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6.GAGS.
He watched the hand. It whirled


THE BLUE CIRCLE
A NOVEL
BY
ELIZABETH JORDAN
Author of “THE GIRL IN THE MIRROR,"
"WINGS OF YOUTH,” etc., etc.

NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1922


Copyright, 1922, by
THE CENTURY Co.
COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY
THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY
PRINTED IN
U. S. A.


TO
FLORENCE REIMANN
WITH GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION





PAGE
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I20
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I A Man Cast Down . . . . . . . 3
II ALONG COMES VERITY . . . . . . .
III Renshaw Has A PREMONITION . . .
IV WE-WEE . . . . . . . . .
V LEONI. . . . . . . . . . .
VI Hart FORMS A THEORY. .
VII THE THING . . . . . . . . . .
VIII RENSHAW Asks A QUESTION
IX Miss DAISY . . . . . . . . . . 135
X TEA FOR THREE . . . . . . . . . 152
XI THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS
XII A MESSAGE . . . . . . . . . . 181
XIII THE VIRGIL . . . . . .
XIV RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE . . .
XV DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS
XVI THE CLOSED Door . . . . . . . .
XVII BLACK HOURS . . . .
XVIII THE SEARCH . . . . . . . . . . 275
XIX A LITTLE SOUVENIR . . . . . . . . 296
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
ILTON
XX John R. HamilTON . . . . . . . 305
XXI A TÊTE-À-TÊTE . . . . . . . . . 318
XXII FOUR OF A KIND . . . . . . . . . 332
XXIII His Own Man . . . . . . . . . 350





THE BLUE CIRCLE





THE BLUE CIRCLE
an.
that Renshaw was to be his new employee did not
disturb the young man. Campbell would know that
soon enough. In the meantime there was the place
to be looked over. Possibly he, Renshaw, would
not like the place in which case, of course, he need
not present himself to its owner. Until he had set-
tled that vital point he need not attend to the shoes,
either. Time enough for such exertion if he de-
cided to go in.
He took off his hat, however, and, leaning lan-
guidly against a stone pillar of the wide gateway,
let the late October breeze cool his head. It was a
strikingly well-shaped head, obviously capable of
more interior work than its owner was now requir-
ing of it, and it was covered with thick dark hair
which revealed a wave that brushing and clipping
failed to subdue. In the past a large amount of
brushing and clipping had been devoted to the effort.
Of late, however, Renshaw had lost interest in the
matter, as in most other matters. For two years he
had stood outside of himself, watching the undi-
rected course of his existence. Life and the wave
had had their way with him.
He turned now upon the driveway leading to the
old red-brick house before him a pair of eyes that
matched his hair in color. They were very dark
brown eyes, almost black. Nature, in giving them


A MAN CAST DOWN
to him, had shown characteristic indifference to the
sufferings of women. But it was long since Ren-
shaw had turned those eyes on women-or, in-
deed, on anything else—with other than the re-
mote expression that had become habitual to
them.
With this expression he surveyed the two rows
of maple-trees that guarded the driveway, like lines
of footmen in gorgeous livery separating to permit
visitors to pass. Once he would have glorified in na-
ture's autumnal flamboyance—in the flaming torches
of the maples, the dark plumes of neighboring
poplars, the massed brilliance of asters and golden-
rod in the hedges he had passed, the acrid fragrance
of burning autumn leaves which drifted to his
nostrils from near-by fields. To-day he had not
even observed these things. He had been conscious
only of the weight of his traveling-case, of the dust
of country roads, of an increase in the physical and
mental lassitude he wore as garments, of an absorb-
ing self-pity.
But he really must look at the place. Yes, he
must. He must decide whether or not he was going
into that house to see David Campbell and work for
him. He lashed his will to the task, and his will,
like an unwilling horse, shied and side-stepped. He
forced it to the effort. He would look at the house,


THE BLUE CIRCLE
anyway—and then, an inner voice again suggested,
perhaps he wouldn't have to go in.
It was late in the afternoon, and the autumnal
twilight fell while he stood there, hesitating. In
the dim windows of the house, set so far back
among the oaks and maples that many of its outlines
were lost to the observer in the road, lights began
to twinkle, like smiles in tired eyes. There was
something very soothing in the sight. It suggested
rest. With a long sigh, Renshaw replaced his hat,
casually dusted his shoes on the grass of the road-
side, and picked up the traveling-bag. He had de-
cided to remain and work for David Campbell.
He made his way up the avenue, sagging a little
under the weight of the case, and, gratefully drop-
ping the latter on the broad veranda with which an
architect unbound by tradition had embellished the
front of the Colonial dwelling, he again hesitated,
with his finger on the button of the electric bell. To
press that button meant to reënter life. If he
pressed it, and some one came, he would be
committed to an interview, to explanations, to the
carrying out of a plan—the first plan he had formed
in two years. It had been very hard to make that
plan—it would be nothing short of grilling to carry
it through. Yet there was only one alternative-
and this alternative his sick soul sometimes ap-


A MAN CAST DOWN
proached, sometimes rejected, but always abysmally
abhorred. The memory of it now steadied his
nerves. He pressed the button.
As he did so he picked up the suit-case, in
confiding expectation of immediate entrance. But
there was a delay; four, five, at least six minutes
passed without response. Apparently the Campbell
servants were not especially well trained. Or, as
this was the tea hour, possibly there were other
guests and the butler was busy. The reflection that
there might be other guests sent Renshaw back
across the veranda; but, even as his instinctive re-
treat began, it was checked by the sound of approach-
ing footsteps. The door opened, and a man servant
stood outlined against the light of the inner hall.
He was tall, straight, neat, round-faced, and vacu-
ous. Though he was still in the thirties, he appeared
to have reached the summit of his ambitions. He
exuded complacency as he stared past the caller's
profile with exactly the degree of human detachment
that is the highest ideal of his kind.
“Is Mr. Campbell at home?” Renshaw was fum-
bling for his card.
"I will inquire, sir.”
"If you please.” Renshaw handed him the card
and crossed the threshold into the hall. The serv-
ant hesitated a fraction of a second, while his
bling for.ampbell at hof his kind
TV-


8
THE BLUE CIRCLE
glance touched and slipped past the traveling-bag.
He closed the door, leaving the case where it lay.
"If you will sit here a moment, sir—”.
His manner was entirely correct, yet it subtly
conveyed to Renshaw the impression that the man
had not accepted him, that, though he had crossed
the actual threshold of Tawno Ker, he was still
waiting on its door-step. He nodded and seated
himself on a carved settle that stood at the right of
the entrance. The servant disappeared through a
door opening into a room on the same side of the
hall. Almost immediately he returned, the subtle
atmosphere of his disapproval slightly intensified.
“Mr. Campbell is not at home, sir,” he formally
reported.
Renshaw nodded. “Of course he is n't. I for-
got to send in my letter of introduction with my
card. Stupid of me."
He drew the letter from his pocket and handed
it over. “Give him that,” he directed. A certain
pride in him, that rallied in any association with
other human beings, led to an automatic correctness
of speech and manner that was the result of early
years of habit. His attitude toward the butler was
exactly what it should have been, though every in-
stinct in him rejoiced in the respite he was offered
and urged immediate flight.


