ul publicity.

Mr. Jamieson shut his note-book with a snap, and thanked us.

"I have an idea," he said, apropos of nothing at all, "that at any rate
the ghost is laid here. Whatever the rappings have been--and the
colored man says they began when the family went west three months
ago--they are likely to stop now."

Which shows how much he knew about it. The ghost was not laid: with
the murder of Arnold Armstrong he, or it, only seemed to take on fresh
vigor.

Mr. Jamieson left then, and when Gertrude had gone up-stairs, as she
did at once, I sat and thought over what I had just heard. Her
engagement, once so engrossing a matter, paled now beside the
significance of her story. If Halsey and Jack Bailey had left before
the crime, how came Halsey's revolver in the tulip bed? What was the
mysterious cause of their sudden flight? What had Gertrude left in the
billiard-room? What was the significance of the cuff-link, and where
was it?

CHAPTER VI

IN THE EAST CORRIDOR

When the detective left he enjoined absolute secrecy on everybody in
the household. The Greenwood Club promised the same thing, and as
there are no Sunday afternoon papers, the murder was not publicly known
until Monday. The coroner himself notified the Armstrong family
lawyer, and early in the afternoon he came out. I had not seen Mr.
Jamieson since morning, but I knew he had been interrogating the
servants. Gertrude was locked in her room with a headache, and I had
luncheon alone.

Mr. Harton, the lawyer, was a little, thin man, and he looked as if he
did not relish his business that day.

"This is very unfortunate, Miss Innes," he said, after we had shaken
hands. "Most unfortunate--and mysterious. With the father and mother
in the west, I find everything devolves on me; and, as you can
understand, it is an unpleasant duty."

"No doubt," I said absently. "Mr. Harton, I am going to ask you some
questions, and I hope you will answer them. I feel that I am entitled
to some knowledge, because I and my family are just now in a most
ambiguous position."

I don't know whether he understood me or not: he took of his glasses
and wiped them.

"I shall be very happy," he said with old-fashioned courtesy.

"Thank you. Mr. Harton, did Mr. Arnold Armstrong know that Sunnyside
had been rented?"

"I think--yes, he did. In fact, I myself told him about it."

"And he knew who the tenants were?"

"Yes."

"He had not been living with t