As the card went around, I think both the detective and I watched for

any possible effect it might have, but, beyond perplexity, there seemed

to be none.

"Richfield!" Gertrude exclaimed. "Why, Elm Street is the main street;

don't you remember, Halsey?"

"Lucien Wallace!" Halsey said. "That is the child Stewart spoke of at

the inquest."

Warner, with his mechanic's instinct, had reached for the key. What he

said was not a surprise.

"Yale lock," he said. "Probably a key to the east entry."

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There was no reason why Thomas, an old and trusted servant, should not

have had a key to that particular door, although the servants' entry

was in the west wing. But I had not known of this key, and it opened

up a new field of conjecture. Just now, however, there were many

things to be attended to, and, leaving Warner with the body, we all

went back to the house. Mr. Jamieson walked with me, while Halsey and

Gertrude followed.

"I suppose I shall have to notify the Armstrongs," I said. "They will

know if Thomas had any people and how to reach them. Of course, I

expect to defray the expenses of the funeral, but his relatives must be

found. What do you think frightened him, Mr. Jamieson?"

"It is hard to say," he replied slowly, "but I think we may be certain

it was fright, and that he was hiding from something. I am sorry in

more than one way: I have always believed that Thomas knew something,

or suspected something, that he would not tell. Do you know hour much

money there was in that worn-out wallet of his? Nearly a hundred

dollars! Almost two months' wages--and yet those darkies seldom have a

penny. Well--what Thomas knew will be buried with him."

Halsey suggested that the grounds be searched, but Mr. Jamieson vetoed

the suggestion.

"You would find nothing," he said. "A person clever enough to get into

Sunnyside and tear a hole in the wall, while I watched down-stairs, is

not to be found by going around the shrubbery with a lantern."

With the death of Thomas, I felt that a climax had come in affairs at

Sunnyside. The night that followed was quiet enough. Halsey watched at

the foot of the staircase, and a complicated system of bolts on the

other doors seemed to be effectual.

Once in the night I wakened and thought I heard the tapping again. But

all was quiet, and I had reached the stage where I refused to be

disturbed for minor occurrences.

The Armstrongs were notified of Thomas' death, and I had my first

interview with Doctor Walker as a result. He came up early the next

morning, just as we finished breakfast, in a professional looking car

with a black hood. I found him striding up and down the living-room,

and, in spite of my preconceived dislike, I had to admit that the man

was presentable. A big fellow he was, tall and dark, as Gertrude had

said, smooth-shaven and erect, with prominent features and a square

jaw. He was painfully spruce in his appearance, and his manner was

almost obtrusively polite.




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