xpression on her face one might think she
had no more intelligence than object. Josie had the faculty of
appearing dull and stupid. A fishy look would come in her clever eyes
and she could assume the expression of a moron. She was apt to take on
this facial disguise whenever she was deeply interested in a case.

There was the Waller house on the corner, a handsome structure of pure
colonial architecture. The grounds around it were spacious for a city,
with box bushes whose size were indicative of their great age. The
walls of the house were almost covered with thick English ivy, but the
weathered pink of the old brick asserted itself in spots. The yard,
front and sides, had flower beds bordered with violets and the formal
walks were also indicated by rows of the fragrant flower. Magnolia
trees with glossy leaves and great white waxen blossoms shaded the
house and over the brick wall, that extended down the side street,
leaned fig trees.

Peachtree Street runs along the top of a ridge and the side streets
slope from it. This means that the houses must be built with basements
in the rear. Usually the kitchen and servants' quarters are in this
basement. Josie's walk led her down the side street. In the wall near
the end of the lot was a green door, no doubt the servants' and
tradesmen's entrance. Facing on the alley was a large garage, the door
of which was open. There was little sign of life about the place. Josie
noticed some belated clothes hanging on a line in the back yard. By
tiptoeing she could see over the wall. The wash was that of a man,
rather sporty striped shirts and socks of many colors.

"Mighty late to be having the wash still hanging out," said Josie to
herself. "Having trouble with servants, I wager. Hope so, anyhow."

As she started to cross the alley the honk of a horn warned her of the
approach of an automobile. She stepped back and a big touring car
turned into the alley. Josie looked up. A very handsome man of about
forty was alone in the car, which he drove with great skill. He
directed his car into the garage with noiseless shifting of gears.

Josie eyed him dully, which meant that not one detail of his
countenance or clothing escaped her. She even noted the make of the
car. The man glanced casually at Josie but she was nothing more than a
pedestrian crossing the alley to him, and a stupid-looking pedestrian
at that, who did not cross the alley even when she had a chance. Josie
stood for a mom