A MAN CAST DOWN
- 9
Again a faint hesitation obscured the perfection
of the butler's manner, as a light mist momentarily
dims a view. For an instant his eyes met the
caller's and the two wills clashed. Renshaw's head
jerked forward in the nod that once had been a
command. The servant slowly turned away with
the letter, and then, quickening his steps, again dis-
appeared through the door at the right of the hall.
This time his absence was longer. Five minutes
passed before Renshaw was conscious of his un-
obtrusive return.
“Mr. Campbell will see you, sir,” he reported.
Renshaw rose, nodding toward the right-hand
door.
“In that room?"
“Yes, sir.”
"All right. Bring my bag into the house, please,
and leave it here in the hall.”
The man obeyed, and Renshaw walked into the
big room where the master of the house awaited
him. It was a comfortable room, even a beautiful
one. Its walls were lined with books with special,
much-handled bindings. Its deep chairs were the
sort one sank into with an inner sigh of comfort.
Its rugs were dim-toned and exquisite examples of
the ancient art of the Orient from which they came.
At its far end logs blazed in a huge bricked fireplace,


10 THE BLUE CIRCLE
and in front of the fire an old man sat alone.
Renshaw, walking toward him across the long
room, had time to realize that he was a very old
man indeed, and so small and thin that he seemed
almost lost in the recesses of his big chair. He
had time also to trace a resemblance that immedi-
ately struck him. In repose David Campbell looked
surprisingly like Leo the Thirteenth. A narrow
chaplet of white hair outlined the shape of his fine
head. The skin of his delicate, ascetic face was
colorless; but as the visitor came close to him he
turned up to the young man the sudden gaze of
a pair of eyes so blue and keen that the latter was
almost startled. Simultaneously he held out a
shrunken hand, and as he spoke the resemblance to
the great Italian faded, leaving in the big chair
merely a quaint little old gentleman, wholly
American, with a charming manner and a worldly
smile.
"You will forgive me for not getting up, Mr.
Renshaw," he said, in a voice that seemed much
younger than its owner. "I'm not moving about
in a very sprightly fashion these days, but I am
glad to see any one who comes to me from my friend
Doctor Stanley. Will you draw that chair a little
closer and sit down facing me, please? I don't
hear quite so well as I used to."


A MAN CAST DOWN
II
Renshaw released the hand he had been holding
as its owner spoke, and obeyed his instructions. He
felt a sentiment for the old man, sudden and to him
surprising. It was more than interest. It was al-
most liking. Possibly it was merely a response to
the unusual degree of personal magnetism that
Campbell undoubtedly possessed. He settled com-
fortably into the soft depths of his chair, and fixed
his dark eyes on the face of his host with an emo-
tion that was almost satisfaction. This plan of his
seemed to be a good one. He did not speak, how-
ever, and under his steady but oddly detached gaze
Campbell grew restless. Mechanically the old man
unfolded the letter of introduction he had been hold-
ing in his left hand, and cleared his throat.
"This letter,” he began, "is dated to-day. You
have just come from town and from Doctor Stan-
ley?"
“Yes, sir.”
"He has n't been here to see me for a fortnight,”
Campbell grumbled. “Of course I know he's busy,
but he might find time for his patient, if not for
his old friend. Stanley and I were young together,
you know.”
“Yes, sir. He told me that."
The familiar lassitude was attacking Renshaw's
will, like a creeping paralysis. He had got this far,


12
THE BLUE CIRCLE
and apparently the effort had exhausted him. The
thought of the impending interview filled him with
a kind of horror. If only Campbell would take the
situation in hand and settle everything! But Camp-
bell did nothing of the sort, because Campbell had
as yet no notion of what the situation was.
“Stanley 's got the advantage of me by about
eight years," Campbell was saying. “And he's
kept himself in fine condition—the lucky old dog!"
He waited, but his visitor said nothing. The
host decided that this was a young man who had
no intention of wasting time in generalities. That
being so, they would come at once to the point-
whatever the point was. He leaned back and
smiled at his caller. It was his most engaging
smile, gracious and whimsical—a smile that illu-
mined his delicate old face like a light from within.
Under its charm the set lips of the visitor slightly
relaxed, but he did not return the smile. With
Renshaw, smiling was a lost art.
"Doctor Stanley tells me you have a proposition
to make to me—a rather unusual and startling one,”
the host began comfortably. “He asks me to give
it the most careful consideration.”
“Yes, sir."
This was a difficult young man—although an ex-
tremely good-looking one. Campbell lost the de-


A MAN CAST DOWN 13
tails of line and color that would have charmed
women. What he took in, with an unconscious
sigh of envy, was the chap's splendid physique. Six
feet at least, he told himself, and superbly made.
The fellow was young, too, probably not much more
than thirty, and, despite his odd lack of response,
obviously a thoroughbred. David Campbell liked
thoroughbreds, being a thoroughbred himself.
Again he waited for the younger man to speak, and
the beautiful old room seemed to wait, too-taking
on a deeper silence in the long pause. Renshaw's
somber gaze had fixed itself on a door behind the
host, but not more than eight feet away. He was
trying to lash his will to the task before him; but
again it shied, and, as he looked, his ears caught
a sound that gave him a legitimate excuse for delay.
The sound was like the rustle of stiff linen gar-
ments. Some one was on the other side of the door.
His attention caught and held, he waited, expect-
ing to see the door open. Campbell, hearing noth-
ing, bit his lip. This was a difficult fellow!
"I am ready to listen to your proposition,” he
said, more concisely than he had yet spoken.
“Thank you.” Renshaw replied almost absently,
his eyes, with a quickened expression, still on the
door he was facing. “But what I have to say is
confidential. If you will permit me”.


14
THE BLUE CIRCLE
He was on his feet as he spoke, and in three
strides had reached the door and opened it. As he
did so he experienced a sense of chagrin. The door
led into a side corridor, wide and empty. No one
was there, though it was possible that he had caught
the flutter of a white garment disappearing around
a corner. He returned to his chair, looking and
feeling rather sheepish. In a way, however, the
little incident had steadied him by diverting his
mind from himself. His host was regarding him
with courteous surprise.
"I want to be sure we are not overheard,"
Renshaw explained as he sat down again. “You
see, my proposition is so unusual"
Campbell nodded. “You may feel quite safe,"
he said. “No one in the house could have any
reason for listening to us, even if we had any one
here who-ah-did that kind of thing."
Again he wished this young man would come to
the point; and now, as if in response to the
telepathic command, the caller did so, taking the
moment as if it were a hurdle.
"The truth is, sir," he blurted out, "I-have come
here to ask you to buy me!”.
Campbell leaned forward.
"'I beg your pardon,” he said apologetically, "but


A MAN CAST DOWN
15
:
I shall have to ask you to speak very distinctly. Of
late my hearing—'
"I have come here, Mr. Campbell,” Renshaw re-
peated, slowly and clearly, “to ask you to buy me!"
The old man, who was still bending toward him
with a look of almost strained attention, relaxed in
his chair and smiled. It was a courteous smile, but
a weary one, the smile of a man constrained by
good breeding to accept a dull jest. He shook his
head.
“And now," he invited, "let us get to the point."
“That is the point.” Renshaw spoke with an
apathetic flatness of tone. He was struggling with
a tremendous temptation to get up and get out; to
drop the whole business; to take the other way,
which, for the moment at least, seemed the easier
way.
“Will you—ah—elucidate?”
Campbell was watching him closely. In his heart
he half believed he was dealing with a madman; and
yet surely Dick Stanley, his old friend and physician,
would not have sent him a madman to deal with.
However, what explanation save madness could
there be of this amazing request, unless there were
some sort of practical joke involved ?—and, what-
ever else this fellow looked like, he did not suggest


16
THE BLUE CIRCLE
is
a practical joker. With a slight prickling of his
scalp, the old man played for time. Possibly some
one would come in. Yes, of course; it was the hour
Jenks brought the tea. He stretched his hand
toward an electric button on a table near him, but
Renshaw stopped him with a gesture. He had read
his host's thoughts.
"It sounds rather weird, I know," he said apolo-
getically, “but Doctor Stanley warned you it was
unusual. He knows all about my plan and highly
approves of it.”
“Dick approves of my-my buying you?" Camp-
bell was puzzled, unconvinced, annoyed, and still a
bit apprehensive.
“Yes, sir. And, if you don't mind postponing
for a moment the interruption of tea, I should like
to explain.”
The other's waiting hand dropped.
"I wish you would,” he said almost fretfully.
"And of course we will wait for tea,” he forced
himself to add.
"Mr. Campbell, I don't expect you to take in the
thing all at once, but the facts are these.” Renshaw
had begun almost glibly, because he had rehearsed
his opening speech. Now he stopped, as if uncertain
how to proceed.


