ion will change any house
into a tomb. And the Worth mansion was never too cheerful, anyway. Since
the others of the family died, Ned hadn't stayed there long enough at a
time to humanize it.

Ned's man set down the grip, unstrapped it, took his orders for some
late purchases, and left to execute them. I went over to open the two
deep-set windows on the farther side of the room. It was a still, close
October night, and the late scent of warmed-over earth came up to me out
of Ely Crouch's garden next door. From where I stood in the broad
embrasure of the south window, I was concealed from the room. But I
could see everything through a tiny gap in the hangings. Ned sat at his
desk sorting some papers. A sort of stern intentness had settled upon
his face, without marring its curious faun-like beauty. I carry the
picture in my mind.

"What's become of you, Chris?" he demanded presently. I came out into
the main part of the room. "Oh, there you are! You'll look after a few
little matters for me, won't you?" He indicated a sheaf of papers.

"You needn't be in such a hurry," said I with illogical resentment. "It
isn't going to be to-morrow or next week."

"Isn't it?" Something in his tone made me look at him sharply. "Six
months or three months or to-morrow," he added, more lightly; "what does
it matter as long as it's sure! You know, what I appreciate is that you
gave me the truth straight."

"It's a luxury few of my patients get. Their constitutions won't stand
it."

"It's a compliment to my nerve. Strangely enough I don't feel nervous
about it."

"I do. Damnably! About something, anyway. There's something wrong with
this room, Ned. What is it?"

"Don't you know?" he laughed. "It's the sepulchral silence of Old
Grandfather Clock, over there. You're looking right at him and wondering
subconsciously why he doesn't make a noise like Time."

"That's easily remedied." Consulting my watch I set and wound the
ancient timepiece. Its comfortable iteration made the place at once more
livable. Immediately it struck the hour.

"Ten o'clock," I said, and parted the draperies at the lower window to
look out again. "Ten o'clock of a still, cloudy night and--and the devil
is on a prowl in his garden."

"Meaning my highly respected neighbor and ornament to the local bar, the
Honorable Ely Crouch?"

"Exactly. Preceded by a familiar spirit in animal form."

"Oh, that's his pet ferret and boon companion."

"Not his only compa