." Rand got out Goode's letter and handed it to Nelda.

She read it carefully. "I see." She seemed greatly relieved; she was
looking at Rand, now, as she was accustomed to look at men, particularly
handsome six-footers who were broad across the shoulders and narrow at
the hips and resembled King Charles II. She was probably wondering if
Rand was equal to Old Rowley in another important respect. "I didn't
understand ... I thought...." A dirty look, aimed at Gladys, explained
what she had thought. Then her glance fell on the bottle and siphon on
the table beside Geraldine's chair, and she changed the subject by
inquiring if Colonel Rand mightn't like a drink.

"Well, let's go up to the gunroom," Gladys suggested. "We can have our
drink up there, while Colonel Rand's looking at the pistols.... Coming
with us, Geraldine?"

Geraldine rose, not too steadily, her glass still in her hand, and took
Rand's left arm. Gladys, seeing Nelda moving in on the detective's right,
took his other arm. Nelda was barely successful in suppressing a look of
murderous anger. The double doorway into the hall was just wide enough
for Rand and his two flankers to pass through; Nelda had to fall in a
couple of paces rear of center, and wasn't able to come up into line
until they were in the hall upstairs.

"There's the gunroom." Gladys pointed. "And that's your room, over
there." As she spoke, Walters came out of the doorway she had indicated.

"Your bags are unpacked, sir," he reported. Then he told Rand where he
would find his things, and where the bath was.

There was a brief discussion of drinks. The butler received his
instructions and went down the stairway; Rand broke up the feminine
formation around him and ushered the ladies ahead of him into the
gunroom.

It was much as he remembered it from his visit of two years before.
There was a desk in one corner, and back of it a short workbench and
tool-cabinet. There was a long table in the middle of the room, its top
covered with green baize, upon which many flat rectangular boxes of
hardwood rested--some walnut, some rosewood, some quartered oak. Each
would contain a pistol or pair of pistols, with cleaning and loading
tools. In the corner farthest from the desk, he saw the head of the
spiral stairway from the library below, mentioned by Gladys Fleming.
There were ashstands and a couple of cocktail-tables, and a number of
chairs, and the old maple cobbler's bench on which Lane Fleming ha