hing from the city by train and
automobile. The last city editions of the morning papers would have at
least the fact of the murder; there would be later extras; the
afternoon papers would have it all. There was a long list of relatives
and friends to whom it was due that telegraphic announcement of Wallace
Blatchford's death reach them before they read it as a sensation
publicly printed. Recollection of these people at least gave her
something to do.

She went up to her own room, listed the names and prepared the
telegrams for them; she came down again and gave the telegrams to
Fairley to transmit by telephone. As she descended the stairs, the
great clock in the lower hall struck once; it was a quarter past three.

There was a stir in these lower rooms now; the officers of the local
police had arrived. She went with them to the study, where they
assumed charge nervously and uncertainly. She could not bear to be in
that room; nevertheless she remained and answered their questions. She
took them to Eaton's rooms on the floor above, where they searched
through and took charge of all his things. She left them and came down
again and went out to the front of the house.

The night was sharp with the chill preceding the day; it had cleared;
the stars were shining. As she stood looking to the west, the lights
of a motor turned into the grounds. She ran toward it, thinking it
must be bringing word of some sort; but the men who leaped from it were
strangers to her--they were the first of the reporters to arrive. They
tried to question her, but she ran from them into the house. She
watched from the windows and saw other reporters arriving. To Harriet
there seemed to be scores of them. Every morning paper in Chicago,
immediately upon receipt of the first flash, had sent at least three
men; every evening paper seemed to have aroused half its staff from
their beds and sent them racing to the blind millionaire's home on the
north shore. Even men from Milwaukee papers arrived at four o'clock.
Forbidden the house, they surrounded it and captured servants. They
took flashlights till, driven from the lawn, they went away--many of
them--to see and take part in the search through the woods for
Blatchford's murderer. The murder of Santoine's cousin--the man,
moreover, who had blinded Santoine--in the presence of the blind man
was enough of itself to furnish a newspaper sensation; but, following
so closely Santoine's visi