A MAN CAST DOWN
17
"Yes?" prompted his hearer. Renshaw drew a
deep breath.
“Two years ago,” he said, “I had an unusual
experience—a terrible shock. I will not trouble you
with the details; in fact, I could not discuss them.
The result is what I am talking about. The
experience knocked me out completely for a year.
The second year I was able to crawl around, in lead-
ing-strings, as it were. Now I am well, or almost
well—but there is still one thing I can't face.
Stanley tells me it's my last obsession, and that it
will pass as soon as I get into a normal way of liv-
ing. However that may be, it has got me now.”
He brought out the last words between set teeth.
"What is it?" Campbell asked the question very
gently.
“A fear of the responsibility for my own life and
self-support, a fear that amounts to a nightmare.”
“What? I beg your pardon, but I am never quite
sure I am hearing things correctly,” the old man
interrupted.
"A horror of the responsibility for my self-
support,” Renshaw almost fiercely repeated. "I
can't endure it. If I have to face it in the half-
baked state I am in now, I shall never get well. I
know that. If, on the other hand, some one else


18
THE BLUE CIRCLE
will be responsible for me a year longer, I am begin-
ning to believe that, with the start I've got, I can be
cured. But—I've got to be owned and supported
by another. I've got to be a bondman. I've got
to be as irresponsible and dependent as a slave, do-
ing as I'm told and absolutely assured of a living."
David Campbell shook his head. He was still
puzzled, but he felt he was beginning to understand.
The poor chap needed humoring.
"My dear fellow," he began soothingly, "surely
there are sanatoriums where you can have every
care
"
"I've been in them; I have had every care.
That's just the point. I am ready for the next
step. The doctors have turned me out. They say
I am well but don't know it. They say I will never
know it as long as I remain in institutions. I must
live a normal life. I must have work. And I can
work."
He was rushing on now because he was afraid
that if he stopped he would lose all the impetus he
had gained.
"I can work like a steam-engine if you put me
at it. They all admit that. And it's good, stiff,
intelligent work, too. There's nothing the matter
with my brain, Mr. Campbell; don't imagine that
there is. There never has been, even when things


A MAN CAST DOWN
19
were at their worst.” He dropped his head into his
hands. “But there will be,” he ended, with an
irrepressible groan, "unless, for just a little while
longer, some one else is responsible for my support.
So Doctor Stanley sent me to you. He said he was
sure I could be of great use to you—that you needed
some one”
David Campbell leaned back again in his chair,
joined the fingers of his thin hands together, and
looked past them into the fire.
“Useful? Yes, perhaps," he murmured, "if you
had merely come to me for a situation. But this
proposition- It's all very unsettling." He broke
off. “Why would n't it do to accept a situation on
salary?” he asked abruptly.
"Because if I did that I should live in terror of
losing my job. No; I've got to fix things in
another way. I've got to find a man who will take
me on in such a binding fashion that he simply can't
get rid of me."
"Humph!" Campbell stared into the flames.
The caller watched him.
"What can you do?" the old man asked at
last.
"Anything!" The word came from the caller's
lips like a bullet.
Campbell shook his head. “Anything is noth-


20
THE BLUE CIRCLE
ing," he pointed out with sudden austerity. “What
can you do, really, that is worth a salary?”.
The young man flushed.
"I can keep accounts,” he said doggedly. "I can
act as secretary and general utility man, and guard
your health. That's what Doctor Stanley espe-
cially wanted me to do," he remembered to add.
“Look after you and see that you look after your-
self. He said there were conditions just at present
that were rather trying to you. He thought there
ought to be a younger man here with you."
Campbell nodded. For the first time, he was
impressed as well as interested. Startling as Ren-
shaw's proposition had been, there must be some-
thing in it worth considering, or Stanley would not
have advocated it in the strong letter he had written.
Also, the reference to his health appealed to him.
“If it were merely a matter of engaging your
services—” he murmured discontentedly.
The other interrupted him.
"It's not that,” he pointed out. “I could not
consider for a moment the mere offer of a situation.
Please remember the vital detail that I am asking
you to buy me. For the next year I want to be
your property as absolutely as if I were a bought
slave. Also, try to remember that my obsession


A MAN CAST DOWN
21
does not impair my ability in any way. Doctor
Stanley guarantees that I can be very useful to
you if I am certain of my future for a year—if, in
a phrase, my future is off my mind.”
Campbell, his eyes still on the fire, again reflected.
One point increasingly impressed him. Possibly
this extraordinary young man could prolong his life.
Stanley seemed to think so. At the thought his keen
eyes took on a new expression. Deep in the heart
of this worn-out human mechanism, and unsuspected
by any one but his physician, burned an almost ab-
normal passion to live on.
"All this,” he said slowly, "is the most impossible
thing I've ever listened to.”
The visitor's glance dropped.
"I suppose so," he dully conceded. “I realize
how it must sound to any one else. But Doctor
Stanley understood, and he hoped you would. It
is just a form of nerve obsession, you see, sir,” he
patiently repeated, "a fear of life and of the future.
If I merely had a job I should live in a panic.
Whereas, if I were actually bought for a year, I'd
be off my own mind; don't you see?”
“And on mine," Campbell dryly commented.
"Yes, I see.”
Again the young man flushed.


22
THE BLUE CIRCLE
IUT
"It is n't as if I were useless," he muttered.
"You will find that I can work like a horse. I'll
do anything I'm told.”
"Anything?” Campbell spoke with sudden mean-
ing.
"Anything," the caller replied without hesitation.
The keen blue eyes of his host remained on his
face.
“In fiction or the drama,” he murmured thought-
fully, “the hero would qualify that remark. He
would grandiloquently protect his honor.”
"We are not in fiction or the drama," Renshaw
wearily reminded him. “And I am discussing this
matter with you, sir, not with some one casually
selected. I will put my honor into your hands as
absolutely as my life.”
The old man nodded.
"I see that you are at least in earnest,” he con-
ceded.
"It's a matter of life or death with me, Mr.
Campbell.”
Campbell hesitated.
"I might ask you to do some odd things,” he
hinted—"things you would not understand at first.
The situation here just now is a trifle-ah-abnor-
mal. And I might not be able to explain for a few
weeks certain matters not clear to a newcomer.”


