Then, turning to the library windows, I saw Bates,

with a candle held above his head, peering about.

"Hello, Bates," I called cheerfully. "I just got home

and stepped out to see if the moon had risen. I don't

believe I know where to look for it in this country."

He began lighting the tapers with his usual deliberation.

"It's a trifle early, I think, sir. About seven o'clock,

I should say, was the hour, Mr. Glenarm."

There was, of course, no doubt whatever that Bates

had been one of the men I heard in my room. It was

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wholly possible that he had been compelled to assist in

some lawless act against his will; but why, if he had

been forced into aiding a criminal, should he not invoke

my own aid to protect himself? I kicked the logs in the

fireplace impatiently in my uncertainty. The man slowly

lighted the many candles in the great apartment.

He was certainly a deep one, and his case grew more

puzzling as I studied it in relation to the rifle-shot of

the night before, his collision with Morgan in the wood,

which I had witnessed; and now the house itself had

been invaded by some one with his connivance. The

shot through the refectory window might have been innocent

enough; but these other matters in connection

with it could hardly be brushed aside.

Bates lighted me to the stairway, and said as I passed

him: "There's a baked ham for dinner. I should call it extra

delicate, Mr. Glenarm. I suppose there's no change

in the dinner hour, sir?"

"Certainly not," I said with asperity; for I am not a

person to inaugurate a dinner hour one day and change

it the next. Bates wished to make conversation,-the

sure sign of a guilty conscience in a servant,-and I was

not disposed to encourage him.

I closed the doors carefully and began a thorough

examination of both the sitting-room and the little bed-chamber.

I was quite sure that my own effects could

not have attracted the two men who had taken advantage

of my absence to visit my quarters. Bates had

helped unpack my trunk and undoubtedly knew every

item of my simple wardrobe. I threw open the doors

of the three closets in the rooms and found them all in

the good order established by Bates. He had carried my

trunks and bags to a store-room, so that everything I

owned must have passed under his eye. My money even,

the remnant of my fortune that I had drawn from the

New York bank, I had placed carelessly enough in the

drawer of a chiffonnier otherwise piled with collars. It

took but a moment to satisfy myself that this had not

been touched. And, to be sure, a hammer was not necessary

to open a drawer that had, from its appearance,

never been locked. The game was deeper than I had

imagined; I had scratched the crust without result, and

my wits were busy with speculations as I changed my

clothes, pausing frequently to examine the furniture,

even the bricks on the hearth.




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