n."

The hall, with the two chairs and the table, on which a kitchen lamp
with a half-inch of oil in it was standing, gave no sign of recent
habitation. Carmichael glanced around him and hurried up the stairway
to the bedroom. A tall four-poster stood in one corner, with a
coverlet apparently hiding a mattress and some pillows. A
dressing-table stood against the wall, and in the middle of the floor
there were a few chairs. A half-open closet door showed a pile of
yellow linen. The daylight sifted dimly into the room through the
cracks of the shutters.

"Scudder," said Carmichael, "I want you to look around carefully and
tell me whether you see any signs of any one having been here lately."

The old man stared, and turned his eyes slowly about the room. Then he
shook his head.

"Can't say as I do. Looks pretty much as it did when me and my wife
breshed it up in October. Ye see it's kinder clean fer an old
house--not much dust from the road here. That linen and that bed's bin
here sence I c'n remember. Them burnt logs mus' be left over from old
Jedge Gordon's time. He died in here. But what's the matter, doc'? Ye
think tramps or burglers----"

"No," said Carmichael, "but what would you say if I told you that I
was called here last night to see a patient, and that the patient was
the Miss Jean Gordon of whom you have just told me?"

"What d'ye mean?" said the old man, gaping. Then he gazed at the
doctor pityingly, and shook his head. "I know ye ain't a drinkin' man,
doc', so I wouldn't say nothin'. But I guess ye bin dreamin'. Why,
las' time Miss Jean writ to me--her name's Mortimer now, and her
husband's a kinder Barrin or some sorter furrin noble,--she was in
Paris, not mor'n two weeks ago! Said she was dyin' to come back to the
ol' place agin, but she wa'n't none too well, and didn't guess she c'd
manage it. Ef ye said ye seen her here las' night--why--well, I'd jest
think ye'd bin dreamin'. P'raps ye're a little under the weather--bin
workin' too hard?"

"I never was better, Scudder, but sometimes curious notions come to
me. I wanted to see how you would take this one. Now we'll go
downstairs again."

The old man laughed, but doubtfully, as if he was still puzzled by the
talk, and they descended the creaking, dusty stairs. Carmichael
turned at once into the dining-room.

The rubbish was still in the fireplace, the chairs ranged along the
wall. There were no dishes on the long table; but at the head of it
t