Innes." She had a nervous habit of looking first -at my one eye and then at the other, her own optics shifting -ceaselessly, right eye, left eye, right eye, until I found myself -doing the same thing. "No, ma'm. I was askin' did you want -the ladder left up the clothes chute?" - -"The what?" I screeched, and was sorry the next minute. Seeing -her suspicions were verified, Mary Anne had gone white, and stood -with her eyes shifting more wildly than ever. - -"There's a ladder up the clothes chute, Miss Innes," she said. -"It's up that tight I can't move it, and I didn't like to ask for -help until I spoke to you." - -It was useless to dissemble; Mary Anne knew now as well as I did -that the ladder had no business to be there. I did the best I -could, however. I put her on the defensive at once. - -"Then you didn't lock the laundry last night?" - -"I locked it tight, and put the key in the kitchen on its nail." - -"Very well, then you forgot a window." - -Mary Anne hesitated. - -"Yes'm," she said at last. "I thought I locked them all, but -there was one open this morning." - -I went out of the room and down the hall, followed by Mary Anne. -The door into the clothes chute was securely bolted, and when I -opened it I saw the evidence of the woman's story. A pruning- -ladder had been brought from where it had lain against the -stable and now stood upright in the clothes shaft, its end -resting against the wall between the first and second floors. - -I turned to Mary. - -"This is due to your carelessness," I said. "If we had all been -murdered in our beds it would have been your fault." She -shivered. "Now, not a word of this through the house, and send -Alex to me." - -The effect on Alex was to make him apoplectic with rage, and with -it all I fancied there was an element of satisfaction. As I look -back, so many things are plain to me that I wonder I could not -see at the time. It is all known now, and yet the whole thing -was so remarkable that perhaps my stupidity was excusable. - -Alex leaned down the chute and examined the ladder carefully. - -"It is caught," he said with a grim smile. "The fools, to have -left a warning like that! The only trouble is, Miss Innes, they -won't be apt to come back for a while." - -"I shouldn't regard that in the light of a calamity," I replied. - -Until late that evening Halsey and Alex worked at the chute. -They forced down the ladder at last, and put a new bolt on the -door. As for myself, I sat and wondered if I had a deadly enemy, -intent on my destruction. - -I was growing more and more nervous. Liddy had given up all -pretense at bravery, and slept regularly in my dressing-room on -the couch, with a prayer-book and a game knife from the kitchen -under her pillow, thus preparing for both the natural and the -supernatural. That was the way things stood that Thursday night, -when I myself took a hand in the struggle. - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -WHILE THE STABLES BURNED - -About nine o'clock that night Liddy came into the living-room and -reported that one of the housemaids declared she had seen two men -slip around the corner of the stable. Gertrude had been sitting -staring in front of her, jumping at every sound. Now she turned -on Liddy pettishly. - -"I declare, Liddy," she said, "you are a bundle of nerves. What -if Eliza did see some men around the stable? It may have been -Warner and Alex." - -"Warner is in the kitchen, miss," Liddy said with dignity. "And -if you had come through what I have, you would be a bundle of -nerves, too. Miss Rachel, I'd be thankful if you'd give me my -month's wages to-morrow. I'll be going to my sister's." - -"Very well," I said, to her evident amazement. "I will make out -the check. Warner can take you down to the noon train." - -Liddy's face was really funny. - -"You'll have a nice time at your sister's," I went on. "Five -children, hasn't she?" - -"That's it," Liddy said, suddenly bursting into tears. "Send me -away, after all these years, and your new shawl only half done, -and nobody knowin' how to fix the water for your bath." - -"It's time I learned to prepare my own bath." I was knitting -complacently. But Gertrude got up and put her arms around -Liddy's shaking shoulders. - -"You are two big babies," she said soothingly. "Neither one of -you could get along for an hour without the other. So stop -quarreling and be good. Liddy, go right up and lay out Aunty's -night things. She is going to bed early." - -After Liddy had gone I began to think about the men at the -stable, and I grew more and more anxious. Halsey was aimlessly -knocking the billiard-balls around in the billiard-room, and I -called to him. - -"Halsey," I said when he sauntered in, "is there a policeman in -Casanova?" - -"Constable," he said laconically. "Veteran of the war, one arm; -in office to conciliate the G. A. R. element. Why?" - -"Because I am uneasy to-night." And I told him what Liddy had -said. "Is there any one you can think of who could be relied on -to watch the outside of the house to-night?" - -"We might get Sam Bohannon from the club," he said thoughtfully. -"It wouldn't be a bad scheme. He's a smart darky, and with his -mouth shut and his shirt-front covered, you couldn't see him a -yard off in the dark." - -Halsey conferred with Alex, and the result, in an hour, was Sam. -His instructions were simple. There had been numerous attempts -to break into the house; it was the intention, not to drive -intruders away, but to capture them. If Sam saw anything -suspicious outside, he was to tap at the east entry, where Alex -and Halsey were to alternate in keeping watch through the night. - -It was with a comfortable feeling of security that I went to bed -that night. The door between Gertrude's rooms and mine had been -opened, and, with the doors into the hall bolted, we were safe -enough. Although Liddy persisted in her belief that doors would -prove no obstacles to our disturbers. - -As before, Halsey watched the east entry from ten until two. -He had an eye to comfort, and he kept vigil in a heavy oak chair, -very large and deep. We went up-stairs rather early, and through -the open door Gertrude and I kept up a running fire of -conversation. Liddy was brushing my hair, and Gertrude was doing -her own, with a long free sweep of her strong round arms. - -"Did you know Mrs. Armstrong and Louise are in the village?" she -called. - -"No," I replied, startled. "How did you hear it?" - -"I met the oldest Stewart girl to-day, the doctor's daughter, and -she told me they had not gone back to town after the funeral. -They went directly to that little yellow house next to Doctor -Walker's, and are apparently settled there. They took the house -furnished for the summer." - -"Why, it's a bandbox," I said. "I can't imagine Fanny Armstrong -in such a place." - -"It's true, nevertheless. Ella Stewart says Mrs. Armstrong has -aged terribly, and looks as if she is hardly able to walk." - -I lay and thought over some of these things until midnight. The -electric lights went out then, fading slowly until there was only -a red-hot loop to be seen in the bulb, and then even that -died away and we were embarked on the darkness of another night. - -Apparently only a few minutes elapsed, during which my eyes were -becoming accustomed to the darkness. Then I noticed that the -windows were reflecting a faint pinkish light, Liddy noticed it -at the same time, and I heard her jump up. At that moment Sam's -deep voice boomed from somewhere just below. - -"Fire!" he yelled. "The stable's on fire!" - -I could see him in the glare dancing up and down on the drive, -and a moment later Halsey joined him. Alex was awake and running -down the stairs, and in five minutes from the time the fire was -discovered, three of the maids were sitting on their trunks in -the drive, although, excepting a few sparks, there was no fire -nearer than a hundred yards. - -Gertrude seldom loses her presence of mind, and she ran to the -telephone. But by the time the Casanova volunteer fire -department came toiling up the hill the stable was a furnace, -with the Dragon Fly safe but blistered, in the road. Some -gasolene exploded just as the volunteer department got to work, -which shook their nerves as well as the burning building. The -stable, being on a hill, was a torch to attract the -population from every direction. Rumor had it that -Sunnyside was burning, and it was amazing how many people threw -something over their night-clothes and flew to the conflagration. - -I take it Casanova has few fires, and Sunnyside was furnishing -the people, in one way and another, the greatest excitement they -had had for years. - -The stable was off the west wing. I hardly know how I came to -think of the circular staircase and the unguarded door at its -foot. Liddy was putting my clothes into sheets, preparatory to -tossing them out the window, when I found her, and I could hardly -persuade her to stop. - -"I want you to come with me, Liddy," I said. "Bring a candle and -a couple of blankets." - -She lagged behind considerably when she saw me making for the -east wing, and at the top of the staircase she balked. - -"I am not going down there," she said firmly. - -"There is no one guarding the door down there," I explained. -"Who knows?--this may be a scheme to draw everybody away from -this end of the house, and let some one in here." - -The instant I had said it I was convinced I had hit on the -explanation, and that perhaps it was already too late. It seemed -to me as I listened that I heard stealthy footsteps on the east -porch, but there was so much shouting outside that it was -impossible to tell. Liddy was on the point of retreat. - -"Very well," I said, "then I shall go down alone. Run back to -Mr. Halsey's room and get his revolver. Don't shoot down the -stairs if you hear a noise: remember--I shall be down there. And -hurry." - -I put the candle on the floor at the top of the staircase and -took off my bedroom slippers. Then I crept down the stairs, -going very slowly, and listening with all my ears. I was keyed -to such a pitch that I felt no fear: like the condemned who sleep -and eat the night before execution, I was no longer able to -suffer apprehension. I was past that. Just at the foot of the -stairs I stubbed my toe against Halsey's big chair, and had to -stand on one foot in a soundless agony until the pain subsided to -a dull ache. And then--I knew I was right. Some one had put a -key into the lock, and was turning it. For some reason it -refused to work, and the key was withdrawn. There was a -muttering of voices outside: I had only a second. Another trial, -and the door would open. The candle above made a faint -gleam down the well-like staircase, and at that moment, with a -second, no more, to spare, I thought of a plan. - -The heavy oak chair almost filled the space between the newel -post and the door. With a crash I had turned it on its side, -wedging it against the door, its legs against the stairs. I -could hear a faint scream from Liddy, at the crash, and then she -came down the stairs on a run, with the revolver held straight -out in front of her. - -"Thank God," she said, in a shaking voice. "I thought it was -you." - -I pointed to the door, and she understood. - -"Call out the windows at the other end of the house," I -whispered. "Run. Tell them not to wait for anything." - -She went up the stairs at that, two at a time. Evidently she -collided with the candle, for it went out, and I was left in -darkness. - -I was really astonishingly cool. I remember stepping over the -chair and gluing my ear to the door, and I shall never forget -feeling it give an inch or two there in the darkness, under a -steady pressure from without. But the chair held, although I -could hear an ominous cracking of one of the legs. And -then, without the slightest warning, the card-room window broke -with a crash. I had my finger on the trigger of the revolver, -and as I jumped it went off, right through the door. Some one -outside swore roundly, and for the first time I could hear what -was said. - -"Only a scratch. . . . Men are at the other end of the -house. . . . Have the whole rat's nest on us." And a lot of -profanity which I won't write down. The voices were at the -broken window now, and although I was trembling violently, I was -determined that I would hold them until help came. I moved up -the stairs until I could see into the card-room, or rather -through it, to the window. As I looked a small man put his leg -over the sill and stepped into the room. The curtain confused -him for a moment; then he turned, not toward me, but toward the -billiard-room door. I fired again, and something that was glass -or china crashed to the ground. Then I ran up the stairs and -along the corridor to the main staircase. Gertrude was standing -there, trying to locate the shots, and I must have been a -peculiar figure, with my hair in crimps, my dressing-gown flying, -no slippers, and a revolver clutched in my hands I had no time to -talk. There was the sound of footsteps in the lower hall, -and some one bounded up the stairs. - -I had gone Berserk, I think. I leaned over the stair-rail and -fired again. Halsey, below, yelled at me. - -"What are you doing up there?" he yelled. "You missed me by an -inch." - -And then I collapsed and fainted. When I came around Liddy was -rubbing my temples with eau de quinine, and the search was in -full blast. - -Well, the man was gone. The stable burned to the ground, while -the crowd cheered at every falling rafter, and the volunteer fire -department sprayed it with a garden hose. And in the house Alex -and Halsey searched every corner of the lower floor, finding no -one. - -The truth of my story was shown by the broken window and the -overturned chair. That the unknown had got up-stairs was almost -impossible. He had not used the main staircase, there was no way -to the upper floor in the east wing, and Liddy had been at the -window, in the west wing, where the servants' stair went up. But -we did not go to bed at all. Sam Bohannon and Warner helped in -the search, and not a closet escaped scrutiny. Even the cellars -were given a thorough overhauling, without result. The door -in the east entry had a hole through it where my bullet had gone. - -The hole slanted downward, and the bullet was embedded in the -porch. Some reddish stains showed it had done execution. - -"Somebody will walk lame," Halsey said, when he had marked the -course of the bullet. "It's too low to have hit anything but a -leg or foot." - -From that time on I watched every person I met for a limp, and to -this day the man who halts in his walk is an object of suspicion -to me. But Casanova had no lame men: the nearest approach to it -was an old fellow who tended the safety gates at the railroad, -and he, I learned on inquiry, had two artificial legs. Our man -had gone, and the large and expensive stable at Sunnyside was a -heap of smoking rafters and charred boards. Warner swore the -fire was incendiary, and in view of the attempt to enter the -house, there seemed to be no doubt of it. - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -FLINDERS - -If Halsey had only taken me fully into his confidence, through -the whole affair, it would have been much simpler. If he had -been altogether frank about Jack Bailey, and if the day after the -fire he had told me what he suspected, there would have been no -harrowing period for all of us, with the boy in danger. But -young people refuse to profit by the experience of their elders, -and sometimes the elders are the ones to suffer. - -I was much used up the day after the fire, and Gertrude insisted -on my going out. The machine was temporarily out of commission, -and the carriage horses had been sent to a farm for the summer. -Gertrude finally got a trap from the Casanova liveryman, and we -went out. Just as we turned from the drive into the road we -passed a woman. She had put down a small valise, and stood -inspecting the house and grounds minutely. I should -hardly have noticed her, had it not been for the fact that she -had been horribly disfigured by smallpox. - -"Ugh!" Gertrude said, when we had passed, "what a face! I shall -dream of it to-night. Get up, Flinders." - -"Flinders?" I asked. "Is that the horse's name?" - -"It is." She flicked the horse's stubby mane with the whip. "He -didn't look like a livery horse, and the liveryman said he had -bought him from the Armstrongs when they purchased a couple of -motors and cut down the stable. Nice Flinders--good old boy!" - -Flinders was certainly not a common name for a horse, and yet the -youngster at Richfield had named his prancing, curly-haired -little horse Flinders! It set me to thinking. - -At my request Halsey had already sent word of the fire to the -agent from whom we had secured the house. Also, he had called -Mr. Jamieson by telephone, and somewhat guardedly had told him of -the previous night's events. Mr. Jamieson promised to come out -that night, and to bring another man with him. I did not -consider it necessary to notify Mrs. Armstrong, in the village. -No doubt she knew of the fire, and in view of my refusal to -give up the house, an interview would probably have been -unpleasant enough. But as we passed Doctor Walker's white and -green house I thought of something. - -"Stop here, Gertrude," I said. "I am going to get out." - -"To see Louise?" she asked. - -"No, I want to ask this young Walker something." - -She was curious, I knew, but I did not wait to explain. I went -up the walk to the house, where a brass sign at the side -announced the office, and went in. The reception-room was empty, -but from the consulting-room beyond came the sound of two voices, -not very