A MAN CAST DOWN 23
"I rather expect that, from a remark or two that
Doctor Stanley dropped.”
“And you are sure the kind of responsibility that
attends working for another perhaps more or less
in the dark—would not worry you?" the old man
asked curiously.
"Not a bit. You see, some one else is responsible
for me, and I am certain of a bed, a roof over my
head, and enough food to fill my stomach. I am"
-his head dropped under the humiliation of the
admission—"at the end of my resources."
"Your family—" Campbell began, after a mo-
ment's silence.
"So far as I know, I have not a relative in the
world. But Doctor Stanley knows who my people
were.”
“Humph!" The word sounded ungracious; it
was merely thoughtful.
"Doctor Stanley told me you really needed a
secretary,” Renshaw went on. “He thought there
was no doubt you would give me a job, but he was
not sure that you would buy me.”
Campbell grimaced. "Oh, he was n't—was n't
he? Confound him!”
The last words broke from his lips before he could
check them. He tried to drown them in a cough,
but the visitor heard. For the third time he flushed,


24
THE BLUE CIRCLE
this time deeply and unbecomingly. Simultaneously,
as if moved by a spring, he rose.
“Mr. Campbell,” he said formally, “I hope you
will forgive me for troubling you. I realize what
an unpardonable nuisance I have been and how wild
my scheme must have sounded to you. A doctor,
of course, would understand. Very few laymen
could. I am grateful for the time you have given
me, and I will not take any more of it. Good
night.”
He held out his hand, and the somber veil on his
face lifted a trifle. After all, this would settle
things and he would not have to plan again!
“Good night,” he repeated, and, dropping the hand
the other man had mechanically extended, turned
to go.
"Wait a minute. Don't be in such a hurry!"
Campbell's voice was almost peevish. He strug-
gled up from his chair, slowly and with much
difficulty, till he stood facing his caller. His slight
figure was unexpectedly tall, but his brilliant eyes
were far below the somber level of his visitor's. He
looked at the latter with a new expression in them.
He had liked this young man's valedictory.
"Wait a minute,” he repeated, in a different tone.
“Do I understand you to say that Stanley actually
approves of this mad notion of yours?”


A MAN CAST DOWN
25
"Yes, sir. He thinks I would be very useful to
you. He repeated that again and again. I think
so, too,” Renshaw sedately added.
"How much salary do you want? I mean,"
Campbell corrected himself before the other could
speak, but dropped his serious tone, “—what price
are you asking for this—ah—purchase you sug-
gest?”
"Anything you choose. Fix the price yourself,
and pay it in monthly instalments if you like, or at
the end of the year."
Renshaw spoke indifferently, and the dark veil
that had temporarily lifted from his face again
settled there. So it was n't over, after all, he was
reflecting.
"Three hundred dollars, payable in twelve
monthly instalments of twenty-five dollars each?”
Campbell watched him closely as he spoke, but
the caller's expression did not change.
"Anything you choose," repeated the latter. "The
only important detail is that you make yourself
responsible for my support for a year—as absolutely
responsible,” he repeated, "as if I were your prop-
erty."
"We will say twenty-four hundred dollars,” the
old man amended without explanation. “Will that
do?"


26
THE BLUE CIRCLE
“Yes, sir.”
The voice and manner of the visitor were as un-
responsive as before.
“When do you want to begin?”.
"Now—this minute.”
“Oh! Then you came prepared to stay?”
“Yes, sir."
Campbell digested this in silence. “Would you
like a contract?” he asked at last.
"No, sir. A contract of this sort would not be
legal, of course. Besides, it is unnecessary. We
will consider this a gentlemen's agreement.”
“Very well.” Campbell held out his hand.
“Now, if you have no deep-rooted objections to tea,
we will drink some,” he added as he slowly settled
back into the big chair. “And I, for one, am ready
for it! Buying a man, if you will permit me to
say so, is rather an exhausting business.”
He rang the bell as he spoke, and the complacent
personality of the servant who had admitted Ren-
shaw promptly injected itself into the room.
"Jenks,” said his master, “bring tea, and tell Miss
Campbell when it is here. And by the way,
Jenks—” He stopped the man on his way to the
door, and turned to Renshaw. “Did you bring any
luggage?”
"A bag. It is in the hall."


A MAN CAST DOWN 27
Campbell spoke to the butler:
“Take it up to the north room. Mr. Renshaw.
who is my new secretary, will use that room-un-
less, after he has tried it, he prefers another.”
Jenks left the room. He had not spoken, and he
did not glance at Renshaw; but to the young man
every line of his erect figure conveyed an august
disapproval. In a few minutes he was back in
stately association with a tea-wagon, which he rolled
up to the fire. Simultaneously the door from the
hall reopened and a girl came in. Catching sight of
her as she entered, Renshaw rose, and as she made
the journey toward him down the long room his
eyes watched her, first with their usual detachment,
then with an impersonal interest.
She was young, not much more than twenty-two,
he decided, and very lovely. Her hair was jet-
black and her eyes were darker than his own, but
soft and holding an unexpected expression of
melancholy. Yet every line of her face and figure
showed pride and spirit, and she walked with the
gait of a young empress. She came directly to the
side of the old man, kissed the top of his head with
precision, and turned her unsmiling eyes on the
visitor as he was presented.
“Verity, my dear," Campbell was saying, “this is
Mr. Renshaw, who is going to look after my cor-


28
THE BLUE CIRCLE
respondence, and see that I get to bed at ten, and
rule me generally with a rod of iron. But I warn
you, Renshaw, that my granddaughter will hardly
tolerate another tyrant in the house. To order me
about is her pet privilege.”
Renshaw, bowing silently before the girl, met for
an instant the direct regard of her proud eyes, and
in that instant realized that she did not like him.
He accepted the discovery with indifference. The
liking or disliking of others was unimportant.
But, as he took the cup of tea she poured for him,
he unexpectedly met the gaze of another pair of
eyes—and the expression of these he could not so
casually dismiss from his mind. They were the
eyes of Jenks, the butler, and they held a message
that was as clear as it was unpleasant—a message
of intense and open antagonism.
While Campbell chatted with his granddaughter,
tossing an occasional sentence to his new property,
John Renshaw stared into the tea he was absently
stirring. The attitude of others toward himself
concerned him very little nowadays, but he was con-
scious of a slight curiosity. In his normal past
many human beings had liked him, and a few had
disliked him. But, as far as he knew, none had
repudiated him at the first encounter so warmly and


A MAN CAST DOWN 29
so obviously as Miss Verity Campbell and her butler
had just done.
Why had they repudiated him?
The answer to the question was not obvious.
Still stirring his tea, and lending half an ear to his
new owner's conversation, Renshaw continued to
consider the problem. He could not find the solu-
tion. But one conclusion, at least, his mind reached
and accepted. His year in Tawno Ker was not
stretching before him as the peace-filled vista he had
so resolutely held up to his imagination when he was
laboriously evolving his plan.


