Then we walked back to the house together. As we approached it, I was startled to see a shadow flit across the kitchen blind.

"She mustn't go down there again," I said, and flung open the door.

Lucy Kingdon was standing with her hand on the k.n.o.b of the door which led to the cellar. She started around at my entrance, and stared at me, but I saw no light of recognition in her eyes.

"Don't go down there," I said gently. "You'd better lie down again."

She permitted me to lead her back to the couch without protest or resistance.

"Try to rest," I said. "There's nothing you can do. You must be strong for to-morrow."

She lay down as obediently as a child, and closed her eyes. Her lips moved for a moment; but at last I was relieved to note by her regular breathing that she had apparently fallen asleep.

I returned to the dining-room and closed the door between, so that the light and noise might not disturb her.

"Here t'ey are!" cried the patrolman, who had stationed himself at the outer door, and I heard a wagon rattle up in front of the house.

Then half a dozen policemen came pouring into the yard, headed by a man with grey hair and heavy black moustache, whom I saw to be the chief. He stopped for a moment to listen to the story the patrolman had to tell, then he turned sharply to me.

"Of course you'll have to explain your presence here," he began.

"My name's Lester; if you doubt it, here's my card," I said, cutting him short. "Mr. G.o.dfrey and I suspected something was wrong here. We looked into it and found much more than we bargained for."

"Who's Mr. G.o.dfrey?"

"The man who sent your patrolman here."

"How did you get so dirty?"

"Uncovering the dead man in the cellar."

"And your hand seems to be wounded."

"Yes; Harriet Kingdon shot me before she hanged herself."

"She discovered you in the cellar?"

"Yes."

He looked at me a moment longer without speaking.

"It's hardly probable," I added, "that if my friend and I had been guilty of any crime, he'd have stopped to warn the police, and I'd have waited here for you to come and take me."

"That's true," he a.s.sented; "but I don't quite see what your business was here."

"My friend's a reporter on the New York Record," I explained.

"Oh, a reporter!" he repeated, instantly drawing the inference which I hoped he would. "That explains it. But, of course, Mr. Lester, you, as a lawyer, know that you had no right to enter a house in that way. It was your duty to inform the police."

"There are emergencies," I protested, "in which one must take affairs into one's own hands."

"I admit that; but whether this was one of them--"

"Doesn't it look as if it was?" I asked.

"Well, that's not for me to decide. I understand you're staying at the Sheridan?"

"Yes-at least, I was staying there yesterday. I gave up my room, not knowing that I'd need it again. I'm about dead for sleep."

He pondered for a moment, looking at my card.

"How do I know this is really your name?" he asked.

"You don't know it," I retorted, growing suddenly impatient. "But I'll have a dozen people down from New York to identify me, if you doubt it. Meanwhile, let me go to bed."

"All right," he said, pocketing the card with sudden decision. "But it will have to be under guard. I don't want to place you under arrest, but at the same time I can't run the risk of letting you get away. You've no objection to the company of an officer?"

"None whatever, if he'll only let me sleep."

"All right. But you'd better have that hand dressed before you turn in. We brought a doctor along on the off-chance of needing him. Suppose you let him look at it."

"Thank you," I a.s.sented, and the doctor was summoned.

"It's not in the least serious," he a.s.sured me, after a moment's examination, and the wound was soon washed and bandaged.

"That feels better," I said, as he pressed the last strip of plaster into place. "Now I'm ready for bed."

"Sherman," said the chief to one of his men, "go with this gentleman. Don't let him out of your sight till you hear from me. Let him go to bed, if he wants to, and don't disturb him; but if he tries to escape, stop him if you have to shoot him."

I did my best to repress a smile, and succeeded in turning it into a yawn. After all, there was no need to offend these fellows unnecessarily, and the chief was undoubtedly right in thinking me not entirely clear of suspicion. So Sherman and I went down the street together, in the grey light of the dawn-the second consecutive one that I had witnessed-and we rather astonished the night clerk at the Sheridan by mounting together to the room which was a.s.signed to me. My guardian sat down against the door, after a.s.suring himself that escape by the window was impossible. As for me, I tumbled into bed as quickly as I could and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

I was awakened by some one roughly shaking me. I protested, fought against it, but in vain. At last I opened my eyes, and saw that my persecutor was G.o.dfrey.

"Come, Lester," he said, "you've been sleeping ten hours. It's time you were turning out."

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. Then suddenly I remembered.

"Where's my jailer?" I asked, looking at the empty chair by the door.

"Oh, I cleared all that up. I didn't realise at first how suspicious our actions might seem, and how hard it would be to explain them."

"It was lucky I didn't have to spend the night in jail," I laughed. "Are those my trousers?"

"Yes; I had them cleaned-and they needed it. I had a hard time getting my special off-the operator took me for a tramp-and no wonder."

"Were you in time?"

"Oh, yes; and a lovely scoop it was. The town's full of special men, now, trying to work up the story."