amicable. - -"It is an outrageous figure," some one was storming. Then the -doctor's quiet tone, evidently not arguing, merely stating -something. But I had not time to listen to some person probably -disputing his bill, so I coughed. The voices ceased at once: a -door closed somewhere, and the doctor entered from the hall of -the house. He looked sufficiently surprised at seeing me. - -"Good afternoon, Doctor," I said formally. "I shall not -keep you from your patient. I wish merely to ask you a -question." - -"Won't you sit down?" - -"It will not be necessary. Doctor, has any one come to you, -either early this morning or to-day, to have you treat a bullet -wound?" - -"Nothing so startling has happened to me," he said. "A bullet -wound! Things must be lively at Sunnyside." - -"I didn't say it was at Sunnyside. But as it happens, it was. -If any such case comes to you, will it be too much trouble for -you to let me know?" - -"I shall be only too happy," he said. "I understand you have had -a fire up there, too. A fire and shooting in one night is rather -lively for a quiet place like that." - -"It is as quiet as a boiler-shop," I replied, as I turned to go. - -"And you are still going to stay?" - -"Until I am burned out," I responded. And then on my way down -the steps, I turned around suddenly. - -"Doctor," I asked at a venture, "have you ever heard of a child -named Lucien Wallace?" - -Clever as he was, his face changed and stiffened. He was on his -guard again in a moment. - -"Lucien Wallace?" he repeated. "No, I think not. There are -plenty of Wallaces around, but I don't know any Lucien." - -I was as certain as possible that he did. People do not lie -readily to me, and this man lied beyond a doubt. But there was -nothing to be gained now; his defenses were up, and I left, half -irritated and wholly baffled. - -Our reception was entirely different at Doctor Stewart's. Taken -into the bosom of the family at once, Flinders tied outside and -nibbling the grass at the roadside, Gertrude and I drank some -home-made elderberry wine and told briefly of the fire. Of the -more serious part of the night's experience, of course, we said -nothing. But when at last we had left the family on the porch -and the good doctor was untying our steed, I asked him the same -question I had put to Doctor Walker. - -"Shot!" he said. "Bless my soul, no. Why, what have you been -doing up at the big house, Miss Innes?" - -"Some one tried to enter the house during the fire, and was -shot and slightly injured," I said hastily. "Please don't -mention it; we wish to make as little of it as possible." - -There was one other possibility, and we tried that. At Casanova -station I saw the station master, and asked him if any trains -left Casanova between one o'clock and daylight. There was none -until six A.M. The next question required more diplomacy. - -"Did you notice on the six-o'clock train any person--any man--who -limped a little?" I asked. "Please try to remember: we are -trying to trace a man who was seen loitering around Sunnyside -last night before the fire." - -He was all attention in a moment. - -"I was up there myself at the fire," he said volubly. "I'm a -member of the volunteer company. First big fire we've had since -the summer house burned over to the club golf links. My wife was -sayin' the other day, `Dave, you might as well 'a' saved the -money in that there helmet and shirt.' And here last night they -came in handy. Rang that bell so hard I hadn't time scarcely to -get 'em on." - -"And--did you see a man who limped?" Gertrude put in, as he -stopped for breath. - -"Not at the train, ma'm," he said. "No such person got on here -to-day. But I'll tell you where I did see a man that limped. I -didn't wait till the fire company left; there's a fast freight -goes through at four forty-five, and I had to get down to the -station. I seen there wasn't much more to do anyhow at the -fire--we'd got the flames under control"--Gertrude looked at me -and smiled--"so I started down the hill. There was folks here -and there goin' home, and along by the path to the Country Club I -seen two men. One was a short fellow. He was sitting on a big -rock, his back to me, and he had something white in his hand, as -if he was tying up his foot. After I'd gone on a piece I looked -back, and he was hobbling on and--excuse me, miss--he was -swearing something sickening." - -"Did they go toward the club?" Gertrude asked suddenly, leaning -forward. - -"No, miss. I think they came into the village. I didn't get a -look at their faces, but I know every chick and child in the -place, and everybody knows me. When they didn't shout at me--in -my uniform, you know--I took it they were strangers." - -So all we had for our afternoon's work was this: some one had -been shot by the bullet that went through the door; he had not -left the village, and he had not called in a physician. Also, -Doctor Walker knew who Lucien Wallace was, and his very denial -made me confident that, in that one direction at least, we were -on the right track. - -The thought that the detective would be there that night was the -most cheering thing of all, and I think even Gertrude was glad of -it. Driving home that afternoon, I saw her in the clear sunlight -for the first time in several days, and I was startled to see how -ill she looked. She was thin and colorless, and all her bright -animation was gone. - -"Gertrude," I said, "I have been a very selfish old woman. You -are going to leave this miserable house to-night. Annie Morton -is going to Scotland next week, and you shall go right with her." - -To my surprise, she flushed painfully. - -"I don't want to go, Aunt Ray," she said. "Don't make me leave -now." - -"You are losing your health and your good looks," I said -decidedly. "You should have a change." - -"I shan't stir a foot." She was equally decided. Then, more -lightly: "Why, you and Liddy need me to arbitrate between you -every day in the week." - -Perhaps I was growing suspicious of every one, but it seemed to -me that Gertrude's gaiety was forced and artificial. I watched -her covertly during the rest of the drive, and I did not like the -two spots of crimson in her pale cheeks. But I said nothing more -about sending her to Scotland: I knew she would not go. - - -CHAPTER XXV - -A VISIT FROM LOUISE - -That day was destined to be an eventful one, for when I entered -the house and found Eliza ensconced in the upper hall on a chair, -with Mary Anne doing her best to stifle her with household -ammonia, and Liddy rubbing her wrists--whatever good that is -supposed to do--I knew that the ghost had been walking again, and -this time in daylight. - -Eliza was in a frenzy of fear. She clutched at my sleeve when I -went close to her, and refused to let go until she had told her -story. Coming just after the fire, the household was -demoralized, and it was no surprise to me to find Alex and the -under-gardener struggling down-stairs with a heavy trunk between -them. - -"I didn't want to do it, Miss Innes," Alex said. "But she was so -excited, I was afraid she would do as she said--drag -it down herself, and scratch the staircase." - -I was trying to get my bonnet off and to keep the maids quiet at -the same time. "Now, Eliza, when you have washed your face and -stopped bawling," I said, "come into my sitting-room and tell me -what has happened." - -Liddy put away my things without speaking. The very set of her -shoulders expressed disapproval. - -"Well," I said, when the silence became uncomfortable, "things -seem to be warming up." - -Silence from Liddy, and a long sigh. - -"If Eliza goes, I don't know where to look for another cook." -More silence. - -"Rosie is probably a good cook." Sniff. - -"Liddy," I said at last, "don't dare to deny that you are having -the time of your life. You positively gloat in this excitement. -You never looked better. It's my opinion all this running -around, and getting jolted out of a rut, has stirred up that -torpid liver of yours." - -"It's not myself I'm thinking about," she said, goaded into -speech. "Maybe my liver was torpid, and maybe it wasn't; but I -know this: I've got some feelings left, and to see you -standing at the foot of that staircase shootin' through the -door--I'll never be the same woman again." - -"Well, I'm glad of that--anything for a change," I said. And in -came Eliza, flanked by Rosie and Mary Anne. - -Her story, broken with sobs and corrections from the other two, -was this: At two o'clock (two-fifteen, Rosie insisted) she had -gone up-stairs to get a picture from her room to show Mary Anne. -(A picture of a LADY, Mary Anne interposed.) She went up the -servants' staircase and along the corridor to her room, which lay -between the trunk-room and the unfinished ball-room. She heard a -sound as she went down the corridor, like some one moving -furniture, but she was not nervous. She thought it might be men -examining the house after the fire the night before, but she -looked in the trunk-room and saw nobody. - -She went into her room quietly. The noise had ceased, and -everything was quiet. Then she sat down on the side of her bed, -and, feeling faint--she was subject to spells--("I told you that -when I came, didn't I, Rosie?" "Yes'm, indeed she did!")--she -put her head down on her pillow and-- - -"Took a nap. All right!" I said. "Go on." - -"When I came to, Miss Innes, sure as I'm sittin' here, I thought -I'd die. Somethin' hit me on the face, and I set up, sudden. -And then I seen the plaster drop, droppin' from a little hole in -the wall. And the first thing I knew, an iron bar that long" -(fully two yards by her measure) "shot through that hole and -tumbled on the bed. If I'd been still sleeping" ("Fainting," -corrected Rosie) "I'd 'a' been hit on the head and killed!" - -"I wisht you'd heard her scream," put in Mary Anne. "And her -face as white as a pillow-slip when she tumbled down the stairs." - -"No doubt there is some natural explanation for it, Eliza," I -said. "You may have dreamed it, in your `fainting' attack. But -if it is true, the metal rod and the hole in the wall will show -it." - -Eliza looked a little bit sheepish. - -"The hole's there all right, Miss Innes," she said. "But the bar -was gone when Mary Anne and Rosie went up to pack my trunk." - -"That wasn't all," Liddy's voice came funereally from a corner. -"Eliza said that from the hole in the wall a burning eye looked -down at her!" - -"The wall must be at least six inches thick," I said with -asperity. "Unless the person who drilled the hole carried his -eyes on the ends of a stick, Eliza couldn't possibly have seen -them." - -But the fact remained, and a visit to Eliza's room proved it. I -might jeer all I wished: some one had drilled a hole in the -unfinished wall of the ball-room, passing between the bricks of -the partition, and shooting through the unresisting plaster of -Eliza's room with such force as to send the rod flying on to her -bed. I had gone up-stairs alone, and I confess the thing puzzled -me: in two or three places in the wall small apertures had been -made, none of them of any depth. Not the least mysterious thing -was the disappearance of the iron implement that had been used. - -I remembered a story I read once about an impish dwarf that lived -in the spaces between the double walls of an ancient castle. I -wondered vaguely if my original idea of a secret entrance to a -hidden chamber could be right, after all, and if we were housing -some erratic guest, who played pranks on us in the dark, and -destroyed the walls that he might listen, hidden safely away, to -our amazed investigations. - -Mary Anne and Eliza left that afternoon, but Rosie decided -to stay. It was about five o'clock when the hack came from the -station to get them, and, to my amazement, it had an occupant. -Matthew Geist, the driver, asked for me, and explained his errand -with pride. - -"I've brought you a cook, Miss Innes," he said. "When the -message came to come up for two girls and their trunks, I -supposed there was something doing, and as this here woman had -been looking for work in the village, I thought I'd bring her -along." - -Already I had acquired the true suburbanite ability to take -servants on faith; I no longer demanded written and unimpeachable -references. I, Rachel Innes, have learned not to mind if the -cook sits down comfortably in my sitting-room when she is taking -the orders for the day, and I am grateful if the silver is not -cleaned with scouring soap. And so that day I merely told Liddy -to send the new applicant in. When she came, however, I could -hardly restrain a gasp of surprise. It was the woman with the -pitted face. - -She stood somewhat awkwardly just inside the door, and she had an -air of self-confidence that was inspiring. Yes, she could cook; -was not a fancy cook, but could make good soups and desserts if -there was any one to take charge of the salads. And so, in -the end, I took her. As Halsey said, when we told him, it didn't -matter much about the cook's face, if it was clean. - -I have spoken of Halsey's restlessness. On that day it seemed to -be more than ever a resistless impulse that kept him out until -after luncheon. I think he hoped constantly that he might meet -Louise driving over the hills in her runabout: possibly he did -meet her occasionally, but from his continued gloom I felt sure -the situation between them was unchanged. - -Part of the afternoon I believe he read--Gertrude and I were out, -as I have said, and at dinner we both noticed that something had -occurred to distract him. He was disagreeable, which is unlike -him, nervous, looking at his watch every few minutes, and he ate -almost nothing. He asked twice during the meal on what train Mr. -Jamieson and the other detective were coming, and had long -periods of abstraction during which he dug his fork into my -damask cloth and did not hear when he was spoken to. He refused -dessert, and left the table early, excusing himself on the ground -that he wanted to see Alex. - -Alex, however, was not to be found. It was after eight when -Halsey ordered the car, and started down the hill at a pace that, -even for him, was unusually reckless. Shortly after, Alex -reported that he was ready to go over the house, preparatory to -closing it for the night. Sam Bohannon came at a quarter before -nine, and began his patrol of the grounds, and with the arrival -of the two detectives to look forward to, I was not especially -apprehensive. - -At half-past nine I heard the sound of a horse driven furiously -up the drive. It came to a stop in front of the house, and -immediately after there were hurried steps on the veranda. Our -nerves were not what they should have been, and Gertrude, always -apprehensive lately, was at the door almost instantly. A moment -later Louise had burst into the room and stood there bareheaded -and breathing hard! - -"Where is Halsey?" she demanded. Above her plain black gown her -eyes looked big and somber, and the rapid drive had brought no -color to her face. I got up and drew forward a chair. - -"He has not come back," I said quietly. "Sit down, child; you -are not strong enough for this kind of thing." - -I don't think she even heard me. - -"He has not come back?" she asked, looking from me to Gertrude. -"Do you know where he went? Where can I find him?" - -"For Heaven's sake, Louise," Gertrude burst out, "tell us what is -wrong. Halsey is not here. He has gone to the station for Mr. -Jamieson. What has happened?" - -"To the station, Gertrude? You are sure?" - -"Yes," I said. "Listen. There is the whistle of the train now." - -She relaxed a little at our matter-of-fact tone, and allowed -herself to sink into a chair. - -"Perhaps I was wrong," she said heavily. "He--will be here in a -few moments if--everything is right." - -We sat there, the three of us, without attempt at conversation. -Both Gertrude and I recognized the futility of asking Louise any -questions: her reticence was a part of a role she had assumed. -Our ears were strained for the first throb of the motor as it -turned into the drive and commenced the climb to the house. Ten -minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. I saw Louise's hands grow rigid -as they clutched the arms of her chair. I watched Gertrude's -bright color slowly ebbing away, and around my own heart I -seemed to feel the grasp of a giant hand. - -Twenty-five minutes, and then a sound. But it was not the chug -of the motor: it was the unmistakable rumble of the Casanova -hack. Gertrude drew aside the curtain and peered into the -darkness. - -"It's the hack, I am sure," she said, evidently relieved. -"Something has gone wrong with the car, and no wonder--the way -Halsey went down the hill." - -It seemed a long time before the creaking vehicle came to a stop -at the door. Louise rose and stood watching, her hand to her -throat. And then Gertrude opened the door, admitting Mr. -Jamieson and a stocky, middle-aged man. Halsey was not with -them. When the door had closed and Louise realized that Halsey -had not come, her expression changed. From tense watchfulness to -relief, and now again to absolute despair, her face was an open -page. - -"Halsey?" I asked unceremoniously, ignoring the stranger. "Did -he not meet you?" - -"No." Mr. Jamieson looked slightly surprised. "I rather -expected the car, but we got up all right." - -"You didn't see him at all?" Louise demanded breathlessly. - -Mr. Jamieson knew her at once, although he had not seen her -before. She had kept to her rooms until the morning she left. - -"No, Miss Armstrong," he said. "I saw nothing of him. What is -wrong?" - -"Then we shall have to find him," she asserted. "Every instant -is precious. Mr. Jamieson, I have