CHAPTER II
ALONG COMES VERITY
“MR. RENSHAW !"
Tea was over, and Jenks, again inperturb-
able, had trundled away the tea-wagon as tenderly
as if it held the family's heir. As it was going,
Campbell struggled out of his deep chair and, stand-
ing with his straight old back to the fire, addressed
his new property with suave directness. Renshaw
shied like a frightened horse, and none of the three
pairs of eyes watching him missed the movement.
Campbell experienced a sense of revolt, shot through
with irritation against his old friend and physician.
"Confound it, how can this fellow be of any use
to me, when he's nervous as a cat?” he reflected.
“It's going to be an infernal nuisance to have to
consider him as if he were a high-strung prima
donna."
But, even as the thought went through his mind,
the new secretary had recovered his poise and was
on his feet, obviously ready for instructions.
30


A MAN CAST DOWN 31
"Probably you would like to go up to your room
now," Campbell went on, in the suave voice that
was so much younger than his years, "to unpack
and rest after your journey. Jenks will show you
the way. We dine at eight,” he added, as the
young man followed the butler, who had stopped
at the sound of his name.
When the door closed upon the two, Campbell
drew a long breath of relief.
"My dear,” he fervently ejaculated, “I am begin-
ning to think it will be almost worth while to have
that fellow around for the sake of the frequent
rapture of getting rid of him.”
Verity's black eyebrows rose a trifle, but she
did not lift her eyes from the handkerchief on
which she was embroidering her grandfather's
initials.
"Why did you engage him, if you did n't want
him?" she asked.
"Stanley wished him on me. The whole episode
is an amazing piece of folly, and I am afraid I don't
show up in it any better than Stanley and Renshaw,"
her grandfather confessed, with growing irritation.
He described his interview with Renshaw, while
Verity's expression, incredulous at first, changed to
one of deepening interest and perplexity.
"You don't imagine there is something back of


32 THE BLUE CIRCLE
it?” she slowly suggested. “An effort to get into
the house and—”
"No, no!” her grandfather testily interrupted.
:“The last two years of the man's time are fully
accounted for. He has been in sanatoriums, poor
chap. Besides, Stanley knows all about him."
Nevertheless, he brooded for an instant over the
suggestion. “No, it's nothing like that,” he added,
more buoyantly. "He's what he represents himself
to be. The Lord knows, it is n't the sort of rôle a
big, upstanding fellow like Renshaw would assume,
if he could help it.”
"I wonder what happened to him?" Verity spoke
almost under her breath, her imagination circling
among various dark possibilities of which she had
heard and read.
The old man shook his head.
"I haven't an idea. What I want to know is,
what's going to happen to me under this absurd
arrangement? I can't imagine why I let myself in
for it. For a second or two I thought I saw a way
of making him useful, but I don't believe it will
work out—” He broke off. “I suppose the fellow
has some magnetism,” he ended.
"Not a particle." Verity spoke •with conviction.
“In fact, it's the other way around. There's some-
thing almost repellent in him, something a little-


ALONG COMES VERITY
33
oh, what is the word? Well, something unhuman.
He is unusually handsome, of course; there's even
a certain nobility about his head and face. And
yet, he's like a ghost. Yes, that 's what I am trying
to get at,” she added, with quiet satisfaction. "He
looks at us as the dead might look if they came
back—as if he had passed through existences and
experiences we could never understand and could
not even dream of.”
“No doubt he has,” the old man conceded. “He
affects me like a human draft. But we must not
let our imaginations run away with us. If he is too
depressing, we will get rid of him; I 'll ship him off
and make him useful somewhere else. He's got to
do what I tell him and go where I send him."
He brightened as this way of escape occurred to
him, and his relief was so obvious that Verity
laughed out. At the sound he brightened still more.
Verity's contralto laugh was a beautiful thing to
hear, but almost as rare as it was beautiful. He
cackled in sympathy, and the cackle revealed the age
his speaking voice concealed. It was high, almost
senile.
“Then that 's all right," he went on comfortably;
"and now let's forget the fellow and go on with
that book you were reading.”


34
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Upstairs, in the chamber to which Campbell had
sent him, Renshaw was doing some thinking of his
own. He had followed Jenks through the wide
lower hall to the Colonial staircase at its end, up
the stairs, through a large square central hall, and
into and along a narrow side corridor at the right
which ended at the "north room.”
His first impression was that it was oddly remote
from other rooms. Only one additional door
opened from the narrow corridor he had traversed.
The second reflection, as Jenks turned a knob and
stood back to let him enter his new quarters, was
that the room was very large and extremely com-
fortable. It had a generous fireplace, with waiting
logs on heavy andirons. An easy-chair, with a
table and shaded lamp beside it, suggested restful
hours of reading, smoking, and reflection. Jenks
touched an electric button and the shadowy room
flashed into soft light which brought out the details
of a mahogany bed in a far corner, facing the door,
a high-boy, a low-boy, and a large built-in wardrobe.
The room's north wall contained two windows, and
through two additional windows, very wide and with
built-in cushioned seats, he could look out on the
front grounds of Tawno Ker and follow the maple-
lined avenue leading to the highway. He was to


• ALONG COMES VERITY 35
have plenty of light and air, he reflected with con-
tent.
He went to a north window and, glancing out,
found this first impression changing. There would
be air, without doubt. But numerous oaks and
maples crowded close to the house—so close, indeed,
that an athlete such as Renshaw had once been
could leap from a window into the wide-spreading
branches of at least one venerable tree. The trees
were rather unexpectedly thick in front, too, he dis-
covered, and he was surprisingly far from the
ground. He would be almost among the tree-tops
if he leaned far out of the windows on the front side
of his room.
A suggestive crackle turned him back to the
room. Jenks, on his knees before the fireplace, was
applying a match to the waiting kindling. A thread
of flame reconnoitered lazily and decided to spread.
The dry wood snapped in response. Discovering
that he had Renshaw's attention, Jenks rose, dusted
his hands by slapping them together, and, walking
away, threw open the door of a second room in
which could be seen the outline of a shower
apparatus and the nickel and porcelain fittings of
a bath-tub.
"The bath-room is very small, sir," the man


36 THE BLUE CIRCLE
apologetically explained, "and there's no window in.
it. It was made two years ago, out of a big closet.
But you will be quite comfortable. And you will
always find extra linen in the closet just outside
your door, in the corridor. That closet is the mate
to this one."
As he spoke he turned the hot- and cold-water
faucets, and the tub began to fill. Also, he flashed
on the electric lights in the tiny bath-room, proving
that his apology for its size was justified. It was
a long and narrow space, originally merely a gen-
erous closet, and only wide enough for the tub and
plumbing appliances. The door that opened into it
almost touched the side of the tub.
Renshaw returned to the bedroom and its blaz-
ing fire. He found that Jenks had lifted the heavy
traveling-case to a small trunk-stand and was un-
fastening the straps.
"I'll attend to that, thanks,” he said, with a ges-
ture of dismissal.
Jenks looked surprised.
"Don't you want me to unpack, sir?" he asked
stolidly, stopping his work, but not rising from his
bending position.
"No; I'll do that.”
Jenks straightened up.
“Very well, sir.” He turned to go. "Shall I


ALONG COMES VERITY 37
come back at half-past seven and help you to dress?"
“No, thanks; I 'll get along."
Jenks hesitated.
"Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Campbell regards it as
a part of my duty to assist any gentlemen guests of
his—and I shall be very glad to do anything I can,
sir."
“That's all right, but I'm not a gentleman guest.
I'm here to stay, and I prefer to look out for my-
self. So I won't trouble you.”
Renshaw spoke pleasantly, but he was feeling
puzzled. Standing by the fireplace with his elbow
on the mantel and his detached glance drifting past
the man's face, he wondered, without much interest,
why the creature was so suddenly friendly. An
hour ago he had been furiously resentful of the new-
comer's presence. Now he seemed all eagerness and
deference. His face showed a disappointment
amounting to chagrin as he turned toward the door.
“Very well, sir," he said, and, as if on a sudden
memory, hurried into the little bath-room, tested
the water, stopped its flow, and again made his way
to the door. There he paused.
"Are you planning to have breakfast up here,
sir ?” he respectfully inquired.
"Good Lord, no!"
Renshaw spoke with sudden irritation. Why the


