ted before it. It was clear that she felt a sort of resentment
at not recognizing the young and smiling woman in the old walnut frame,
but a moment later she was measuring the dresser-top, her mind set on
Christmas benevolence.

However, before she went out, she paused near the photograph.

"It's queer," she said. "I've been in this room about a thousand times,
and I've never noticed it before. I suppose you can get so accustomed to
a thing that you don't notice it."

As she went out, she turned to me, and I gathered that not only the
measurement for a gift had brought her that afternoon.

"About those books," she said. "I run on a lot when I get to talking.
I suppose I shouldn't have mentioned them. But I'm sure you'll keep the
story to yourself. I've never even told Mr. Graves."

"Of course I shall," I assured her. "But--didn't the hackman see you
packing the books?"

"No, indeed. We packed them the afternoon after the funeral, and it was
the next day that Staley took them off. He thought it was old bedding
and so on, and he hinted to have it given to him. So Miss Emily and I
went along to see it was done right."

So I discovered that the box had sat overnight in the Benton house.
There remained, if I was to help Miss Emily, to discover what had
occurred in those dark hours when the books were taken out and something
else substituted.

The total result of my conversation that afternoon on the front porch of
the small frame house on a side street with the night telephone-operator
was additional mystery.

I was not prepared for it. I had anticipated resentment and possibly
insolence. But I had not expected to find fright. Yet the girl was
undeniably frightened. I had hardly told her the object of my visit
before I realized that she was in a state of almost panic.

"You can understand how I feel," I said. "I have no desire to report the
matter, of course. But some one has been calling the house repeatedly at
night, listening until I reply, and then hanging up the receiver. It is
not accidental. It has happened too often."

"I'm not supposed to give out information about calls."

"But--just think a moment," I went on. "Suppose some one is planning to
rob the house, and using this method of finding out if we are there or
not?"

"I don't remember anything about the calls you are talking about," she
parried, without looking at me. "As busy as I am--"

"Nonsense," I put in, "you know perfectly well what I am