reason for believing that he -is in danger, but I don't know what it is. Only--he must be -found." - -The stocky man had said nothing. Now, however, he went quickly -toward the door. - -"I'll catch the hack down the road and hold it," he said. "Is -the gentleman down in the town?" - -"Mr. Jamieson," Louise said impulsively, "I can use the hack. -Take my horse and trap outside and drive like mad. Try to find -the Dragon Fly--it ought to be easy to trace. I can think of no -other way. Only, don't lose a moment." - -The new detective had gone, and a moment later Jamieson went -rapidly down the drive, the cob's feet striking fire at every -step. Louise stood looking after them. When she turned around -she faced Gertrude, who stood indignant, almost tragic, in the -hall. - -"You KNOW what threatens Halsey, Louise," she said -accusingly. "I believe you know this whole horrible thing, this -mystery that we are struggling with. If anything happens to -Halsey, I shall never forgive you." - -Louise only raised her hands despairingly and dropped them again. - -"He is as dear to me as he is to you," she said sadly. "I tried -to warn him." - -"Nonsense!" I said, as briskly as I could. "We are making a lot -of trouble out of something perhaps very small. Halsey was -probably late--he is always late. Any moment we may hear the car -coming up the road." - -But it did not come. After a half-hour of suspense, Louise went -out quietly, and did not come back. I hardly knew she was gone -until I heard the station hack moving off. At eleven o'clock the -telephone rang. It was Mr. Jamieson. - -"I have found the Dragon Fly, Miss Innes," he said. "It has -collided with a freight car on the siding above the station. No, -Mr. Innes was not there, but we shall probably find him. Send -Warner for the car." - -But they did not find him. At four o'clock the next morning -we were still waiting for news, while Alex watched the house and -Sam the grounds. At daylight I dropped into exhausted sleep. -Halsey had not come back, and there was no word from the -detective. - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -HALSEY'S DISAPPEARANCE - -Nothing that had gone before had been as bad as this. The murder -and Thomas' sudden death we had been able to view in a detached -sort of way. But with Halsey's disappearance everything was -altered. Our little circle, intact until now, was broken. We -were no longer onlookers who saw a battle passing around them. -We were the center of action. Of course, there was no time then -to voice such an idea. My mind seemed able to hold only one -thought: that Halsey had been foully dealt with, and that every -minute lost might be fatal. - -Mr. Jamieson came back about eight o'clock the next morning: he -was covered with mud, and his hat was gone. Altogether, we were -a sad-looking trio that gathered around a breakfast that no one -could eat. Over a cup of black coffee the detective told us what -he had learned of Halsey's movements the night before. -Up to a certain point the car had made it easy enough to follow -him. And I gathered that Mr. Burns, the other detective, had -followed a similar car for miles at dawn, only to find it was a -touring car on an endurance run. - -"He left here about ten minutes after eight," Mr. Jamieson said. -"He went alone, and at eight twenty he stopped at Doctor -Walker's. I went to the doctor's about midnight, but he had been -called out on a case, and had not come back at four o'clock. -From the doctor's it seems Mr. Innes walked across the lawn to -the cottage Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter have taken. Mrs. -Armstrong had retired, and he said perhaps a dozen words to Miss -Louise. She will not say what they were, but the girl evidently -suspects what has occurred. That is, she suspects foul play, but -she doesn't know of what nature. Then, apparently, he started -directly for the station. He was going very fast--the flagman at -the Carol Street crossing says he saw the car pass. He knew the -siren. Along somewhere in the dark stretch between Carol Street -and the depot he evidently swerved suddenly--perhaps some one in -the road--and went full into the side of a freight. We found it -there last night." - -"He might have been thrown under the train by the force of the -shock," I said tremulously. - -Gertrude shuddered. - -"We examined every inch of track. There was--no sign." - -"But surely--he can't be--gone!" I cried. "Aren't there traces -in the mud--anything?" - -"There is no mud--only dust. There has been no rain. And the -footpath there is of cinders. Miss Innes, I am inclined to think -that he has met with bad treatment, in the light of what has gone -before. I do not think he has been murdered." I shrank from the -word. "Burns is back in the country, on a clue we got from the -night clerk at the drug-store. There will be two more men here -by noon, and the city office is on the lookout." - -"The creek?" Gertrude asked. - -"The creek is shallow now. If it were swollen with rain, it -would be different. There is hardly any water in it. Now, Miss -Innes," he said, turning to me, "I must ask you some questions. -Had Mr. Halsey any possible reason for going away like this, -without warning?" - -"None whatever." - -"He went away once before," he persisted. "And you were as sure -then." - -"He did not leave the Dragon Fly jammed into the side of a -freight car before." - -"No, but he left it for repairs in a blacksmith shop, a long -distance from here. Do you know if he had any enemies? Any one -who might wish him out of the way?" - -"Not that I know of, unless--no, I can not think of any." - -"Was he in the habit of carrying money?" - -"He never carried it far. No, he never had more than enough for -current expenses." - -Mr. Jamieson got up then and began to pace the room. It was an -unwonted concession to the occasion. - -"Then I think we get at it by elimination. The chances are -against flight. If he was hurt, we find no trace of him. It -looks almost like an abduction. This young Doctor Walker--have -you any idea why Mr. Innes should have gone there last night?" - -"I can not understand it," Gertrude said thoughtfully. "I don't -think he knew Doctor Walker at all, and--their relations could -hardly have been cordial, under the circumstances." - -Jamieson pricked up his ears, and little by little he drew from -us the unfortunate story of Halsey's love affair, and the fact -that Louise was going to marry Doctor Walker. - -Mr. Jamieson listened attentively. - -"There are some interesting developments here," he said -thoughtfully. "The woman who claims to be the mother of Lucien -Wallace has not come back. Your nephew has apparently been -spirited away. There is an organized attempt being made to enter -this house; in fact, it has been entered. Witness the incident -with the cook yesterday. And I have a new piece of information." - -He looked carefully away from Gertrude. "Mr. John Bailey is not -at his Knickerbocker apartments, and I don't know where he is. -It's a hash, that's what it is. It's a Chinese puzzle. They -won't fit together, unless--unless Mr. Bailey and your nephew -have again--" - -And once again Gertrude surprised me. "They are not together," -she said hotly. "I--know where Mr. Bailey is, and my brother is -not with him." - -The detective turned and looked at her keenly. - -"Miss Gertrude," he said, "if you and Miss Louise would only tell -me everything you know and surmise about this business, I -should be able to do a great many things. I believe I could find -your brother, and I might be able to--well, to do some other -things." But Gertrude's glance did not falter. - -"Nothing that I know could help you to find Halsey," she said -stubbornly. "I know absolutely as little of his disappearance as -you do, and I can only say this: I do not trust Doctor Walker. I -think he hated Halsey, and he would get rid of him if he could." - -"Perhaps you are right. In fact, I had some such theory myself. -But Doctor Walker went out late last night to a serious case in -Summitville, and is still there. Burns traced him there. We -have made guarded inquiry at the Greenwood Club, and through the -village. There is absolutely nothing to go on but this. On the -embankment above the railroad, at the point where we found the -machine, is a small house. An old woman and a daughter, who is -very lame, live there. They say that they distinctly heard the -shock when the Dragon Fly hit the car, and they went to the -bottom of their garden and looked over. The automobile was -there; they could see the lights, and they thought someone had -been injured. It was very dark, but they could make out two -figures, standing together. The women were curious, and, -leaving the fence, they went back and by a roundabout path down -to the road. When they got there the car was still standing, the -headlight broken and the bonnet crushed, but there was no one to -be seen." - -The detective went away immediately, and to Gertrude and me was -left the woman's part, to watch and wait. By luncheon nothing -had been found, and I was frantic. I went up-stairs to Halsey's -room finally, from sheer inability to sit across from Gertrude -any longer, and meet her terror-filled eyes. - -Liddy was in my dressing-room, suspiciously red-eyed, and trying -to put a right sleeve in a left armhole of a new waist for me. I -was too much shaken to scold. - -"What name did that woman in the kitchen give?" she demanded, -viciously ripping out the offending sleeve. - -"Bliss. Mattie Bliss," I replied. - -"Bliss. M. B. Well, that's not what she has on he suitcase. It -is marked N. F. C." - -The new cook and her initials troubled me not at all. I put on -my bonnet and sent for what the Casanova liveryman called a -"stylish turnout." Having once made up my mind to a course -of action, I am not one to turn back. Warner drove me; he was -plainly disgusted, and he steered the livery horse as he would -the Dragon Fly, feeling uneasily with his left foot for the -clutch, and working his right elbow at an imaginary horn every -time a dog got in the way. - -Warner had something on his mind, and after we had turned into -the road, he voiced it. - -"Miss Innes," he said. "I overheard a part of a conversation -yesterday that I didn't understand. It wasn't my business to -understand it, for that matter. But I've been thinking all day -that I'd better tell you. Yesterday afternoon, while you and -Miss Gertrude were out driving, I had got the car in some sort of -shape again after the fire, and I went to the library to call Mr. -Innes to see it. I went into the living-room, where Miss Liddy -said he was, and half-way across to the library I heard him -talking to some one. He seemed to be walking up and down, and he -was in a rage, I can tell you." - -"What did he say?" - -"The first thing I heard was--excuse me, Miss Innes, but it's -what he said, `The damned rascal,' he said, `I'll see him in'-- -well, in hell was what he said, `in hell first.' Then -somebody else spoke up; it was a woman. She said, `I warned -them, but they thought I would be afraid.'" - -"A woman! Did you wait to see who it was?" - -"I wasn't spying, Miss Innes," Warner said with dignity. "But -the next thing caught my attention. She said, `I knew there was -something wrong from the start. A man isn't well one day, and -dead the next, without some reason.' I thought she was speaking -of Thomas." - -"And you don't know who it was!" I exclaimed. "Warner, you had -the key to this whole occurrence in your hands, and did not use -it!" - -However, there was nothing to be done. I resolved to make -inquiry when I got home, and in the meantime, my present errand -absorbed me. This was nothing less than to see Louise Armstrong, -and to attempt to drag from her what she knew, or suspected, of -Halsey's disappearance. But here, as in every direction I -turned, I was baffled. - -A neat maid answered the bell, but she stood squarely in the -doorway, and it was impossible to preserve one's dignity and pass -her. - -"Miss Armstrong is very ill, and unable to see any one," she -said. I did not believe her. - -"And Mrs. Armstrong--is she also ill?" - -"She is with Miss Louise and can not be disturbed." - -"Tell her it is Miss Innes, and that it is a matter of the -greatest importance." - -"It would be of no use, Miss Innes. My orders are positive." - -At that moment a heavy step sounded on the stairs. Past the -maid's white-strapped shoulder I could see a familiar thatch of -gray hair, and in a moment I was face to face with Doctor -Stewart. He was very grave, and his customary geniality was -tinged with restraint. - -"You are the very woman I want to see," he said promptly. "Send -away your trap, and let me drive you home. What is this about -your nephew?" - -"He has disappeared, doctor. Not only that, but there is every -evidence that he has been either abducted, or--" I could not -finish. The doctor helped me into his capacious buggy in -silence. Until we had got a little distance he did not speak; -then he turned and looked at me. - -"Now tell me about it," he said. He heard me through without -speaking. - -"And you think Louise knows something?" he said when I had -finished. "I don't--in fact, I am sure of it. The best evidence -of it is this: she asked me if he had been heard from, or if -anything had been learned. She won't allow Walker in the room, -and she made me promise to see you and tell you this: don't give -up the search for him. Find him, and find him soon. He is -living." - -"Well," I said, "if she knows that, she knows more. She is a -very cruel and ungrateful girl." - -"She is a very sick girl," he said gravely. "Neither you nor I -can judge her until we know everything. Both she and her mother -are ghosts of their former selves. Under all this, these two -sudden deaths, this bank robbery, the invasions at Sunnyside and -Halsey's disappearance, there is some mystery that, mark my -words, will come out some day. And when it does, we shall find -Louise Armstrong a victim." - -I had not noticed where we were going, but now I saw we were -beside the railroad, and from a knot of men standing beside the -track I divined that it was here the car had been found. The -siding, however, was empty. Except a few bits of splintered -wood on the ground, there was no sign of the accident. - -"Where is the freight car that was rammed?" the doctor asked a -bystander. - -"It was taken away at daylight, when the train was moved." - -There was nothing to be gained. He pointed out the house on the -embankment where the old lady and her daughter had heard the -crash and seen two figures beside the car. Then we drove slowly -home. I had the doctor put me down at the gate, and I walked to -the house--past the lodge where we had found Louise, and, later, -poor Thomas; up the drive where I had seen a man watching the -lodge and where, later, Rosie had been frightened; past the east -entrance, where so short a time before the most obstinate effort -had been made to enter the house, and where, that night two weeks -ago, Liddy and I had seen the strange woman. Not far from the -west wing lay the blackened ruins of the stables. I felt like a -ruin myself, as I paused on the broad veranda before I entered -the house. - -Two private detectives had arrived in my absence, and it was a -relief to turn over to them the responsibility of the house and -grounds. Mr. Jamieson, they said, had arranged for more to -assist in the search for the missing man, and at that time the -country was being scoured in all directions. - -The household staff was again depleted that afternoon. Liddy was -waiting to tell me that the new cook had gone, bag and baggage, -without waiting to be paid. No one had admitted the visitor whom -Warner had heard in the library, unless, possibly, the missing -cook. Again I was working in a circle. - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -WHO IS NINA CARRINGTON? - -The four days, from Saturday to the following Tuesday, we lived, -or existed, in a state of the most dreadful suspense. We ate -only when Liddy brought in a tray, and then very little. The -papers, of course, had got hold of the story, and we were -besieged by newspaper men. From all over the country false clues -came pouring in and raised hopes that crumbled again to nothing. -Every morgue within a hundred miles, every hospital, had been -visited, without result. - -Mr. Jamieson, personally, took charge of the organized search, -and every evening, no matter where he happened to be, he called -us by long distance telephone. It was the same formula. -"Nothing to-day. A new clue to work on. Better luck to-morrow." - -And heartsick we would put up the receiver and sit down again to -our vigil. - -The inaction was deadly. Liddy cried all day, and, because she -knew I objected to tears, sniffled audibly around the corner. - -"For Heaven's sake, smile!" I snapped at her. And her ghastly -attempt at a grin, with her swollen nose and red eyes, made me -hysterical. I laughed and cried together, and pretty soon, like -the two old fools we were, we were sitting together weeping into -the same handkerchief. - -Things were happening, of course, all the time, but they made -little or no impression. The Charity Hospital called up Doctor -Stewart and reported that Mrs. Watson was in a critical -condition. I understood also that legal steps were being taken -to terminate my lease at Sunnyside. Louise was out of danger, -but very ill, and a trained nurse guarded her like a gorgon. -There was a rumor in the village, brought up by Liddy from the -butcher's, that a wedding had already taken place between Louise -and Doctor Walkers and this roused me for the first time to -action. - -On Tuesday, then, I