38
THE BLUE CIRCLE
devil was the fellow so persistent? Was it merely
because he realized that the open betrayal of his
antagonism had been unwise? Or was it—the
thought stood stolidly at the entrance of the sec-
retary's mind until he finally permitted the unwel-
come visitor to enter—was it because Jenks knew
that this newcomer was so infernally dependent on
others that even at this moment every instinct in
him was calling out for assistance?
What he wanted was to have Jenks wait on him
—that was the cold truth. His dislike of the man
had nothing to do with the matter. He would have
accepted help from anybody, and Jenks, being pres-
ent, was the obvious person to render it. He wanted
Jeaks to unpack his traveling-case. He wanted
him to get his evening clothes ready. He wanted
him to lay out towels and soap and attend to all the
other duties that had been performed in the ex-
pensive sanatorium which had swallowed Renshaw's
last dollar.
That is, part of him wanted all this. He had
again the odd sense of dual consciousness which he
had experienced so often of late—as if he were two
men, one a weakling, the other at least a critic of
that weakling and strong enough at blessed intervals
to conquer him.
It was the realization of the rebirth in him of


ALONG COMES VERITY 39
this second man that kept Renshaw's thoughts away
from the alternative that at one time had been so
much in his mind. It was the second man who
had brought him to this house and made him old
Campbell's slave, in the hope that through that
slavery he might work his way into freedom. It
was the second man who spoke now:
“What's your name?"
“Jenks, sir."
“Well, Jenks, there's exactly one thing you can
do."
“Yes, sir.” The man's tone was eager.
“Get out, please, and be quick about it!"
Jenks got out. His surface dignity was unim-
paired, but the door closed on his exit with a tem-
peramental snap.
Left alone, Renshaw dropped into the easy-chair
before the exuberantly blazing fire, and rested his
head against its padded back with a sigh of exhaus-
tion. He was tired—tired to the soul; but from
the darkness of that soul the hermit-thrush of hope
sent out a solitary note. He had put through the
Plan. He had won that little contest of wills with
Jenks, and had given no outward sign of the effort
it cost him. Now he would rest. Of course he
ought to be unpacking, bathing, dressing for dinner.
He would do all those things later. His present


40
THE BLUE CIRCLE
duty was to relax—to let the atmosphere of the old
house sink into him.
How absurd he had been to imagine things about
Jenks and Miss Campbell! Jenks was merely a
spoiled servant, impersonally resenting any new-
comer, and already contrite over his mistake and
anxious to make amends. The only point of in-
terest about Jenks was that he had not succeeded
in discovering Renshaw's weakness and in tempting
him too far.
As to the girl, that lovely girl with the jet-black
hair and the proud and perfect mouth, she was
afraid that he, Renshaw, was going to be a nui-
sance. The human beings in Tawno Ker, thrown
together as closely as they were,—the solitude of
the place suddenly impressed him; surely it was
miles from any neighbor !—those humans must form
a close corporation. It was not to be wondered at
that they should resent an intrusion like his. Never-
theless, he was almost glad he had intruded. It was
going to be comfortable here, possibly even peaceful
and soothing—just what he needed. He held and
considered a lingering mental picture of Verity and
her grandfather as he had seem them in the beau-
tiful, acquiescent room that was so fitting a back-
ground for those two.
A small log, blazing on the andirons, parted and


ALONG COMES VERITY 41
dropped with a rattle and a shower of sparks. Ren-
shaw did not hear it. The door opened an inch,
and some one peered at him through the crack. He
did not hear the sound it made as it opened and
closed. He was in a condition of well-being, new-
found and vastly comforting—at peace, relaxed,
and at last drifting out on the blessed sea of sleep.


CHAPTER III
RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION
I TE was awakened by the sound of a gong,
I mellow but extremely penetrating, obviously
a dinner or dressing gong designed to be heard
throughout the big house. He sat up with a spectac-
ular start, and glanced at the clock on the mantel
above him. It was half-past seven. He had slept
uninterruptedly for more than an hour, an expe-
rience still novel enough to be gratifying. He had
only thirty minutes in which to unpack, bathe, and
dress for dinner. At another time the reflection
would have disturbed him, with its suggestion of
needed haste. Now, after his hour of sleep, he
acted briskly. As he cast a last glance in the mirror
before he went down-stairs, he was mildly surprised
by the agreeable normality of the being who looked
back at him. The fellow seemed at least reconciled
to life. Yes, this job might do what the second
man in him had predicted.
Another reflection followed the first, and was far
42


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 43
less agreeable. He wondered if Campbell had told
his granddaughter the peculiar relation in which he,
Renshaw, had entered the family. That he should
give this detail a thought was surprising. That he
should have the moment's concern that now followed
it was nothing short of amazing. He was actually
hoping that the girl did not know, that old Camp-
bell had not told her!
The reflection, though vivid in its little instant of
life, perished almost as soon as it was born. What
difference did it make what the girl or any one else
knew or thought? He turned off the lights, opened
his door, and strode out into the hall.
In the past few months he had realized that he
must correct the slouching gait and dropped head
he had permitted himself in the sanatorium. He
must at least look and act as others did, however
unwilling he was to take the trouble. He walked
toward the staircase with a swing of his broad
shoulders, and as he did so his eyes widened.
Again, as in the corridor down-stairs, he caught
around a corner the flutter of a disappearing bit of
white stuff—a natural enough phenomenon in any
house, he reflected, and interesting only because of
the impression of flight it conveyed. His attention
to the incident was fleeting. Evidently Campbell's
servants were a curious lot, and the arrival of a


44 THE BLUE CIRCLE
stranger in this isolated house was to them an event
out of all proportion to its importance. Though
he had seen only Jenks, there must be at least half
a dozen men and women needed to keep up such a
place— possibly more. As he descended the stair-
case he speculated for the first time on the size of
the family circle. It was improbable that Camp-
bell and his granddaughter comprised it. There
must be others.
He entered the living-room at exactly one minute
before eight, and as he opened the door felt behind
him the figure of Jenks, coming to announce dinner.
Campbell and his granddaughter were already in the
room, the latter before a grand piano, which Ren-
shaw, in his abstraction, had not observed during
his first visit. The girl had been playing or sing-
ing, he assumed, though he had heard no music.
Now, seated sidewise on the piano-stool, she was
absently turning the sheets on the music-rack and
lending an ear to the monologue of an old lady who
sat with Campbell before the fireplace. Her resem-
blance to him placed her as the old man's sister,
but she had entered the world ten or twelve years
later. Like Verity, she was in full evening dress.
She wore a superb diamond-and-pearl collar; and
half a dozen diamond, sapphire, and emerald rings
relentlessly called attention to the enlarged joints


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 45
of her fingers. Her white hair was as elaborately
waved and puffed as if she were going to a ball.
As Renshaw went toward her he heard the conclu-
sion of her monologue, delivered on a high-pitched,
plaintive key and without the slightest pause :
"Of course you will belittle the matter, Davy as
you always do but I've told you before and I tell
you again that your habit of leaving so many de-
tails to the servants will eventually drive us out of
house and home as to the way they act some of
them did n't get in till after twelve last night though
where they could have been is more than I know
unless James drove them to town in the service car
which Verity has expressly forbidden him to do
without permission but they never pay any atten-
tion to what one says anyway so what is the use of
giving them orders—”.
Old David Campbell raised a thin hand.
“One moment, Kitty," he said good-humoredly.
"Let me present my new secretary, Mr. Renshaw.
Renshaw, this lady is my sister, Mrs. Pardee, and
she's got more troubles than any one you ever met
before. She'll tell them all to you, too; you may
be sure of that.”
He chuckled over his own joke, while Renshaw
bowed over the wrinkled hand that lay in his own.
“Well I'm sure I'm very glad to meet him,"
SS


