There was food for thought in what he said. He had

taken punishment in defense of my property-the crack

on his head was undeniable-and I could not abuse

him or question his veracity with any grace; not, at

least, without time for investigation and study. However,

I ventured to ask him one question.

"If you were guessing, shouldn't you think it quite

likely that Morgan was the other man?"

He met my gaze squarely.

"I think it wholly possible, Mr. Glenarm."

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"And the man who helped you-who in the devil was

he?"

"Bless me, I don't know. He disappeared. I'd like

mightily to see him again."

"Humph! Now you'd better do something for your

head. I'll summon the village doctor if you say so."

"No; thank you, sir. I'll take care of it myself."

"And now we'll keep quiet about this. Don't mention

it or discuss it with any one."

"Certainly not, sir."

He rose, and staggered a little, but crossed to the

broad mantel-shelf in the great chimney-breast, rested

his arm upon it for a moment, passed his hand over the

dark wood with a sort of caress, then bent his eyes upon

the floor littered with books and drawings and papers

torn from the cabinets and all splashed with tallow and

wax from the candles. The daylight had increased until

the havoc wrought by the night's visitors was fully apparent.

The marauders had made a sorry mess of the

room, and I thought Bates' lip quivered as he saw the

wreck.

"It would have been a blow to Mr. Glenarm; the room

was his pride,-his pride, sir."

He went out toward the kitchen, and I ran up stairs

to my own room. I cursed the folly that had led me to

leave my window open, for undoubtedly Morgan and

his new ally, St. Agatha's gardener, had taken advantage

of it to enter the house. Quite likely, too, they had

observed my absence, and this would undoubtedly be

communicated to Pickering. I threw open my door

and started back with an exclamation of amazement.

Standing at my chiffonnier, between two windows,

was a man, clad in a bath-gown-my own, I saw with

fury-his back to me, the razor at his face, placidly

shaving himself.

Without turning he addressed me, quite coolly and

casually, as though his being there was the most natural

thing in the world.

"Good morning, Mr. Glenarm! Rather damaging

evidence, that costume. I suppose it's the custom of the

country for gentlemen in evening clothes to go out by

the window and return by the door. You might think

the other way round preferable."

"Larry!" I shouted.

"Jack!"

"Kick that door shut and lock it," he commanded, in

a sharp, severe tone that I remembered well-and just

now welcomed-in him.

"How, why and when-?"

"Never mind about me. I'm here-thrown the enemy

off for a few days; and you give me lessons in current

history first, while I climb into my armor. Pray pardon

the informality-"




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