sent for the car, and prepared to go out. As -I waited at the porte-cochere I saw the under-gardener, an -inoffensive, grayish-haired man, trimming borders near the house. - -The day detective was watching him, sitting on the carriage -block. When he saw me, he got up. - -"Miss Innes," he said, taking of his hat, "do you know where -Alex, the gardener, is?" - -"Why, no. Isn't he here?" I asked. - -"He has been gone since yesterday afternoon. Have you employed -him long?" - -"Only a couple of weeks." - -"Is he efficient? A capable man?" - -"I hardly know," I said vaguely. "The place looks all right, and -I know very little about such things. I know much more about -boxes of roses than bushes of them." - -"This man," pointing to the assistant, "says Alex isn't a -gardener. That he doesn't know anything about plants." - -"That's very strange," I said, thinking hard. "Why, he came to -me from the Brays, who are in Europe." - -"Exactly." The detective smiled. "Every man who cuts grass -isn't a gardener, Miss Innes, and just now it is our policy to -believe every person around here a rascal until he proves to be -the other thing." - -Warner came up with the car then, and the conversation -stopped. As he helped me in, however, the detective said -something further. - -"Not a word or sign to Alex, if he comes back," he said -cautiously. - -I went first to Doctor Walker's. I was tired of beating about -the bush, and I felt that the key to Halsey's disappearance was -here at Casanova, in spite of Mr. Jamieson's theories. - -The doctor was in. He came at once to the door of his -consulting-room, and there was no mask of cordiality in his -manner. - -"Please come in," he said curtly. - -"I shall stay here, I think, doctor." I did not like his face or -his manner; there was a subtle change in both. He had thrown of -the air of friendliness, and I thought, too, that he looked -anxious and haggard. - -"Doctor Walker," I said, "I have come to you to ask some -questions. I hope you will answer them. As you know, my nephew -has not yet been found." - -"So I understand," stiffly. - -"I believe, if you would, you could help us, and that leads to -one of my questions. Will you tell me what was the nature of the -conversation you held with him the night he was attacked and -carried off?" - -"Attacked! Carried off!" he said, with pretended surprise. -"Really, Miss Innes, don't you think you exaggerate? I -understand it is not the first time Mr. Innes has--disappeared." - -"You are quibbling, doctor. This is a matter of life and death. -Will you answer my question?" - -"Certainly. He said his nerves were bad, and I gave him a -prescription for them. I am violating professional ethics when I -tell you even as much as that." - -I could not tell him he lied. I think I looked it. But I -hazarded a random shot. - -"I thought perhaps," I said, watching him narrowly, "that it -might be about--Nina Carrington." - -For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. He grew livid, -and a small crooked blood-vessel in his temple swelled and -throbbed curiously. Then he forced a short laugh. - -"Who is Nina Carrington?" he asked. - -"I am about to discover that," I replied, and he was quiet at -once. It was not difficult to divine that he feared Nina -Carrington a good deal more than he did the devil. Our leave- -taking was brief; in fact, we merely stared at each other over -the waiting-room table, with its litter of year-old -magazines. Then I turned and went out. - -"To Richfield," I told Warner, and on the way I thought, and -thought hard. - -"Nina Carrington, Nina Carrington," the roar and rush of the -wheels seemed to sing the words. "Nina Carrington, N. C." And I -then knew, knew as surely as if I had seen the whole thing. -There had been an N. C. on the suit-case belonging to the woman -with the pitted face. How simple it all seemed. Mattie Bliss -had been Nina Carrington. It was she Warner had heard in the -library. It was something she had told Halsey that had taken him -frantically to Doctor Walker's office, and from there perhaps to -his death. If we could find the woman, we might find what had -become of Halsey. - -We were almost at Richfield now, so I kept on. My mind was not -on my errand there now. It was back with Halsey on that -memorable night. What was it he had said to Louise, that had -sent her up to Sunnyside, half wild with fear for him? I made up -my mind, as the car drew up before the Tate cottage, that I would -see Louise if I had to break into the house at night. - -Almost exactly the same scene as before greeted my eyes at -the cottage. Mrs. Tate, the baby-carriage in the path, the -children at the swing--all were the same. - -She came forward to meet me, and I noticed that some of the -anxious lines had gone out of her face. She looked young, almost -pretty. - -"I am glad you have come back," she said. "I think I will have -to be honest and give you back your money." - -"Why?" I asked. "Has the mother come?" - -"No, but some one came and paid the boy's board for a month. She -talked to him for a long time, but when I asked him afterward he -didn't know her name." - -"A young woman?" - -"Not very young. About forty, I suppose. She was small and -fair-haired, just a little bit gray, and very sad. She was in -deep mourning, and, I think, when she came, she expected to go at -once. But the child, Lucien, interested her. She talked to him -for a long time, and, indeed, she looked much happier when she -left." - -"You are sure this was not the real mother?" - -"O mercy, no! Why, she didn't know which of the three was -Lucien. I thought perhaps she was a friend of yours, but, of -course, I didn't ask." - -"She was not--pock-marked?" I asked at a venture. "No, indeed. -A skin like a baby's. But perhaps you will know the initials. -She gave Lucien a handkerchief and forgot it. It was very fine, -black-bordered, and it had three hand-worked letters in the -corner--F. B. A." - -"No," I said with truth enough, "she is not a friend of mine." -F. B. A. was Fanny Armstrong, without a chance of doubt! - -With another warning to Mrs. Tate as to silence, we started back -to Sunnyside. So Fanny Armstrong knew of Lucien Wallace, and was -sufficiently interested to visit him and pay for his support. -Who was the child's mother and where was she? Who was Nina -Carrington? Did either of them know where Halsey was or what had -happened to him? - -On the way home we passed the little cemetery where Thomas had -been laid to rest. I wondered if Thomas could have helped us to -find Halsey, had he lived. Farther along was the more imposing -burial-ground, where Arnold Armstrong and his father lay in the -shadow of a tall granite shaft. Of the three, I think Thomas was -the only one sincerely mourned. - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -A TRAMP AND THE TOOTHACHE - -The bitterness toward the dead president of the Traders' Bank -seemed to grow with time. Never popular, his memory was -execrated by people who had lost nothing, but who were filled -with disgust by constantly hearing new stories of the man's -grasping avarice. The Traders' had been a favorite bank for -small tradespeople, and in its savings department it had -solicited the smallest deposits. People who had thought to be -self-supporting to the last found themselves confronting the -poorhouse, their two or three hundred dollar savings wiped away. -All bank failures have this element, however, and the directors -were trying to promise twenty per cent. on deposits. - -But, like everything else those days, the bank failure was almost -forgotten by Gertrude and myself. We did not mention Jack -Bailey: I had found nothing to change my impression of his guilt, -and Gertrude knew how I felt. As for the murder of the -bank president's son, I was of two minds. One day I thought -Gertrude knew or at least suspected that Jack had done it; the -next I feared that it had been Gertrude herself, that night alone -on the circular staircase. And then the mother of Lucien Wallace -would obtrude herself, and an almost equally good case might be -made against her. There were times, of course, when I was -disposed to throw all those suspicions aside, and fix definitely -on the unknown, whoever that might be. - -I had my greatest disappointment when it came to tracing Nina -Carrington. The woman had gone without leaving a trace. Marked -as she was, it should have been easy to follow her, but she was -not to be found. A description to one of the detectives, on my -arrival at home, had started the ball rolling. But by night she -had not been found. I told Gertrude, then, about the telegram to -Louise when she had been ill before; about my visit to Doctor -Walker, and my suspicions that Mattie Bliss and Nina Carrington -were the same. She thought, as I did, that there was little -doubt of it. - -I said nothing to her, however, of the detective's suspicions -about Alex. Little things that I had not noticed at the time now -came back to me. I had an uncomfortable feeling that -perhaps Alex was a spy, and that by taking him into the house I -had played into the enemy's hand. But at eight o'clock that -night Alex himself appeared, and with him a strange and repulsive -individual. They made a queer pair, for Alex was almost as -disreputable as the tramp, and he had a badly swollen eye. - -Gertrude had been sitting listlessly waiting for the evening -message from Mr. Jamieson, but when the singular pair came in, as -they did, without ceremony, she jumped up and stood staring. -Winters, the detective who watched the house at night, followed -them, and kept his eyes sharply on Alex's prisoner. For that was -the situation as it developed. - -He was a tall lanky individual, ragged and dirty, and just now he -looked both terrified and embarrassed. Alex was too much -engrossed to be either, and to this day I don't think I ever -asked him why he went off without permission the day before. - -"Miss Innes," Alex began abruptly, "this man can tell us -something very important about the disappearance of Mr. Innes. I -found him trying to sell this watch." - -He took a watch from his pocket and put it on the table. It -was Halsey's watch. I had given it to him on his twenty-first -birthday: I was dumb with apprehension. - -"He says he had a pair of cuff-links also, but he sold them--" - -"Fer a dollar'n half," put in the disreputable individual -hoarsely, with an eye on the detective. - -"He is not--dead?" I implored. The tramp cleared his throat. - -"No'm," he said huskily. "He was used up pretty bad, but he -weren't dead. He was comin' to hisself when I"--he stopped and -looked at the detective. "I didn't steal it, Mr. Winters," he -whined. "I found it in the road, honest to God, I did." - -Mr. Winters paid no attention to him. He was watching Alex. - -"I'd better tell what he told me," Alex broke in. "It will be -quicker. When Jamieson--when Mr. Jamieson calls up we can start -him right. Mr. Winters, I found this man trying to sell that -watch on Fifth Street. He offered it to me for three dollars." - -"How did you know the watch?" Winters snapped at him. - -"I had seen it before, many times. I used it at night when I was -watching at the foot of the staircase." The detective was -satisfied. "When he offered the watch to me, I knew it, and I -pretended I was going to buy it. We went into an alley and I got -the watch." The tramp shivered. It was plain how Alex had -secured the watch. "Then--I got the story from this fellow. He -claims to have seen the whole affair. He says he was in an empty -car--in the car the automobile struck." - -The tramp broke in here, and told his story, with frequent -interpretations by Alex and Mr. Winters. He used a strange -medley, in which familiar words took unfamiliar meanings, but it -was gradually made clear to us. - -On the night in question the tramp had been "pounding his ear"-- -this stuck to me as being graphic--in an empty box-car along the -siding at Casanova. The train was going west, and due to leave -at dawn. The tramp and the "brakey" were friendly, and things -going well. About ten o'clock, perhaps earlier, a terrific crash -against the side of the car roused him. He tried to open the -door, but could not move it. He got out of the other side, -and just as he did so, he heard some one groan. - -The habits of a lifetime made him cautious. He slipped on to the -bumper of a car and peered through. An automobile had struck the -car, and stood there on two wheels. The tail lights were -burning, but the headlights were out. Two men were stooping over -some one who lay on the ground. Then the taller of the two -started on a dog-trot along the train looking for an empty. He -found one four cars away and ran back again. The two lifted the -unconscious man into the empty box-car, and, getting in -themselves, stayed for three or four minutes. When they came -out, after closing the sliding door, they cut up over the -railroad embankment toward the town. One, the short one, seemed -to limp. - -The tramp was wary. He waited for ten minutes or so. Some women -came down a path to the road and inspected the automobile. When -they had gone, he crawled into the box-car and closed the door -again. Then he lighted a match. The figure of a man, -unconscious, gagged, and with his hands tied, lay far at the end. - -The tramp lost no time; he went through his pockets, found a -little money and the cuff-links, and took them. Then he -loosened the gag--it had been cruelly tight--and went his way, -again closing the door of the box-car. Outside on the road he -found the watch. He got on the fast freight east, some time -after, and rode into the city. He had sold the cuff-links, but -on offering the watch to Alex he had been "copped." - -The story, with its cold recital of villainy, was done. I hardly -knew if I were more anxious, or less. That it was Halsey, there -could be no doubt. How badly he was hurt, how far he had been -carried, were the questions that demanded immediate answer. But -it was the first real information we had had; my boy had not been -murdered outright. But instead of vague terrors there was now -the real fear that he might be lying in some strange hospital -receiving the casual attention commonly given to the charity -cases. Even this, had we known it, would have been paradise to -the terrible truth. I wake yet and feel myself cold and -trembling with the horror of Halsey's situation for three days -after his disappearance. - -Mr. Winters and Alex disposed of the tramp with a warning. It -was evident he had told us all he knew. We had occasion, within -a day or two, to be doubly thankful that we had given him -his freedom. When Mr. Jamieson telephoned that night we had news -for him; he told me what I had not realized before--that it would -not be possible to find Halsey at once, even with this clue. The -cars by this time, three days, might be scattered over the Union. - -But he said to keep on hoping, that it was the best news we had -had. And in the meantime, consumed with anxiety as we were, -things were happening at the house in rapid succession. - -We had one peaceful day--then Liddy took sick in the night. I -went in when I heard her groaning, and found her with a hot-water -bottle to her face, and her right cheek swollen until it was -glassy. - -"Toothache?" I asked, not too gently. "You deserve it. A woman -of your age, who would rather go around with an exposed nerve in -her head than have the tooth pulled! It would be over in a -moment." - -"So would hanging," Liddy protested, from behind the hot-water -bottle. - -I was hunting around for cotton and laudanum. - -"You have a tooth just like it yourself, Miss Rachel," she -whimpered. "And I'm sure Doctor Boyle's been trying to take it -out for years." - -There was no laudanum, and Liddy made a terrible fuss when I -proposed carbolic acid, just because I had put too much on the -cotton once and burned her mouth. I'm sure it never did her any -permanent harm; indeed, the doctor said afterward that living on -liquid diet had been a splendid rest for her stomach. But she -would have none of the acid, and she kept me awake groaning, so -at last I got up and went to Gertrude's door. To my surprise, it -was locked. - -I went around by the hall and into her bedroom that way. The bed -was turned down, and her dressing-gown and night-dress lay ready -in the little room next, but Gertrude was not there. She had not -undressed. - -I don't know what terrible thoughts came to me in the minute I -stood there. Through the door I could hear Liddy grumbling, with -a squeal now and then when the pain stabbed harder. Then, -automatically, I got the laudanum and went back to her. - -It was fully a half-hour before Liddy's groans subsided. At -intervals I went to the door into the hall and looked out, but I -saw and heard nothing suspicious. Finally, when Liddy had -dropped into a doze, I even ventured as far as the head of the -circular staircase, but there floated up to me only the even -breathing of Winters, the night detective, sleeping just -inside the entry. And then, far off, I heard the rapping noise -that had lured Louise down the staircase that other night, two -weeks before. It was over my head, and very faint--three or four -short muffled taps, a pause, and then again, stealthily repeated. - -The sound of Mr. Winters' breathing was comforting; with the -thought that there was help within call, something kept me from -waking him. I did not move for a moment; ridiculous things Liddy -had said about a ghost--I am not at all superstitious, except, -perhaps, in the middle of the night, with everything dark--things -like that came back to me. Almost beside me was the clothes -chute. I could feel it, but