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 47.
There was spaciousness in all the rooms of the old
house, and a beauty of furnishing for which the
somewhat confused architecture of the exterior had
not prepared one. Evidently, Campbell was fond
of open fires. A fire blazed here, too, in a fire-
place at the room's far end. Four high-backed and
· carved Florentine chairs waited for their occupants
at the round table, whose tall orange candles, aided
by the firelight, gave the big room its sole illumina-
tion.
Renshaw began to feel very much as if he were
in a dream. In the mood in which he had
approached Campbell that afternoon he would have
agreed to clean out furnaces and work around the
grounds. As it was, he stood committed to any
task he was offered, however menial. Yet here he
was, an intimate part of a charming group, seated
at the right of old Mrs. Pardee, and with the beauty
of Verity Campbell opposite him on which to feed
his eyes. He acknowledged the beauty, but let his
eyes drift past it. It was there, but it had no mes-
sage for him. He gave courteous attention to Mrs.
Pardee, whose plaintive voice babbled in his ears
as incessantly and almost as meaninglessly as the
gurgle of a mountain stream.
Once, looking across the table, he suddenly met
Verity's eyes and for an instant held them. There


48
THE BLUE CIRCLE
was a momentary dancing light in them-like a
flicker of sunshine on the surface of a dark pool.
Also, the corners of her mouth quivered in a half-
smile, which passed even as it came. The phenom-
enon interested him. He gazed at her with grave
intentness until a restless movement of hers made
him realize what he was doing and turn his eyes
away. Mercifully he was spared overhearing the
comment Verity made to her grandfather a little
later under cover of the continued babble of Mrs.
Pardee.
"I think your bondman is going to cheer us up,"
she murmured.
"Cheer us! That young monument to gloom!"
The old man shook his head. "I'm afraid he's
going to get horribly on our nerves."
"No, he won't. Whenever we feel depressed,
all we shall have to do will be to think of his ex-
pression as he listens to Auntie. Look at it
now!"
David Campbell looked, gulped, and hurriedly
swallowed a glass of water.
"If that's the way he looks when Kate talks,"
he murmured confidentially, “I wonder how he 'll
look when he gets his first orders from me. He
may discover that there 's more than he has planned
for in this bargain sale of his.”


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 49
He raised his voice and addressed the new sec-
retary.
"I want to mention while I think of it, Renshaw,"
he said, "that there's a billiard-room and gymna-
sium on the third floor, just above your room. I
fitted it up for myself a few years ago, when I
found that I was to be. largely house-bound; but I
don't use it half so much as I ought to since I've
had these rheumatic bouts. Perhaps we can do a
little work together,” he added hopefully. "I used
to box a bit when I was younger.”
A sensation of sardonic amusement swept over
Renshaw as he contemplated a mental picture in
which he defended himself against the onslaughts
of this octogenarian; but his expression, on which
the old man kept his keen blue gaze, did not change.
“I have n't boxed for several years," he said
indifferently; "but I used to give a lot of time to
it. I can pick it up again."
Campbell nodded and changed the subject. He
experienced anew the sensation that this acquisition
of his had already too frequently supplied, though
their association was so brief-an emotion of
mingled admiration and resentment, unusual and
unsettling. To banish it, he turned to Verity.
"Is Madame Hvoeslef having one of her sick
head-aches ?"


50
THE BLUE CIRCLE
al.
"Yes, poor dear."
Renshaw pricked up his ears. There was still
another member of the family, then, or a guest.
Whoever she was, Miss Campbell liked her. The
modulations of the girl's voice on the three words
she had spoken made that quite clear.
When dinner was over, Campbell led the way
back to the living-room, with some lingering hint
of resentment in the stiff lines of his shoulders, and
almost curtly commanded Verity to sing.
Renshaw heard the command with his nearest
mental approach to relief. The girl's singing would
mean nothing to him. He rather objected to sing-
ing, associating it with the efforts of well-meaning
young persons who had pursued the art and had
never overtaken it. But, at least, it would eliminate
the necessity of a general conversation and tem-
porarily check the babble of Mrs. Pardee. He
dropped into a chair in a corner near the piano,
and, though he was aware of the unwisdom of his
course, let himself sink into the black abyss that
always awaited his unguarded moments.
After all, had he done right to come here?
Had n't he, instead, added the capstone to the tower-
ing structure of his misery? For he had offered
himself, and now it was too late to retreat. He
was bought, and committed to God alone knew what


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 51
enterprise for both Stanley and Campbell had
hinted that his new life, if he entered upon it, might
hold more than the routine possibilities. Yet he
had entered upon it, blind fool that he was, and in
doing so had closed the door upon the alternative
he sometimes shrank from, sometimes longed for,
but always feared and never wholly forgot.
He pulled himself up in a sudden ascent to the
present. Something was happening to him—some-
thing as wonderful as that hour of sleep had been.
A stream of music had been flowing past him; and
now, as he began to listen, it seemed to lift him and
bear him on it to another world, a world of love and
passion and beauty. The girl was singing—and
the girl's singing was unlike any he had heard
before. What she was singing was a Russian folk-
song, whose accompaniment was like swiftly flow-
ing water. That was what had given him the sense
of being lifted up and borne on by a wave—that,
and the wonder of her contralto voice, with its
'cello tones to which his nerves vibrated as if he
himself were an instrument on which some master
hand was playing.
When she had finished, David Campbell was
asleep; but the plaintive voice of Mrs. Pardee broke
the momentary stillness :
"I do wish Verity that you 'd learn some cheerful


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 53
and the expression of her plain face was rather
dour.
"This is Annie, sir, the chambermaid. We've
been airing your room and putting in fresh
linen ”
Jenks spoke so quickly that Renshaw, who in his
abstraction would have passed the pair almost with-
out noticing them, looked at them with closer atten-
tion. It then occurred to him that the enterprise
of changing the linen in his room hardly called for
the efforts of two servants, but he did not dwell on
the thought. Also, Annie was contributing her
modest share to the verbal report.
"You will always find extra towels on the shelf
of this closet, sir,” she said primly. “I leave the
extra supply for the floor there, because there's no
place in the bath-room but the one rack.”
"And—and excuse me, sir, but there's another
thing."
Jenks was speaking again, and Annie, with fitting
humility in the presence of her superior, moved a
little to one side.
"Might I speak frankly, sir?" Jenks was almost
humble.
"Of course.” Renshaw waited with his detached
air. The man wet his lips.
"There's—there's some queer things going on


54
THE BLUE CIRCLE
in the old house, sir. If you hear odd noises dur-
ing the night, it's best to pay no attention to them."
Renshaw frowned. "Odd noises ?” he repeated.
“What kind of noises ?”
“That's all I can say, sir. And I'm exceeding
my duty, sir, in saying that much. But it's well
meant."
Renshaw nodded, his half-formed interest relax-
ing under a memory of certain sentences in his
interview with Campbell to which he had attached
no great importance at the time.
"All right, Jenks. Thank you," he said, and
passed on. As he closed his door he glanced back.
Both Jenks and Annie were standing where he had
left them, staring after him. Caught in the act,
they started down the corridor and parted at its
end, Jenks descending the staircase, the woman dis-
appearing around a distant corner. The flutter of
her skirt as she went stirred Renshaw's memory,
Surely twice before to-day he had seen the final
whisk of that skirt.
He entered his room, still slightly frowning.
Everything was in order. The fire was burning,
the electric bulbs shone softly under their amber
shades, and the bed-clothing had been neatly turned
back, ready for the night. It was all reassuringly


