The next morning Bates placed a letter postmarked

Cincinnati at my plate. I opened and read it aloud to

Larry:

On Board the Heloise December 25, 1901.

John Glenarm, Esq.,

Glenarm House,

Annandale, Wabana Co., Indiana:

DEAR SIR-I have just learned from what I believe to

be a trustworthy source that you have already violated

the terms of the agreement under which you entered into

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residence on the property near Annandale, known as

Glenarm House. The provisions of the will of John Marshall

Glenarm are plain and unequivocal, as you undoubtedly

understood when you accepted them, and your absence,

not only from the estate itself, but from Wabana

County, violates beyond question your right to inherit.

I, as executor, therefore demand that you at once vacate

said property, leaving it in as good condition as when

received by you. Very truly yours,

Arthur Pickering,

Executor of the Estate of John Marshall Glenarm.

"Very truly the devil's," growled Larry, snapping

his cigarette case viciously.

"How did he find out?" I asked lamely, but my heart

sank like lead. Had Marian Devereux told him! How

else could he know?

"Probably from the stars,-the whole universe undoubtedly

saw you skipping off to meet your lady-love.

Bah, these women!"

"Tut! They don't all marry the sons of brewers,"

I retorted. "You assured me once, while your affair

with that Irish girl was on, that the short upper lip

made Heaven seem possible, but unnecessary; then the

next thing I knew she had shaken you for the bloated

masher. Take that for your impertinence. But perhaps

it was Bates?"

I did not wait for an answer. I was not in a mood

for reflection or nice distinctions. The man came in

just then with a fresh plate of toast.

"Bates, Mr. Pickering has learned that I was away

from the house on the night of the attack, and I'm ordered

off for having broken my agreement to stay here.

How do you suppose he heard of it so promptly?"

"From Morgan, quite possibly. I have a letter from

Mr. Pickering myself this morning. Just a moment,

sir."

He placed before me a note bearing the same date as

my own. It was a sharp rebuke of Bates for his failure

to report my absence, and he was ordered to prepare to

leave on the first of February. "Close your accounts at

the shopkeepers' and I will audit your bills on my arrival."

The tone was peremptory and contemptuous. Bates

had failed to satisfy Pickering and was flung off like a

smoked-out cigar.

"How much had he allowed you for expenses, Bates?"

He met my gaze imperturbably.

"He paid me fifty dollars a month as wages, sir, and

I was allowed seventy-five for other expenses."

"But you didn't buy English pheasants and champagne

on that allowance!"

He was carrying away the coffee tray and his eyes

wandered to the windows.




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