I could see nothing. As I stood, -listening intently, I heard a sound near me. It was vague, -indefinite. Then it ceased; there was an uneasy movement and a -grunt from the foot of the circular staircase, and silence again. - -I stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. - -Then I knew I had been right. Some one was stealthily-passing -the head of the staircase and coming toward me in the dark. I -leaned against the wall for support--my knees were giving way. -The steps were close now, and suddenly I thought of -Gertrude. Of course it was Gertrude. I put out one hand in -front of me, but I touched nothing. My voice almost refused me, -but I managed to gasp out, "Gertrude!" - -"Good Lord!" a man's voice exclaimed, just beside me. And then I -collapsed. I felt myself going, felt some one catch me, a -horrible nausea--that was all I remembered. - -When I came to it was dawn. I was lying on the bed in Louise's -room, with the cherub on the ceiling staring down at me, and -there was a blanket from my own bed thrown over me. I felt weak -and dizzy, but I managed to get up and totter to the door. At -the foot of the circular staircase Mr. Winters was still asleep. -Hardly able to stand, I crept back to my room. The door into -Gertrude's room was no longer locked: she was sleeping like a -tired child. And in my dressing-room Liddy hugged a cold hot- -water bottle, and mumbled in her sleep. - -"There's some things you can't hold with hand cuffs," she was -muttering thickly. - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -A SCRAP OF PAPER - -For the first time in twenty years, I kept my bed that day. -Liddy was alarmed to the point of hysteria, and sent for Doctor -Stewart just after breakfast. Gertrude spent the morning with -me, reading something--I forget what. I was too busy with my -thoughts to listen. I had said nothing to the two detectives. -If Mr. Jamieson had been there, I should have told him -everything, but I could not go to these strange men and tell them -my niece had been missing in the middle of the night; that she -had not gone to bed at all; that while I was searching for her -through the house, I had met a stranger who, when I fainted, had -carried me into a room and left me there, to get better or not, -as it might happen. - -The whole situation was terrible: had the issues been less vital, -it would have been absurd. Here we were, guarded day and night -by private detectives, with an extra man to watch the -grounds, and yet we might as well have lived in a Japanese paper -house, for all the protection we had. - -And there was something else: the man I had met in the darkness -had been even more startled than I, and about his voice, when he -muttered his muffled exclamation, there was something vaguely -familiar. All that morning, while Gertrude read aloud, and Liddy -watched for the doctor, I was puzzling over that voice, without -result. - -And there were other things, too. I wondered what Gertrude's -absence from her room had to do with it all, or if it had any -connection. I tried to think that she had heard the rapping -noises before I did and gone to investigate, but I'm afraid I was -a moral coward that day. I could not ask her. - -Perhaps the diversion was good for me. It took my mind from -Halsey, and the story we had heard the night before. The day, -however, was a long vigil, with every ring of the telephone full -of possibilities. Doctor Walker came up, some time just after -luncheon, and asked for me. - -"Go down and see him," I instructed Gertrude. "Tell him I am -out--for mercy's sake don't say I'm sick. Find out what he -wants, and from this time on, instruct the servants that he is -not to be admitted. I loathe that man." - -Gertrude came back very soon, her face rather flushed. - -"He came to ask us to get out," she said, picking up her book -with a jerk. "He says Louise Armstrong wants to come here, now -that she is recovering." - -"And what did you say?" - -"I said we were very sorry we could not leave, but we would be -delighted to have Louise come up here with us. He looked daggers -at me. And he wanted to know if we would recommend Eliza as a -cook. He has brought a patient, a man, out from town, and is -increasing his establishment--that's the way he put it." - -"I wish him joy of Eliza," I said tartly. "Did he ask for -Halsey?" - -"Yes. I told him that we were on the track last night, and that -it was only a question of time. He said he was glad, although he -didn't appear to be, but he said not to be too sanguine." - -"Do you know what I believe?" I asked. "I believe, as firmly as -I believe anything, that Doctor Walker knows something about -Halsey, and that he could put his finger on him, if he wanted -to." - -There were several things that day that bewildered me. About -three o'clock Mr. Jamieson telephoned from the Casanova station -and Warner went down to meet him. I got up and dressed hastily, -and the detective was shown up to my sitting-room. - -"No news?" I asked, as he entered. He tried to look encouraging, -without success. I noticed that he looked tired and dusty, and, -although he was ordinarily impeccable in his appearance, it was -clear that he was at least two days from a razor. - -"It won't be long now, Miss Innes," he said. "I have come out -here on a peculiar errand, which I will tell you about later. -First, I want to ask some questions. Did any one come out here -yesterday to repair the telephone, and examine the wires on the -roof?" - -"Yes," I said promptly; "but it was not the telephone. He said -the wiring might have caused the fire at the stable. I went up -with him myself, but he only looked around." - -Mr. Jamieson smiled. - -"Good for you!" he applauded. "Don't allow any one in the house -that you don't trust, and don't trust anybody. All are not -electricians who wear rubber gloves." - -He refused to explain further, but he got a slip of paper out of -his pocketbook and opened it carefully. - -"Listen," he said. "You heard this before and scoffed. In the -light of recent developments I want you to read it again. You -are a clever woman, Miss Innes. Just as surely as I sit here, -there is something in this house that is wanted very anxiously by -a number of people. The lines are closing up, Miss Innes." - -The paper was the one he had found among Arnold Armstrong's -effects, and I read it again: - - -"----by altering the plans for----rooms, may be possible. The -best way, in my opinion, would be to----the plan for----in one of -the----rooms----chimney." - - -"I think I understand," I said slowly. "Some one is searching -for the secret room, and the invaders--" - -"And the holes in the plaster--" - -"Have been in the progress of his--" - -"Or her--investigations." - -"Her?" I asked. - -"Miss Innes," the detective said, getting up, "I believe that -somewhere in the walls of this house is hidden some of the money, -at least, from the Traders' Bank. I believe, just as -surely, that young Walker brought home from California the -knowledge of something of the sort and, failing in his effort to -reinstall Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter here, he, or a -confederate, has tried to break into the house. On two occasions -I think he succeeded." - -"On three, at least," I corrected. And then I told him about the -night before. "I have been thinking hard," I concluded, "and I -do not believe the man at the head of the circular staircase was -Doctor Walker. I don't think he could have got in, and the voice -was not his." - -Mr. Jamieson got up and paced the floor, his hands behind him. - -"There is something else that puzzles me," he said, stepping -before me. "Who and what is the woman Nina Carrington? If it -was she who came here as Mattie Bliss, what did she tell Halsey -that sent him racing to Doctor Walker's, and then to Miss -Armstrong? If we could find that woman we would have the whole -thing." - -"Mr. Jamieson, did you ever think that Paul Armstrong might not -have died a natural death?" - -"That is the thing we are going to try to find out," he -replied. And then Gertrude came in, announcing a man below to -see Mr. Jamieson. - -"I want you present at this interview, Miss Innes," he said. -"May Riggs come up? He has left Doctor Walker and he has -something he wants to tell us." - -Riggs came into the room diffidently, but Mr. Jamieson put him at -his ease. He kept a careful eye on me, however, and slid into a -chair by the door when he was asked to sit down. - -"Now, Riggs," began Mr. Jamieson kindly. "You are to say what -you have to say before this lady." - -"You promised you'd keep it quiet, Mr. Jamieson." Riggs plainly -did not trust me. There was nothing friendly in the glance he -turned on me. - -"Yes, yes. You will be protected. But, first of all, did you -bring what you promised?" - -Riggs produced a roll of papers from under his coat, and handed -them over. Mr. Jamieson examined them with lively satisfaction, -and passed them to me. "The blue-prints of Sunnyside," he said. -"What did I tell you? Now, Riggs, we are ready." - -"I'd never have come to you, Mr. Jamieson," he began, "if it -hadn't been for Miss Armstrong. When Mr. Innes was spirited -away, like, and Miss Louise got sick because of it, I -thought things had gone far enough. I'd done some things for the -doctor before that wouldn't just bear looking into, but I turned -a bit squeamish." - -"Did you help with that?" I asked, leaning forward. - -"No, ma'm. I didn't even know of it until the next day, when it -came out in the Casanova Weekly Ledger. But I know who did it, -all right. I'd better start at the beginning. - -"When Doctor Walker went away to California with the Armstrong -family, there was talk in the town that when he came back he -would be married to Miss Armstrong, and we all expected it. -First thing I knew, I got a letter from him, in the west. He -seemed to be excited, and he said Miss Armstrong had taken a -sudden notion to go home and he sent me some money. I was to -watch for her, to see if she went to Sunnyside, and wherever she -was, not to lose sight of her until he got home. I traced her to -the lodge, and I guess I scared you on the drive one night, Miss -Innes." - -"And Rosie!" I ejaculated. - -Riggs grinned sheepishly. - -"I only wanted to make sure Miss Louise was there. Rosie -started to run, and I tried to stop her and tell her some sort of -a story to account for my being there. But she wouldn't wait." - -"And the broken china--in the basket?" - -"Well, broken china's death to rubber tires," he said. "I hadn't -any complaint against you people here, and the Dragon Fly was a -good car." - -So Rosie's highwayman was explained. - -"Well, I telegraphed the doctor where Miss Louise was and I kept -an eye on her. Just a day or so before they came home with the -body, I got another letter, telling me to watch for a woman who -had been pitted with smallpox. Her name was Carrington, and the -doctor made things pretty strong. If I found any such woman -loafing around, I was not to lose sight of her for a minute until -the doctor got back. - -"Well, I would have had my hands full, but the other woman didn't -show up for a good while, and when she did the doctor was home." - -"Riggs," I asked suddenly, "did you get into this house a day or -two after I took it, at night?" - -"I did not, Miss Innes. I have never been in the house before. -Well, the Carrington woman didn't show up until the night Mr. -Halsey disappeared. She came to the office late, and the -doctor was out. She waited around, walking the floor and working -herself into a passion. When the doctor didn't come back, she -was in an awful way. She wanted me to hunt him, and when he -didn't appear, she called him names; said he couldn't fool her. -There was murder being done, and she would see him swing for it. - -"She struck me as being an ugly customer, and when she left, -about eleven o'clock, and went across to the Armstrong place, I -was not far behind her. She walked all around the house first, -looking up at the windows. Then she rang the bell, and the -minute the door was opened she was through it, and into the -hall." - -"How long did she stay?" - -"That's the queer part of it," Riggs said eagerly. "She didn't -come out that night at all. I went to bed at daylight, and that -was the last I heard of her until the next day, when I saw her on -a truck at the station, covered with a sheet. She'd been struck -by the express and you would hardly have known her--dead, of -course. I think she stayed all night in the Armstrong house, and -the agent said she was crossing the track to take the up-train to -town when the express struck her." - -"Another circle!" I exclaimed. "Then we are just where we -started." - -"Not so bad as that, Miss Innes," Riggs said eagerly. "Nina -Carrington came from the town in California where Mr. Armstrong -died. Why was the doctor so afraid of her? The Carrington woman -knew something. I lived with Doctor Walker seven years, and I -know him well. There are few things he is afraid of. I think he -killed Mr. Armstrong out in the west somewhere, that's what I -think. What else he did I don't know--but he dismissed me and -pretty nearly throttled me--for telling Mr. Jamieson here about -Mr. Innes' having been at his office the night he disappeared, -and about my hearing them quarreling." - -"What was it Warner overheard the woman say to Mr. Innes, in the -library?" the detective asked me. - -"She said `I knew there was something wrong from the start. A -man isn't well one day and dead the next without some reason.'" - -How perfectly it all seemed to fit! - - -CHAPTER XXX - -WHEN CHURCHYARDS YAWN - -It was on Wednesday Riggs told us the story of his connection -with some incidents that had been previously unexplained. Halsey -had been gone since the Friday night before, and with the passage -of each day I felt that his chances were lessening. I knew well -enough that he might be carried thousands of miles in the box- -car, locked in, perhaps, without water or food. I had read of -cases where bodies had been found locked in cars on isolated -sidings in the west, and my spirits went down with every hour. - -His recovery was destined to be almost as sudden as his -disappearance, and was due directly to the tramp Alex had brought -to Sunnyside. It seems the man was grateful for his release, and -when he learned some thing of Halsey's whereabouts from another -member of his fraternity--for it is a fraternity--he was prompt -in letting us know. - -On Wednesday evening Mr. Jamieson, who had been down at the -Armstrong house trying to see Louise--and failing--was met near -the gate at Sunnyside by an individual precisely as repulsive and -unkempt as the one Alex had captured. The man knew the -detective, and he gave him a piece of dirty paper, on which was -scrawled the words--"He's at City Hospital, Johnsville." The -tramp who brought the paper pretended to know nothing, except -this: the paper had been passed along from a "hobo" in -Johnsville, who seemed to know the information would be valuable -to us. - -Again the long distance telephone came into requisition. Mr. -Jamieson called the hospital, while we crowded around him. And -when there was no longer any doubt that it was Halsey, and that -he would probably recover, we all laughed and cried together. I -am sure I kissed Liddy, and I have had terrible moments since -when I seem to remember kissing Mr. Jamieson, too, in the -excitement. - -Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way to -Johnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by -Rosie. The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy, -with the under-gardener's wife coming every day to help out. -Fortunately, Warner and the detectives were keeping bachelor hall -in the lodge. Out of deference to Liddy they washed their dishes -once a day, and they concocted queer messes, according to their -several abilities. They had one triumph that they ate regularly -for breakfast, and that clung to their clothes and their hair the -rest of the day. It was bacon, hardtack and onions, fried -together. They were almost pathetically grateful, however, I -noticed, for an occasional broiled tenderloin. - -It was not until Gertrude and Rosie had gone and Sunnyside had -settled down for the night, with Winters at the foot of the -staircase, that Mr. Jamieson broached a subject he had evidently -planned before he came. - -"Miss Innes," he said, stopping me as I was about to go to my -room up-stairs, "how are your nerves tonight?" - -"I have none," I said happily. "With Halsey found, my troubles -have gone." - -"I mean," he persisted, "do you feel as though you could go -through with something rather unusual?" - -"The most unusual thing I can think of would be a peaceful -night. But if anything is going to occur, don't dare to let me -miss it." - -"Something is going to occur," he said. "And you're the only -woman I can think of that I can take along." He looked at his -watch. "Don't ask me any questions, Miss Innes. Put on heavy -shoes, and some old dark clothes, and make up your mind not to be -surprised at anything." - -Liddy was sleeping the sleep of the just when I went up-stairs, -and I hunted out my things cautiously. The detective was waiting -in the hall, and I was astonished to see Doctor Stewart with him. - -They were talking confidentially together, but when I came down -they ceased. There were a few preparations to be made: the locks -to be gone over, Winters to be instructed as to renewed -vigilance, and then, after extinguishing the hall light, we -crept, in the darkness, through the front door, and into the -night. - -I asked no questions. I felt that they were doing me honor in -making me one of the