At three o'clock in the morning I was roused by a revolver shot. The

sound seemed to come from just outside my door. For a moment I could

not move. Then--I heard Gertrude stirring in her room, and the next

moment she had thrown open the connecting door.

"O Aunt Ray! Aunt Ray!" she cried hysterically. "Some one has been

killed, killed!"

"Thieves," I said shortly. "Thank goodness, there are some men in the

house to-night." I was getting into my slippers and a bath-robe, and

Gertrude with shaking hands was lighting a lamp. Then we opened the

door into the hall, where, crowded on the upper landing of the stairs,

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the maids, white-faced and trembling, were peering down, headed by

Liddy. I was greeted by a series of low screams and questions, and I

tried to quiet them.

Gertrude had dropped on a chair and sat there limp and shivering.

I went at once across the hall to Halsey's room and knocked; then I

pushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been occupied!

"He must be in Mr. Bailey's room," I said excitedly, and followed by

Liddy, we went there. Like Halsey's, it had not been occupied!

Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against the door for

support.

"They have been killed!" she gasped. Then she caught me by the arm and

dragged me toward the stairs. "They may only be hurt, and we must find

them," she said, her eyes dilated with excitement.

I don't remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember expecting

every moment to be killed. The cook was at the telephone up-stairs,

calling the Greenwood Club, and Liddy was behind me, afraid to come and

not daring to stay behind. We found the living-room and the

drawing-room undisturbed. Somehow I felt that whatever we found would

be in the card-room or on the staircase, and nothing but the fear that

Halsey was in danger drove me on; with every step my knees seemed to

give way under me. Gertrude was ahead and in the card-room she

stopped, holding her candle high. Then she pointed silently to the

doorway into the hall beyond. Huddled there on the floor, face down,

with his arms extended, was a man.

Gertrude ran forward with a gasping sob. "Jack," she cried, "oh, Jack!"

Liddy had run, screaming, and the two of us were there alone. It was

Gertrude who turned him over, finally, until we could see his white

face, and then she drew a deep breath and dropped limply to her knees.

It was the body of a man, a gentleman, in a dinner coat and white

waistcoat, stained now with blood--the body of a man I had never seen

before.




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