ver and breaking it.
He had cut the cover of the cartridge box and had slipped a cartridge
into the weapon when he heard the voice of the woman at his ear.

"D'ye think there's any danger, sir?" she whispered, while she nervously
eyed the weapon.

"I'm sure I don't know. Not to you, I'd say," he muttered, still putting
the cartridges in the pistol. As an ex-military man, he was taking
great delight in the perfect mechanism of his new weapon.

"What is it----? I mean, d'ye think----," she stammered, "did Mr.
McGuire say--just what it is he's afraid of?"

"No," said Peter, "he didn't." And then with a grin, "Do you know?"

"No, sir. I wish t'God I did. Then there'd be somethin' to go by."

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mrs. ----"

"Tillie Bergen. I've been housekeeper here since the new wing was put
on----"

"Oh, yes," said Peter, pausing over the last cartridge as the thought
came to him. "Then you must be Beth Cameron's aunt?"

"Beth?" The woman's sober face wreathed in a lovely smile. "D'ye know
Beth?"

"Since this afternoon. She showed me the way."

"Oh. Poor Beth."

"Poor!"

"Oh, we're all poor, Mr. Nichols. But Beth she's--different from the
rest of us somehow."

"Yes, she _is_ different," admitted Peter frankly.

Mrs. Bergen sighed deeply. "Ye don't know how different. And now
that--all this trouble has come, I can't get home nights to her. And she
can't come to see me without permission. How long d'ye think it will
last, sir?"

"I don't know," said Peter, slipping the revolver and cartridges into
his pockets. And then gallantly, "If I can offer you my services, I'd be
glad to take you home at night----"

"It's against orders. And I wouldn't dare, Mr. Nichols. As it is I've
got about as much as I can stand. If it wasn't for the money I wouldn't
be stayin' in the house another hour."

"Perhaps things won't be so bad after a time. If anything is going to
happen, it ought to be pretty soon."

She regarded him wistfully as he moved toward the door. "An' ye'll tell
me, sir, if anything out o' the way happens."

"I hope nothing is going to happen, Mrs. Bergen," said Peter cheerfully.

Stryker appeared mysteriously from the darkness as Peter went out into
the hall.

"The upstairs girl made up your bed down at the cabin, sir. The
chauffeur took your bag over. You'll need these matches. If you'll wait,
sir, I'll call Mr. Wells."

Peter wondered at the man in this most unconventional household,