party, and I would show them I could be as -silent as they. We went across the fields, passing through the -woods that reached almost to the ruins of the stable, going over -stiles now and then, and sometimes stepping over low fences. -Once only somebody spoke, and then it was an emphatic bit of -profanity from Doctor Stewart when he ran into a wire fence. - -We were joined at the end of five minutes by another man, who -fell into step with the doctor silently. He carried something -over his shoulder which I could not make out. In this way we -walked for perhaps twenty minutes. I had lost all sense of -direction: I merely stumbled along in silence, allowing Mr. -Jamieson to guide me this way or that as the path demanded. I -hardly know what I expected. Once, when through a miscalculation -I jumped a little short over a ditch and landed above my shoe- -tops in the water and ooze, I remember wondering if this were -really I, and if I had ever tasted life until that summer. I -walked along with the water sloshing in my boots, and I was -actually cheerful. I remember whispering to Mr. Jamieson that I -had never seen the stars so lovely, and that it was a mistake, -when the Lord had made the night so beautiful, to sleep through -it! - -The doctor was puffing somewhat when we finally came to a halt. -I confess that just at that minute even Sunnyside seemed a -cheerful spot. We had paused at the edge of a level cleared -place, bordered all around with primly trimmed evergreen -trees. Between them I caught a glimpse of starlight shining down -on rows of white headstones and an occasional more imposing -monument, or towering shaft. In spite of myself, I drew my -breath in sharply. We were on the edge of the Casanova -churchyard. - -I saw now both the man who had joined the party and the -implements he carried. It was Alex, armed with two long-handled -spades. After the first shock of surprise, I flatter myself I -was both cool and quiet. We went in single file between the rows -of headstones, and although, when I found myself last, I had an -instinctive desire to keep looking back over my shoulder, I found -that, the first uneasiness past, a cemetery at night is much the -same as any other country place, filled with vague shadows and -unexpected noises. Once, indeed--but Mr. Jamieson said it was an -owl, and I tried to believe him. - -In the shadow of the Armstrong granite shaft we stopped. I think -the doctor wanted to send me back. - -"It's no place for a woman," I heard him protesting angrily. But -the detective said something about witnesses, and the doctor only -came over and felt my pulse. - -"Anyhow, I don't believe you're any worse off here than you would -be in that nightmare of a house," he said finally, and put his -coat on the steps of the shaft for me to sit on. - -There is an air of finality about a grave: one watches the earth -thrown in, with the feeling that this is the end. Whatever has -gone before, whatever is to come in eternity, that particular -temple of the soul has been given back to the elements from which -it came. Thus, there is a sense of desecration, of a reversal of -the everlasting fitness of things, in resurrecting a body from -its mother clay. And yet that night, in the Casanova churchyard, -I sat quietly by, and watched Alex and Mr. Jamieson steaming over -their work, without a single qualm, except the fear of detection. - -The doctor kept a keen lookout, but no one appeared. Once in a -while he came over to me, and gave me a reassuring pat on the -shoulder. - -"I never expected to come to this," he said once. "There's one -thing sure--I'll not be suspected of complicity. A doctor is -generally supposed to be handier at burying folks than at digging -them up." - -The uncanny moment came when Alex and Jamieson tossed the spades -on the grass, and I confess I hid my face. There was a -period of stress, I think, while the heavy coffin was being -raised. I felt that my composure was going, and, for fear I -would shriek, I tried to think of something else--what time -Gertrude would reach Halsey--anything but the grisly reality that -lay just beyond me on the grass. - -And then I heard a low exclamation from the detective and I felt -the pressure of the doctor's fingers on my arm. - -"Now, Miss Innes," he said gently. "If you will come over--" - -I held on to him frantically, and somehow I got there and looked -down. The lid of the casket had been raised and a silver plate -on it proved we had made no mistake. But the face that showed in -the light of the lantern was a face I had never seen before. The -man who lay before us was not Paul Armstrong! - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -BETWEEN TWO FIREPLACES - -What with the excitement of the discovery, the walk home under -the stars in wet shoes and draggled skirts, and getting up-stairs -and undressed without rousing Liddy, I was completely used up. -What to do with my boots was the greatest puzzle of all, there -being no place in the house safe from Liddy, until I decided to -slip upstairs the next morning and drop them into the hole the -"ghost" had made in the trunk-room wall. - -I went asleep as soon as I reached this decision, and in my -dreams I lived over again the events of the night. Again I saw -the group around the silent figure on the grass, and again, as -had happened at the grave, I heard Alex's voice, tense and -triumphant: - -"Then we've got them," he said. Only, in my dreams, he said it -over and over until he seemed to shriek it in my ears. - -I wakened early, in spite of my fatigue, and lay there thinking. -Who was Alex? I no longer believed that he was a gardener. Who -was the man whose body we had resurrected? And where was Paul -Armstrong? Probably living safely in some extraditionless -country on the fortune he had stolen. Did Louise and her mother -know of the shameful and wicked deception? What had Thomas -known, and Mrs. Watson? Who was Nina Carrington? - -This last question, it seemed to me, was answered. In some way -the woman had learned of the substitution, and had tried to use -her knowledge for blackmail. Nina Carrington's own story died -with her, but, however it happened, it was clear that she had -carried her knowledge to Halsey the afternoon Gertrude and I were -looking for clues to the man I had shot on the east veranda. -Halsey had been half crazed by what he heard; it was evident that -Louise was marrying Doctor Walker to keep the shameful secret, -for her mother's sake. Halsey, always reckless, had gone at once -to Doctor Walker and denounced him. There had been a scene, and -he left on his way to the station to meet and notify Mr. Jamieson -of what he had learned. The doctor was active mentally and -physically. Accompanied perhaps by Riggs, who had shown himself -not overscrupulous until he quarreled with his employer, he had -gone across to the railroad embankment, and, by jumping in front -of the car, had caused Halsey to swerve. The rest of the story -we knew. - -That was my reconstructed theory of that afternoon and evening: -it was almost correct--not quite. - -There was a telegram that morning from Gertrude. - - -"Halsey conscious and improving. Probably home in day or so. - GERTRUDE." - - -With Halsey found and improving in health, and with at last -something to work on, I began that day, Thursday, with fresh -courage. As Mr. Jamieson had said, the lines were closing up. -That I was to be caught and almost finished in the closing was -happily unknown to us all. - -It was late when I got up. I lay in my bed, looking around the -four walls of the room, and trying to imagine behind what one of -them a secret chamber might lie. Certainly, in daylight, -Sunnyside deserved its name: never was a house more cheery and -open, less sinister in general appearance. There was not a -corner apparently that was not open and above-board, and -yet, somewhere behind its handsomely papered walls I believed -firmly that there lay a hidden room, with all the possibilities -it would involve. - -I made a mental note to have the house measured during the day, -to discover any discrepancy between the outer and inner walls, -and I tried to recall again the exact wording of the paper -Jamieson had found. - -The slip had said "chimney." It was the only clue, and a house -as large as Sunnyside was full of them. There was an open -fireplace in my dressing-room, but none in the bedroom, and as I -lay there, looking around, I thought of something that made me -sit up suddenly. The trunk-room, just over my head, had an open -fireplace and a brick chimney, and yet, there was nothing of the -kind in my room. I got out of bed and examined the opposite wall -closely. There was apparently no flue, and I knew there was none -in the hall just beneath. The house was heated by steam, as I -have said before. In the living-room was a huge open fireplace, -but it was on the other side. - -Why did the trunk-room have both a radiator and an open -fireplace? Architects were not usually erratic! It was not -fifteen minutes before I was up-stairs, armed with a tape-measure -in lieu of a foot-rule, eager to justify Mr. Jamieson's -opinion of my intelligence, and firmly resolved not to tell him -of my suspicion until I had more than theory to go on. The hole -in the trunk-room wall still yawned there, between the chimney -and the outer wall. I examined it again, with no new result. -The space between the brick wall and the plaster and lath one, -however, had a new significance. The hole showed only one side -of the chimney, and I determined to investigate what lay in the -space on the other side of the mantel. - -I worked feverishly. Liddy had gone to the village to market, it -being her firm belief that the store people sent short measure -unless she watched the scales, and that, since the failure of the -Traders' Bank, we must watch the corners; and I knew that what I -wanted to do must be done before she came back. I had no tools, -but after rummaging around I found a pair of garden scissors and -a hatchet, and thus armed, I set to work. The plaster came out -easily: the lathing was more obstinate. It gave under the blows, -only to spring back into place again, and the necessity for -caution made it doubly hard. - -I had a blister on my palm when at last the hatchet went through -and fell with what sounded like the report of a gun to my -overstrained nerves. I sat on a trunk, waiting to hear Liddy fly -up the stairs, with the household behind her, like the tail of a -comet. But nothing happened, and with a growing feeling of -uncanniness I set to work enlarging the opening. - -The result was absolutely nil. When I could hold a lighted -candle in the opening, I saw precisely what I had seen on the -other side of the chimney--a space between the true wall and the -false one, possibly seven feet long and about three feet wide. -It was in no sense of the word a secret chamber, and it was -evident it had not been disturbed since the house was built. It -was a supreme disappointment. - -It had been Mr. Jamieson's idea that the hidden room, if there -was one, would be found somewhere near the circular staircase. -In fact, I knew that he had once investigated the entire length -of the clothes chute, hanging to a rope, with this in view. I -was reluctantly about to concede that he had been right, when my -eyes fell on the mantel and fireplace. The latter had evidently -never been used: it was closed with a metal fire front, and only -when the front refused to move, and investigation showed that it -was not intended to be moved, did my spirits revive. - -I hurried into the next room. Yes, sure enough, there was a -similar mantel and fireplace there, similarly closed. In both -rooms the chimney flue extended well out from the wall. I -measured with the tape-line, my hands trembling so that I could -scarcely hold it. They extended two feet and a half into each -room, which, with the three feet of space between the two -partitions, made eight feet to be accounted for. Eight feet in -one direction and almost seven in the other--what a chimney it -was! - -But I had only located the hidden room. I was not in it, and no -amount of pressing on the carving of the wooden mantels, no -search of the floors for loose boards, none of the customary -methods availed at all. That there was a means of entrance, and -probably a simple one, I could be certain. But what? What would -I find if I did get in? Was the detective right, and were the -bonds and money from the Traders' Bank there? Or was our whole -theory wrong? Would not Paul Armstrong have taken his booty with -him? If he had not, and if Doctor Walker was in the secret, he -would have known how to enter the chimney room. Then--who had -dug the other hole in the false partition? - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -ANNE WATSON'S STORY - -Liddy discovered the fresh break in the trunk-room wall while we -were at luncheon, and ran shrieking down the stairs. She -maintained that, as she entered, unseen hands had been digging at -the plaster; that they had stopped when she went in, and she had -felt a gust of cold damp air. In support of her story she -carried in my wet and muddy boots, that I had unluckily forgotten -to hide, and held them out to the detective and myself. - -"What did I tell you?" she said dramatically. "Look at 'em. -They're yours, Miss Rachel--and covered with mud and soaked to -the tops. I tell you, you can scoff all you like; something has -been wearing your shoes. As sure as you sit there, there's the -smell of the graveyard on them. How do we know they weren't -tramping through the Casanova churchyard last night, and sitting -on the graves!" - -Mr. Jamieson almost choked to death. "I wouldn't be at -all surprised if they were doing that very thing, Liddy," he -said, when he got his breath. "They certainly look like it." - -I think the detective had a plan, on which he was working, and -which was meant to be a coup. But things went so fast there -was no time to carry it into effect. The first thing that -occurred was a message from the Charity Hospital that Mrs. Watson -was dying, and had asked for me. I did not care much about -going. There is a sort of melancholy pleasure to be had out of a -funeral, with its pomp and ceremony, but I shrank from a death- -bed. However, Liddy got out the black things and the crape veil -I keep for such occasions, and I went. I left Mr. Jamieson and -the day detective going over every inch of the circular -staircase, pounding, probing and measuring. I was inwardly -elated to think of the surprise I was going to give them that -night; as it turned out, I DID surprise them almost into -spasms. - -I drove from the train to the Charity Hospital, and was at once -taken to a ward. There, in a gray-walled room in a high iron -bed, lay Mrs. Watson. She was very weak, and she only opened her -eyes and looked at me when I sat down beside her. I was -conscience-stricken. We had been so engrossed that I had -left this poor creature to die without even a word of sympathy. - -The nurse gave her a stimulant, and in a little while she was -able to talk. So broken and half-coherent, however, was her -story that I shall tell it in my own way. In an hour from the -time I entered the Charity Hospital, I had heard a sad and -pitiful narrative, and had seen a woman slip into the -unconsciousness that is only a step from death. - -Briefly, then, the housekeeper's story was this: - -She was almost forty years old, and had been the sister-mother of -a large family of children. One by one they had died, and been -buried beside their parents in a little town in the Middle West. -There was only one sister left, the baby, Lucy. On her the older -girl had lavished all the love of an impulsive and emotional -nature. When Anne, the elder, was thirty-two and Lucy was -nineteen, a young man had come to the town. He was going east, -after spending the summer at a celebrated ranch in Wyoming--one -of those places where wealthy men send worthless and dissipated -sons, for a season of temperance, fresh air and hunting. The -sisters, of course, knew nothing of this, and the young -man's ardor rather carried them away. In a word, seven years -before, Lucy Haswell had married a young man whose name was given -as Aubrey Wallace. - -Anne Haswell had married a carpenter in her native town, and was -a widow. For three months everything went fairly well. Aubrey -took his bride to Chicago, where they lived at a hotel. Perhaps -the very unsophistication that had charmed him in Valley Mill -jarred on him in the city. He had been far from a model husband, -even for the three months, and when he disappeared Anne was -almost thankful. It was different with the young wife, however. -She drooped and fretted, and on the birth of her baby boy, she -had died. Anne took the child, and named him Lucien. - -Anne had had no children of her own, and on Lucien she had -lavished all her aborted maternal instinct. On one thing she was -determined, however: that was that Aubrey Wallace should educate -his boy. It was a part of her devotion to the child that she -should be ambitious for him: he must have every opportunity. And -so she came east. She drifted around, doing plain sewing and -keeping a home somewhere always for the boy. Finally, however, -she realized that her only training had been domestic, and -she put the boy in an Episcopalian home, and secured the position -of housekeeper to the Armstrongs. There she found Lucien's -father, this time under his own name. It was Arnold Armstrong. - -I gathered that there was no particular enmity at that time in -Anne's mind. She told him of the boy, and threatened exposure if -he did not provide for him. Indeed, for a time, he did