ught to hear footsteps outside. At any rate, the chirp of the frog
came to an abrupt end.

Shortly my host returned and took up his monologue. It amounted to
that. He seemed to delight in choosing unusual subjects and then backing
me into a corner with an array of well-considered phrases that allowed
me no opening for reply nor even comment. In one of my desperate
attempts to gain even a momentary initiative I asked him, apropos of the
piano, whether his daughter played.

"Do you like music?" he added, and without waiting for a reply seated
himself at the instrument.

He played to me for half an hour. I do not know much about music; but I
know he played well and that he played good things. Also that, for the
first time, he came out of himself, abandoned himself to feeling. His
close-cropped head swayed from side to side; his staring, wildcat eyes
half closed----

He slammed shut the piano and arose, more drily precise than ever.

"I imagine all that is rather beyond your apperceptions," he remarked,
"and that you are ready for your bed. Here is a short document I would
have you take to your room for perusal. Good-night."

He tendered me a small, folded paper which I thrust into the breast
pocket of my shirt along with the note handed me earlier in the evening
by the girl. Thus dismissed I was only too delighted to repair to my
bedroom.

There I first carefully drew together the curtains; then examined the
first of the papers I drew from my pocket. It proved to be the one from
the girl, and read as follows:

I am here against my will. I am not this man's daughter. For God's
sake if you can help me, do so. But be careful for he is a
dangerous man. My room is the last one on the left wing of the
court. I am constantly guarded. I do not know what you can do. The
case is hopeless. I cannot write more. I am watched.

I unfolded the paper Hooper himself had given me. It was similar in
appearance to the other, and read:

I am held a prisoner. This man Hooper is not my father but he is
vindictive and cruel and dangerous. Beware for yourself. I live in
the last room in the left wing. I am watched, so cannot write more.

The handwriting of the two documents was the same. I stared at one paper
and then at the other, and for a half hour I thought all the thoughts
appropriate to the occasion. They led me nowhere, and would not interest
you.

CHAPTER IV

After a time I w