f God.
They were property, at so much an acre. He loved money, Miss Innes.
He offered up everything to his golden calf. Not power, not ambition,
was his fetish: it was money." Then he dropped his pulpit manner, and,
turning to me with his engaging smile: "In spite of all this luxury,"
he said, "the country people here have a saying that Mr. Paul Armstrong
could sit on a dollar and see all around it. Unlike the summer people,
he gave neither to the poor nor to the church. He loved money for its
own sake."

"And there are no pockets in shrouds!" I said cynically.

I sent him home in the car, with a bunch of hot-house roses for his
wife, and he was quite overwhelmed. As for me, I had a generous glow
that was cheap at the price of a church carpet. I received less
gratification--and less gratitude--when I presented the new silver
communion set to St. Barnabas.

I had a great many things to think about in those days. I made out a
list of questions and possible answers, but I seemed only to be working
around in a circle. I always ended where I began. The list was
something like this:

Who had entered the house the night before the murder?

Thomas claimed it was Mr. Bailey, whom he had seen on the foot-path,
and who owned the pearl cuff-link.

Why did Arnold Armstrong come back after he had left the house the
night he was killed?

No answer. Was it on the mission Louise had mentioned?

Who admitted him?

Gertrude said she had locked the east entry. There was no key on the
dead man or in the door. He must have been admitted from within.

Who had been locked in the clothes chute?

Some one unfamiliar with the house, evidently. Only two people missing
from the household, Rosie and Gertrude. Rosie had been at the lodge.
Therefore--but was it Gertrude? Might it not have been the mysterious
intruder again?

Who had accosted Rosie on the drive?

Again--perhaps the nightly visitor. It seemed more likely some one who
suspected a secret at the lodge. Was Louise under surveillance?

Who had passed Louise on the circular staircase?

Could it have been Thomas? The key to the east entry made this a
possibility. But why was he there, if it were indeed he?

Who had made the hole in the trunk-room wall?

It was not vandalism. It had been done quietly, and with deliberate
purpose. If I had only known how to read the purpose of that gaping
aperture what I might have saved in anxiety and mental strain!