so. Then -he realized that Lucien was the ruling passion in this lonely -woman's life. He found out where the child was hidden, and -threatened to take him away. Anne was frantic. The positions -became reversed. Where Arnold had given money for Lucien's -support, as the years went on he forced money from Anne Watson -instead until she was always penniless. The lower Arnold sank in -the scale, the heavier his demands became. With the rupture -between him and his family, things were worse. Anne took the -child from the home and hid him in a farmhouse near Casanova, on -the Claysburg road. There she went sometimes to see the boy, and -there he had taken fever. The people were Germans, and he called -the farmer's wife Grossmutter. He had grown into a beautiful -boy, and he was all Anne had to live for. - - -The Armstrongs left for California, and Arnold's persecutions -began anew. He was furious over the child's disappearance and -she was afraid he would do her some hurt. She left the big house -and went down to the lodge. When I had rented Sunnyside, -however, she had thought the persecutions would stop. She had -applied for the position of housekeeper, and secured it. - -That had been on Saturday. That night Louise arrived -unexpectedly. Thomas sent for Mrs. Watson and then went for -Arnold Armstrong at the Greenwood Club. Anne had been fond of -Louise--she reminded her of Lucy. She did not know what the -trouble was, but Louise had been in a state of terrible -excitement. Mrs. Watson tried to hide from Arnold, but he was -ugly. He left the lodge and went up to the house about two- -thirty, was admitted at the east entrance and came out again very -soon. Something had occurred, she didn't know what; but very -soon Mr. Innes and another gentleman left, using the car. - -Thomas and she had got Louise quiet, and a little before three, -Mrs. Watson started up to the house. Thomas had a key to the -east entry, and gave it to her. - -On the way across the lawn she was confronted by Arnold, who for -some reason was determined to get into the house. He had a -golf-stick in his hand, that he had picked up somewhere, and on -her refusal he had struck her with it. One hand had been badly -cut, and it was that, poisoning having set in, which was killing -her. She broke away in a frenzy of rage and fear, and got into -the house while Gertrude and Jack Bailey were at the front door. -She went up-stairs, hardly knowing what she was doing. -Gertrude's door was open, and Halsey's revolver lay there on the -bed. She picked it up and turning, ran part way down the -circular staircase. She could hear Arnold fumbling at the lock -outside. She slipped down quietly and opened the door: he was -inside before she had got back to the stairs. It was quite dark, -but she could see his white shirt-bosom. From the fourth step -she fired. As he fell, somebody in the billiard-room screamed -and ran. When the alarm was raised, she had had no time to get -up-stairs: she hid in the west wing until every one was down on -the lower floor. Then she slipped upstairs, and threw the -revolver out of an upper window, going down again in time to -admit the men from the Greenwood Club. - -If Thomas had suspected, he had never told. When she found the -hand Arnold had injured was growing worse, she gave the -address of Lucien at Richfield to the old man, and almost a -hundred dollars. The money was for Lucien's board until she -recovered. She had sent for me to ask me if I would try to -interest the Armstrongs in the child. When she found herself -growing worse, she had written to Mrs. Armstrong, telling her -nothing but that Arnold's legitimate child was at Richfield, and -imploring her to recognize him. She was dying: the boy was an -Armstrong, and entitled to his father's share of the estate. The -papers were in her trunk at Sunnyside, with letters from the dead -man that would prove what she said. She was going; she would not -be judged by earthly laws; and somewhere else perhaps Lucy would -plead for her. It was she who had crept down the circular -staircase, drawn by a magnet, that night Mr. Jamieson had heard -some one there. Pursued, she had fled madly, anywhere--through -the first door she came to. She had fallen down the clothes -chute, and been saved by the basket beneath. I could have cried -with relief; then it had not been Gertrude, after all! - -That was the story. Sad and tragic though it was, the very -telling of it seemed to relieve the dying woman. She did not -know that Thomas was dead, and I did not tell her. I -promised to look after little Lucien, and sat with her until the -intervals of consciousness grew shorter and finally ceased -altogether. She died that night. - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS - - -As I drove rapidly up to the house from Casanova Station in the -hack, I saw the detective Burns loitering across the street from -the Walker place. So Jamieson was putting the screws on--lightly -now, but ready to give them a twist or two, I felt certain, very -soon. - -The house was quiet. Two steps of the circular staircase had -been pried off, without result, and beyond a second message from -Gertrude, that Halsey insisted on coming home and they would -arrive that night, there was nothing new. Mr. Jamieson, having -failed to locate the secret room, had gone to the village. I -learned afterwards that he called at Doctor Walker's, under -pretense of an attack of acute indigestion, and before he left, -had inquired about the evening trains to the city. He said he -had wasted a lot of time on the case, and a good bit of the -mystery was in my imagination! The doctor was under -the impression that the house was guarded day and night. Well, -give a place a reputation like that, and you don't need a guard -at all,--thus Jamieson. And sure enough, late in the afternoon, -the two private detectives, accompanied by Mr. Jamieson, walked -down the main street of Casanova and took a city-bound train. - -That they got off at the next station and walked back again to -Sunnyside at dusk, was not known at the time. Personally, I knew -nothing of either move; I had other things to absorb me at that -time. - -Liddy brought me some tea while I rested after my trip, and on -the tray was a small book from the Casanova library. It was -called The Unseen World and had a cheerful cover on which a -half-dozen sheeted figures linked hands around a headstone. - -At this point in my story, Halsey always says: "Trust a woman to -add two and two together, and make six." To which I retort that -if two and two plus X make six, then to discover the unknown -quantity is the simplest thing in the world. That a houseful of -detectives missed it entirely was because they were busy trying -to prove that two and two make four. - -The depression due to my visit to the hospital left me at the -prospect of seeing Halsey again that night. It was about five -o'clock when Liddy left me for a nap before dinner, having put me -into a gray silk dressing-gown and a pair of slippers. I -listened to her retreating footsteps, and as soon as she was -safely below stairs, I went up to the trunk-room. The place had -not been disturbed, and I proceeded at once to try to discover -the entrance to the hidden room. The openings on either side, as -I have said, showed nothing but perhaps three feet of brick wall. - -There was no sign of an entrance--no levers, no hinges, to give a -hint. Either the mantel or the roof, I decided, and after a -half-hour at the mantel, productive of absolutely no result, I -decided to try the roof. - -I am not fond of a height. The few occasions on which I have -climbed a step-ladder have always left me dizzy and weak in the -knees. The top of the Washington monument is as impossible to me -as the elevation of the presidential chair. And yet--I climbed -out on to the Sunnyside roof without a second's hesitation. Like -a dog on a scent, like my bearskin progenitor, with his spear and -his wild boar, to me now there was the lust of the chase, the -frenzy of pursuit, the dust of battle. I got quite a little -of the latter on me as I climbed from the unfinished ball-room -out through a window to the roof of the east wing of the -building, which was only two stories in height. - -Once out there, access to the top of the main building was -rendered easy--at least it looked easy--by a small vertical iron -ladder, fastened to the wall outside of the ball-room, and -perhaps twelve feet high. The twelve feet looked short from -below, but they were difficult to climb. I gathered my silk gown -around me, and succeeded finally in making the top of the ladder. - -Once there, however, I was completely out of breath. I sat down, -my feet on the top rung, and put my hair pins in more securely, -while the wind bellowed my dressing-gown out like a sail. I had -torn a great strip of the silk loose, and now I ruthlessly -finished the destruction of my gown by jerking it free and tying -it around my head. - -From far below the smallest sounds came up with peculiar -distinctness. I could hear the paper boy whistling down the -drive, and I heard something else. I heard the thud of a stone, -and a spit, followed by a long and startled meiou from Beulah. -I forgot my fear of a height, and advanced boldly almost to -the edge of the roof. - -It was half-past six by that time, and growing dusk. - -"You boy, down there!" I called. - -The paper boy turned and looked around. Then, seeing nobody, he -raised his eyes. It was a moment before he located me: when he -did, he stood for one moment as if paralyzed, then he gave a -horrible yell, and dropping his papers, bolted across the lawn to -the road without stopping to look around. Once he fell, and his -impetus was so great that he turned an involuntary somersault. -He was up and off again without any perceptible pause, and he -leaped the hedge--which I am sure under ordinary stress would -have been a feat for a man. - -I am glad in this way to settle the Gray Lady story, which is -still a choice morsel in Casanova. I believe the moral deduced -by the village was that it is always unlucky to throw a stone at -a black cat. - -With Johnny Sweeny a cloud of dust down the road, and the dinner- -hour approaching, I hurried on with my investigations. Luckily, -the roof was flat, and I was able to go over every inch of it. -But the result was disappointing; no trap-door revealed -itself, no glass window; nothing but a couple of pipes two inches -across, and standing perhaps eighteen inches high and three feet -apart, with a cap to prevent rain from entering and raised to -permit the passage of air. I picked up a pebble from the roof -and dropped it down, listening with my ear at one of the pipes. -I could hear it strike on something with a sharp, metallic sound, -but it was impossible for me to tell how far it had gone. - -I gave up finally and went down the ladder again, getting in -through the ball-room window without being observed. I went back -at once to the trunk-room, and, sitting down on a box, I gave my -mind, as consistently as I could, to the problem before me. If -the pipes in the roof were ventilators to the secret room, and -there was no trap-door above, the entrance was probably in one of -the two rooms between which it lay--unless, indeed, the room had -been built, and the opening then closed with a brick and mortar -wall. - -The mantel fascinated me. Made of wood and carved, the more I -looked the more I wondered that I had not noticed before the -absurdity of such a mantel in such a place. It was covered with -scrolls and panels, and finally, by the merest accident, I -pushed one of the panels to the side. It moved easily, revealing -a small brass knob. - -It is not necessary to detail the fluctuations of hope and -despair, and not a little fear of what lay beyond, with which I -twisted and turned the knob. It moved, but nothing seemed to -happen, and then I discovered the trouble. I pushed the knob -vigorously to one side, and the whole mantel swung loose from the -wall almost a foot, revealing a cavernous space beyond. - -I took a long breath, closed the door from the trunk-room into -the hall--thank Heaven, I did not lock it--and pulling the -mantel-door wide open, I stepped into the chimney-room. I had -time to get a hazy view of a small portable safe, a common wooden -table and a chair--then the mantel door swung to, and clicked -behind me. I stood quite still for a moment, in the darkness, -unable to comprehend what had happened. Then I turned and beat -furiously at the door with my fists. It was closed and locked -again, and my fingers in the darkness slid over a smooth wooden -surface without a sign of a knob. - -I was furiously angry--at myself, at the mantel door, at -everything. I did not fear suffocation; before the thought -had come to me I had already seen a gleam of light from the two -small ventilating pipes in the roof. They supplied air, but -nothing else. The room itself was shrouded in blackness. - -I sat down in the stiff-backed chair and tried to remember how -many days one could live without food and water. When that grew -monotonous and rather painful, I got up and, according to the -time-honored rule for people shut in unknown and ink-black -prisons, I felt my way around--it was small enough, goodness -knows. I felt nothing but a splintery surface of boards, and in -endeavoring to get back to the chair, something struck me full in -the face, and fell with the noise of a thousand explosions to the -ground. When I had gathered up my nerves again, I found it had -been the bulb of a swinging electric light, and that had it not -been for the accident, I might have starved to death in an -illuminated sepulcher. - -I must have dozed off. I am sure I did not faint. I was never -more composed in my life. I remember planning, if I were not -discovered, who would have my things. I knew Liddy would want my -heliotrope poplin, and she's a fright in lavender. Once or twice -I heard mice in the partitions, and so I sat on the table, -with my feet on the chair. I imagined I could hear the search -going on through the house, and once some one came into the -trunk-room; I could distinctly hear footsteps. - -"In the chimney! In the chimney!" I called with all my might, -and was rewarded by a piercing shriek from Liddy and the slam of -the trunk-room door. - -I felt easier after that, although the room was oppressively hot -and enervating. I had no doubt the search for me would now come -in the right direction, and after a little, I dropped into a -doze. How long I slept I do not know. - -It must have been several hours, for I had been tired from a busy -day, and I wakened stiff from my awkward position. I could not -remember where I was for a few minutes, and my head felt heavy -and congested. Gradually I roused to my surroundings, and to the -fact that in spite of the ventilators, the air was bad and -growing worse. I was breathing long, gasping respirations, and -my face was damp and clammy. I must have been there a long time, -and the searchers were probably hunting outside the house, -dredging the creek, or beating the woodland. I knew that another -hour or two would find me unconscious, and with my inability -to cry out would go my only chance of rescue. It was the -combination of bad air and heat, probably, for some inadequate -ventilation was coming through the pipes. I tried to retain my -consciousness by walking the length of the room and back, over -and over, but I had not the strength to keep it up, so I sat down -on the table again, my back against the wall. - -The house was very still. Once my straining ears seemed to catch -a footfall beneath me, possibly in my own room. I groped for the -chair from the table, and pounded with it frantically on the -floor. But nothing happened: I realized bitterly that if the -sound was heard at all, no doubt it was classed with the other -rappings that had so alarmed us recently. - -It was impossible to judge the flight of time. I measured five -minutes by counting my pulse, allowing seventy-two beats to the -minute. But it took eternities, and toward the last I found it -hard to count; my head was confused. - -And then--I heard sounds from below me, in the house. There was -a peculiar throbbing, vibrating noise that I felt rather than -heard, much like the pulsing beat of fire engines in the city. -For one awful moment I thought the house was on fire, and every -drop of blood in my body gathered around my heart; then I -knew. It was the engine of the automobile, and Halsey had come -back. Hope sprang up afresh. Halsey's clear head and Gertrude's -intuition might do what Liddy's hysteria and three detectives had -failed in. - -After a time I thought I had been right. There was certainly -something going on down below; doors were slamming, people were -hurrying through the halls, and certain high notes of excited -voices penetrated to me shrilly. I hoped they were coming -closer, but after a time the sounds died away below, and I was -left to the silence and heat, to the weight of the darkness, to -the oppression of walls that seemed to close in on me and stifle -me. - -The first warning I had was a stealthy fumbling at the lock of -the mantel-door. With my mouth open to scream, I stopped. -Perhaps the situation had rendered me acute, perhaps it was -instinctive. Whatever it was, I sat without moving, and some one -outside, in absolute stillness, ran his fingers over the carving -of the mantel and--found the panel. - -Now the sounds below redoubled: from the clatter and jarring I -knew that several people were running up the stairs, and as -the sounds approached, I could even hear what they said. - -"Watch the end staircases!" Jamieson was