went up a narrow circular staircase.
Halsey had pointed it out with delight.

"Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The architect that
put up this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold Armstrong and his
friends could sit here and play cards all night and stumble up to bed
in the early morning, without having the family send in a police call."

Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the lights.
I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the veranda, and
examined the windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a little less
nervous now, had just pointed out to me the disgracefully dusty
condition of the hard-wood floor, when suddenly the lights went out.
We waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright, or she would
have screamed. And then I clutched her by the arm and pointed to one
of the windows opening on the porch. The sudden change threw the
window into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figure
standing close, peering in. As I looked it darted across the veranda
and out of sight in the darkness.

CHAPTER II

A LINK CUFF-BUTTON

Liddy's knees seemed to give away under her. Without a sound she sank
down, leaving me staring at the window in petrified amazement. Liddy
began to moan under her breath, and in my excitement I reached down and
shook her.

"Stop it," I whispered. "It's only a woman--maybe a maid of the
Armstrongs'. Get up and help me find the door." She groaned again.
"Very well," I said, "then I'll have to leave you here. I'm going."

She moved at that, and, holding to my sleeve, we felt our way, with
numerous collisions, to the billiard-room, and from there to the
drawing-room. The lights came on then, and, with the long French
windows unshuttered, I had a creepy feeling that each one sheltered a
peering face. In fact, in the light of what happened afterward, I am
pretty certain we were under surveillance during the entire ghostly
evening. We hurried over the rest of the locking-up and got upstairs
as quickly as we could. I left the lights all on, and our footsteps
echoed cavernously. Liddy had a stiff neck the next morning, from
looking back over her shoulder, and she refused to go to bed.

"Let me stay in your dressing-room, Miss Rachel," she begged. "If you
don't, I'll sit in the hall outside the door. I'm not going to be
murdered with my eyes shut."

"If you're going to be murdered," I retorted, "it won't