ile I can never forget in my life, and opened
the kitchen door and went out.

"'She's going to give a supper!' whispered Mr. Perkins.

"'It looks like it,' said I. 'And a mighty fine one at that.'

"In a minute she came back with a pail, in which were four bottles
of champagne, in her hand. This she took into the cellar, returning
to the kitchen as the clock struck twelve.

"Then the queerest part began," said the detective. "For ten
minutes by the clock people were apparently arriving, though, as far
as Mr. Perkins or I could see, there wasn't a soul in the kitchen
besides Margaret. She was talking away like one possessed. Every
once in a while she'd stop in the middle of a sentence and rush to
the door and shake hands with some, to us invisible, arrival. Then
she'd walk in with them chatting and laughing. Several times she
went through the motion of taking people's hats, and finally, if we
could judge from her actions, she had 'em all seated at the table.
She passed salads all around, helping each guest herself. She sent
them fruit and cakes, and then she brought out the wine, which she
distributed in the same fashion. She also apologized because some
ice-cream she had ordered hadn't come.

"When the invisible guests appeared to have had all they could eat,
she began the chatty part again, and never seemed to be disturbed
but once, when she requested some one not to sing so loud for fear
of disturbing the family.

"Altogether it was the weirdest and rummest thing I'd ever seen in
my life. We watched it for one full hour, and then we quit because
she did. At one o'clock she apparently bade her guests good-night,
after which she gathered up and put away all the eatables there were
left--and, of course, everything but what she had eaten herself
still remained--cleaned all the dishes, restored them to their
proper places in the dining-room pantry, and went back up-stairs to
her room.

"Mr. Perkins and I didn't know what to make of it. There wasn't a
thing stolen, and it was clear to my mind that I'd done the woman an
injustice in connecting her with thieves. She was honest, except in
so far as she had ordered all those salads and creams and things
from time to time on Mr. Perkins's account, which was easy enough
for her to do, since Mrs. Perkins let her do the ordering. There
was only one explanation of the matter. She was crazy, and I said
so.

"'I fancy you are right,' said Mr. Perkins. 'We'll