shouting. "Damnation-- -there's no light here!" And then a second later. "All together -now. One--two--three--" - -The door into the trunk-room had been locked from the inside. At -the second that it gave, opening against the wall with a crash -and evidently tumbling somebody into the room, the stealthy -fingers beyond the mantel-door gave the knob the proper impetus, -and--the door swung open, and closed again. Only--and Liddy -always screams and puts her fingers in her ears at this point-- -only now I was not alone in the chimney room. There was some one -else in the darkness, some one who breathed hard, and who was so -close I could have touched him with my hand. - -I was in a paralysis of terror. Outside there were excited -voices and incredulous oaths. The trunks were being jerked -around in a frantic search, the windows were thrown open, only to -show a sheer drop of forty feet. And the man in the room with me -leaned against the mantel-door and listened. His pursuers were -plainly baffled: I heard him draw a long breath, and turn to -grope his way through the blackness. Then--he touched my hand, -cold, clammy, death-like. - -A hand in an empty room! He drew in his breath, the sharp -intaking of horror that fills lungs suddenly collapsed. Beyond -jerking his hand away instantly, he made no movement. I think -absolute terror had him by the throat. Then he stepped back, -without turning, retreating foot by foot from The Dread in the -corner, and I do not think he breathed. - -Then, with the relief of space between us, I screamed, ear- -splittingly, madly, and they heard me outside. - -"In the chimney!" I shrieked. "Behind the mantel! The mantel!" - -With an oath the figure hurled itself across the room at me, and -I screamed again. In his blind fury he had missed me; I heard -him strike the wall. That one time I eluded him; I was across -the room, and I had got the chair. He stood for a second, -listening, then--he made another rush, and I struck out with my -weapon. I think it stunned him, for I had a second's respite -when I could hear him breathing, and some one shouted outside: - -"We--Can't--get--in. How--does--it--open?" - -But the man in the room had changed his tactics. I knew he was -creeping on me, inch by inch, and I could not tell from where. -And then--he caught me. He held his hand over my mouth, and I -bit him. I was helpless, strangling,--and some one was trying to -break in the mantel from outside. It began to yield somewhere, -for a thin wedge of yellowish light was reflected on the opposite -wall. When he saw that, my assailant dropped me with a curse; -then--the opposite wall swung open noiselessly, closed again -without a sound, and I was alone. The intruder was gone. - -"In the next room!" I called wildly. "The next room!" But the -sound of blows on the mantel drowned my voice. By the time I had -made them understand, a couple of minutes had elapsed. The -pursuit was taken up then, by all except Alex, who was determined -to liberate me. When I stepped out into the trunk-room, a free -woman again, I could hear the chase far below. - -I must say, for all Alex's anxiety to set me free, he paid little -enough attention to my plight. He jumped through the opening -into the secret room, and picked up the portable safe. - -"I am going to put this in Mr. Halsey's room, Miss Innes," -he said, "and I shall send one of the detectives to guard it." - -I hardly heard him. I wanted to laugh and cry in the same -breath--to crawl into bed and have a cup of tea, and scold Liddy, -and do any of the thousand natural things that I had never -expected to do again. And the air! The touch of the cool night -air on my face! - -As Alex and I reached the second floor, Mr. Jamieson met us. He -was grave and quiet, and he nodded comprehendingly when he saw -the safe. - -"Will you come with me for a moment, Miss Innes?" he asked -soberly, and on my assenting, he led the way to the east wing. -There were lights moving around below, and some of the maids were -standing gaping down. They screamed when they saw me, and drew -back to let me pass. There was a sort of hush over the scene; -Alex, behind me, muttered something I could not hear, and brushed -past me without ceremony. Then I realized that a man was lying -doubled up at the foot of the staircase, and that Alex was -stooping over him. - -As I came slowly down, Winters stepped back, and Alex -straightened himself, looking at me across the body with -impenetrable eyes. In his hand he held a shaggy gray wig, and -before me on the floor lay the man whose headstone stood in -Casanova churchyard--Paul Armstrong. - -Winters told the story in a dozen words. In his headlong flight -down the circular staircase, with Winters just behind, Paul -Armstrong had pitched forward violently, struck his head against -the door to the east veranda, and probably broken his neck. He -had died as Winters reached him. - -As the detective finished, I saw Halsey, pale and shaken, in the -card-room doorway, and for the first time that night I lost my -self-control. I put my arms around my boy, and for a moment he -had to support me. A second later, over Halsey's shoulder, I saw -something that turned my emotion into other channels, for, behind -him, in the shadowy card-room, were Gertrude and Alex, the -gardener, and--there is no use mincing matters--he was kissing -her! - -I was unable to speak. Twice I opened my mouth: then I turned -Halsey around and pointed. They were quite unconscious of us; -her head was on his shoulder, his face against her hair. As it -happened, it was Mr. Jamieson who broke up the tableau. - -He stepped over to Alex and touched him on the arm. - -"And now," he said quietly, "how long are you and I to play -OUR little comedy, Mr. Bailey?" - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -THE ODDS AND ENDS - -Of Doctor Walker's sensational escape that night to South -America, of the recovery of over a million dollars in cash and -securities in the safe from the chimney room--the papers have -kept the public well informed. Of my share in discovering the -secret chamber they have been singularly silent. The inner -history has never been told. Mr. Jamieson got all kinds of -credit, and some of it he deserved, but if Jack Bailey, as Alex, -had not traced Halsey and insisted on the disinterring of Paul -Armstrong's casket, if he had not suspected the truth from the -start, where would the detective have been? - -When Halsey learned the truth, he insisted on going the next -morning, weak as he was, to Louise, and by night she was at -Sunnyside, under Gertrude's particular care, while her mother had -gone to Barbara Fitzhugh's. - -What Halsey said to Mrs. Armstrong I never knew, but that he was -considerate and chivalrous I feel confident. It was Halsey's way -always with women. - -He and Louise had no conversation together until that night. -Gertrude and Alex--I mean Jack--had gone for a walk, although it -was nine o'clock, and anybody but a pair of young geese would -have known that dew was falling, and that it is next to -impossible to get rid of a summer cold. - -At half after nine, growing weary of my own company, I went down- -stairs to find the young people. At the door of the living-room -I paused. Gertrude and Jack had returned and were there, sitting -together on a divan, with only one lamp lighted. They did not -see or hear me, and I beat a hasty retreat to the library. But -here again I was driven back. Louise was sitting in a deep -chair, looking the happiest I had ever seen her, with Halsey on -the arm of the chair, holding her close. - -It was no place for an elderly spinster. I retired to my up- -stairs sitting-room and got out Eliza Klinefelter's lavender -slippers. Ah, well, the foster motherhood would soon have to be -put away in camphor again. - -The next day, by degrees, I got the whole story. - -Paul Armstrong had a besetting evil--the love of money. Common -enough, but he loved money, not for what it would buy, but for -its own sake. An examination of the books showed no -irregularities in the past year since John had been cashier, but -before that, in the time of Anderson, the old cashier, who had -died, much strange juggling had been done with the records. The -railroad in New Mexico had apparently drained the banker's -private fortune, and he determined to retrieve it by one stroke. -This was nothing less than the looting of the bank's securities, -turning them into money, and making his escape. - -But the law has long arms. Paul Armstrong evidently studied the -situation carefully. Just as the only good Indian is a dead -Indian, so the only safe defaulter is a dead defaulter. He -decided to die, to all appearances, and when the hue and cry -subsided, he would be able to enjoy his money almost anywhere he -wished. - -The first necessity was an accomplice. The connivance of Doctor -Walker was suggested by his love for Louise. The man was -unscrupulous, and with the girl as a bait, Paul Armstrong soon -had him fast. The plan was apparently the acme of -simplicity: a small town in the west, an attack of heart disease, -a body from a medical college dissecting-room shipped in a trunk -to Doctor Walker by a colleague in San Francisco, and palmed off -for the supposed dead banker. What was simpler? - -The woman, Nina Carrington, was the cog that slipped. What she -only suspected, what she really knew, we never learned. She was -a chambermaid in the hotel at C--, and it was evidently her -intention to blackmail Doctor Walker. His position at that time -was uncomfortable: to pay the woman to keep quiet would be -confession. He denied the whole thing, and she went to Halsey. - -It was this that had taken Halsey to the doctor the night he -disappeared. He accused the doctor of the deception, and, -crossing the lawn, had said something cruel to Louise. Then, -furious at her apparent connivance, he had started for the -station. Doctor Walker and Paul Armstrong--the latter still lame -where I had shot him--hurried across to the embankment, certain -only of one thing. Halsey must not tell the detective what he -suspected until the money had been removed from the chimney- -room. They stepped into the road in front of the car to stop -it, and fate played into their hands. The car struck the train, -and they had only to dispose of the unconscious figure in the -road. This they did as I have told. For three days Halsey lay -in the box car, tied hand and foot, suffering tortures of thirst, -delirious at times, and discovered by a tramp at Johnsville only -in time to save his life. - -To go back to Paul Armstrong. At the last moment his plans had -been frustrated. Sunnyside, with its hoard in the chimney-room, -had been rented without his knowledge! Attempts to dislodge me -having failed, he was driven to breaking into his own house. The -ladder in the chute, the burning of the stable and the entrance -through the card-room window--all were in the course of a -desperate attempt to get into the chimney-room. - -Louise and her mother had, from the first, been the great -stumbling-blocks. The plan had been to send Louise away until it -was too late for her to interfere, but she came back to the hotel -at C-- just at the wrong time. There was a terrible scene. The -girl was told that something of the kind was necessary, that -the bank was about to close and her stepfather would either avoid -arrest and disgrace in this way, or kill himself. Fanny -Armstrong was a weakling, but Louise was more difficult to -manage. She had no love for her stepfather, but her devotion to -her mother was entire, self-sacrificing. Forced into -acquiescence by her mother's appeals, overwhelmed by the -situation, the girl consented and fled. - -From somewhere in Colorado she sent an anonymous telegram to Jack -Bailey at the Traders' Bank. Trapped as she was, she did not -want to see an innocent man arrested. The telegram, received on -Thursday, had sent the cashier to the bank that night in a -frenzy. - -Louise arrived at Sunnyside and found the house rented. Not -knowing what to do, she sent for Arnold at the Greenwood Club, -and told him a little, not all. She told him that there was -something wrong, and that the bank was about to close. That his -father was responsible. Of the conspiracy she said nothing. To -her surprise, Arnold already knew, through Bailey that night, -that things were not right. Moreover, he suspected what Louise -did not, that the money was hidden at Sunnyside. He had a scrap -of paper that indicated a concealed room somewhere. - -His inherited cupidity was aroused. Eager to get -Halsey and Jack Bailey out of the house, he went up to the -east entry, and in the billiard-room gave the cashier what he had -refused earlier in the evening--the address of Paul Armstrong in -California and a telegram which had been forwarded to the club -for Bailey, from Doctor Walker. It was in response to one Bailey -had sent, and it said that Paul Armstrong was very ill. - -Bailey was almost desperate. He decided to go west and find Paul -Armstrong, and to force him to disgorge. But the catastrophe at -the bank occurred sooner than he had expected. On the moment of -starting west, at Andrews Station, where Mr. Jamieson had located -the car, he read that the bank had closed, and, going back, -surrendered himself. - -John Bailey had known Paul Armstrong intimately. He did not -believe that the money was gone; in fact, it was hardly possible -in the interval since the securities had been taken. Where was -it? And from some chance remark let fall some months earlier by -Arnold Armstrong at a dinner, Bailey felt sure there was a hidden -room at Sunnyside. He tried to see the architect of the -building, but, like the contractor, if he knew of the such a room -he -refused any information. It was Halsey's idea that John -Bailey come to the house as a gardener, and pursue his -investigations as he could. His smooth upper lip had been -sufficient disguise, with his change of clothes, and a hair-cut -by a country barber. - -So it was Alex, Jack Bailey, who had been our ghost. Not only -had he alarmed--Louise and himself, he admitted--on the circular -staircase, but he had dug the hole in the trunk-room wall, and -later sent Eliza into hysteria. The note Liddy had found in -Gertrude's scrap-basket was from him, and it was he who had -startled me into unconsciousness by the clothes chute, and, with -Gertrude's help, had carried me to Louise's room. Gertrude, I -learned, had watched all night beside me, in an extremity of -anxiety about me. - -That old Thomas had seen his master, and thought he had seen the -Sunnyside ghost, there could be no doubt. Of that story of -Thomas', about seeing Jack Bailey in the footpath between the -club and Sunnyside, the night Liddy and I heard the noise on the -circular staircase--that, too, was right. On the night before -Arnold Armstrong was murdered, Jack Bailey had made his first -attempt to search for the secret room. He secured Arnold's keys -from his room at the club and got into the house, armed with a -golf-stick for sounding the walls. He ran against the hamper at -the head of the stairs, caught his cuff-link in it, and dropped -the golf-stick with a crash. He was glad enough to get away -without -an alarm being raised, and he took the "owl" train to town. - -The oddest thing to me was that Mr. Jamieson had known for some -time that Alex was Jack Bailey. But the face of the pseudo- -gardener was very queer indeed, when that night, in the card- -room, the detective turned to him and said: - -"How long are you and I going to play our little comedy, MR. -BAILEY?" - -Well, it is all over now. Paul Armstrong rests in Casanova -churchyard, and this time there is no mistake. I went to the -funeral, because I wanted to be sure he was really buried, and I -looked at the step of the shaft where I had sat that night, and -wondered if it was all real. Sunnyside is for sale--no, I shall -not buy it. Little Lucien Armstrong is living with his step- -grandmother, and she is recovering gradually from troubles that -had extended over the entire period of her second marriage. -Anne Watson lies not far from the man she killed, and who as -surely caused her death. Thomas, the fourth victim of the -conspiracy, is buried on the hill. With Nina Carrington, -five lives were sacrificed in the course of this grim conspiracy. - -There will be two weddings before long, and Liddy has asked for -my heliotrope poplin to wear to the church. I knew she would. -She has wanted it for three years, and she was quite ugly the -time I spilled coffee on it. We are very quiet, just the two of -us. Liddy still clings to her ghost theory, and points to my wet -and muddy boots in the trunk-room as proof. I am gray, I admit, -but I haven't felt as well in a dozen years. Sometimes, when I -am bored, I ring for Liddy, and we talk things over. When Warner -married Rosie, Liddy sniffed and said what I took for -faithfulness in Rosie had been nothing but mawkishness. I have -not yet outlived Liddy's contempt because I gave them silver -knives and forks as a wedding gift. - -So we sit and talk, and sometimes Liddy threatens to leave, and -often I discharge her, but we stay together somehow. I am -talking of renting a house next year, and Liddy says to be sure -there is no ghost. To be perfectly frank, I never really lived -until that summer. Time has passed since I began this story. -My neighbors are packing up for another summer. Liddy is having -the awnings put up, and the window boxes filled. Liddy or no -Liddy, I shall advertise to-morrow for a house in the country, -and I don't care if it has a Circular Staircase. - - - - -End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Circular Staircase - |