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 55
natural, and yet—what the deuce was there about
Jenks's manner that got on one's imagination and
made one exaggerate the importance of the simplest
trifles? Possibly there was nothing. It was Ren-
shaw's nerves—though his nerves had never troubled
him in just that way before.
He undressed slowly, but instead of going to bed
he slipped on his dressing-gown and, after turning
off the lights, sat down in the chair before the fire.
There, clasping his hands behind his head, he leaned
back and grimaced at himself. He tried to think
he was sitting here because David Campbell might
need him; but he knew better. The simple truth
was that he did not quite dare to go to bed. Under
the surface atmosphere of comfort and normality
that lay over the house, something had been injected,
something intangible but unmistakable, to which his
nerves were vibrating. Of course his imagination
was playing tricks with him. At the back of his
head was the thought of a mystery at which both
Stanley and Campbell had hinted, and which, of
course, had to do with the warning just received
from Jenks.
Something did happen-a very small thing and
not at all disturbing. It was merely the sudden
appearance on the wall facing him of a small blue


56
THE BLUE CIRCLE
circle of light. It did not dance. It did not even
move. It merely faced and regarded him, rather
like a watchful eye.
He glanced across the room, but without much
interest. Of course, he reasoned, there was some
wholly natural explanation of the circle. It was
merely a reflection for which the firelight and some
small object in the room would account. He so
turned his chair that he could not see it; but sub-
consciously he knew that it remained in its place,
and turning he verified this impression.
Very well. He would forget it. He would give
his nerves time to quiet down before he tried to
sleep. He would resolutely think of other things-
of scenes and episodes of his boyhood. But the
effort, occasionally successful in the past, did not
calm him now. He found himself waiting for
something. Deep within him was a conviction,
which grew with the moments, that something was
about to happen.
After an hour or two of this he went to bed.
Simultaneously the blue circle vanished. But sleep
was slow in coming, perhaps because of that hour
of sleep before dinner. The household must be
sleeping, he reflected, for it was now well past mid-
night. Yet he began to hear sounds in the corridor,
odd sounds, not easily explained-probably, yes,


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 57
undoubtedly, those sounds to which Jenks had
referred.
He stiffened and swore softly to himself. The
expectation that something would happen, born of
Jenks's warning, was filling him with a sick fore-
boding, was actually bringing out perspiration upon
his face. Yes, his face was damp, and through his
big body ran a sudden tremor. He ground his
teeth in self-disgust; but his brain, still his alert
and willing servant, hastened to bolster his dying
self-respect.
It was not because he was afraid of anything that
might happen to him that he sweated and trembled.
That, at least, he could truthfully claim. The worst
that could happen to him had occurred two years
ago. It was the possible call to action which made
him shake; the suggestion that what was going on,
whatever it was, might demand initiative on his
part. He reminded himself that it would not, and
this reflection brought a certain comfort. He was
not to "butt in.” His sole job now was to go to
sleep.
He lay still and listened, hoping for something
normal and reassuring, such as the sound of human
footsteps or the closing of a door. The noises in
the corridor were increasing, and if they were what
Jenks had meant he had chosen the right word for


58
THE BLUE CIRCLE
them. They were "odd” noises. That quality in
them was what had first attracted his attention.
They were not footsteps. They were, quite plainly
by this time, such sounds as might have been made
by the dragging of a heavy body along the floor,
and they were accompanied by what sounded like
the breathing of a huge, exhausted animal. Yet
an exhausted animal would hardly be dragging it-
self along the corridors of Tawno Ker at twenty
minutes past twelve o'clock at night.
Renshaw looked at the illumined dial of his
watch, ostensibly to make sure of the hour, but
really to check the slowly forming impulse to go
to his door and look out into the corridor. The
thing might be a dog, though he had been struck by
the absence of dogs from the house. It might be
-by this time his imagination was ready for any
flight, however wild-it might be a sick or insane
member of the family, housed in some distant wing
and temporarily at large. But he rejected this
theory as soon as it presented itself. That smacked
more of melodrama than of life, and melodrama
was not in his line. The words of Jenks, so close
to the surface of his consciousness since he had
heard them, repeated themselves almost as clearly
as if the correct figure of the butler still stood
beside him:


RENSHAW HAS A PREMONITION 59
“There's some queer things going on in the old
house, sir. If you hear odd noises during the
night, it's best to pay no attention to them.”
That was indefinite in itself, but definite enough
as far as he, Renshaw, was concerned. In different
words, but quite as plainly, Campbell had said the
same thing. It was not Renshaw's business to in-
vestigate odd noises at Tawno Ker. On the con-
trary, it seemed plain that he was expected to ignore
them. Everything would be explained to him in
due time, and in the interval if Campbell wished his
assistance he would ask for it. Renshaw's present
cue was discretion—which certainly did not mean
that he was expected to get out of bed and go
chasing around in drafty corridors at midnight.
His reflections having reached the gratifying con-
clusion to which he had directed them, he threw
back the bed-clothing and set his feet on the floor.
All these things being so, the fact remained that
he must see what was in that corridor. The sooner
he saw what it was, the sooner it would be off his
mind.
He sprang to the door and threw it open. But,
quick as he was, the thing outside, which had
seemed to move so cumbrously and with such effort,
was quicker. His glance swept the length of the
corridor, but this time there was not even the flut-


60
THE BLUE CIRCLE
ter of a disappearing garment to reward it. The
house was utterly still.
He shrugged his shoulders, closed the door, and
got back into bed. Before he did so he turned the
key in the lock of the door. The whole thing
might be a trick of his infernal nerves—though he
knew better. But, at least, he would have a stout
lock between himself and that corridor.


CHAPTER IV
WE-WEE
W HEN Renshaw awoke, the October day was
sending its comforting light through his
windows. He turned over and blinked drowsily.
His first sensation was one of physical well-being,
new and agreeable. His next was incredulity. He
had slept—had actually slept for hours! His third,
the companion of memory, was a slow-growing,
deep-rooted, and sardonic amusement at his own
expense.
What an ass he had been the night before! In
the light that was coyly picking out the pattern of
the Oriental rug upon the polished floor, his doubts
and forebodings about Tawno Ker scurried out of
sight like frightened chickens. He almost doubted
that he had had them. There was no question
whatever, he told himself, that he had imagined
most, if not all, of the occurrences that had dis-
turbed him. That dragging thing on the floor, for
example—


62
THE BLUE CIRCLE
He sat up, blinked again, and yawned widely.
His big room was wonderfully cheerful, and part
of its brightness, he now discovered, was due to the
coloring that still lingered on some of the maple-
trees whose branches almost touched his windows.
He got out of bed, turned on a cold bath, and made
his morning toilet with an increasing sense of ac-
quiescence in the fact of living.
Everything around him was so normal! The
sounds he now heard in the house were the footsteps
of servants, the bang of distant doors, the chopping
of wood somewhere outside-in short, all the sounds
that naturally accompany the waking and uprising
of a country household at the beginning of a
day.
As he shaved, his lips almost puckered into a
smile at the new expression of the face that con-
fronted him in his mirror. At last he had taken in
the fact, so hard to grasp the day before, that he
had cast from his shoulders the Atlas-like weight
they had been carrying. His future, for a year, was
assured. He was a being without responsibility.
In this environment, so isolated, yet so home-like
and so peaceful, he could accept his cure. At the
end of the year—for the first time he told this to
himself with entire conviction-he would be a well


WE-WEE
63
man, and would know he was! And what the deuce
was the good of being a well man if one did n't
know he was well?
He went down to breakfast with a vigor in his
steps that was not wholly assumed. At the foot of
the staircase he paused, not quite certain whether to
turn into the living-room or go on to the dining-
room. Breakfast might not be ready. He had not
remembered, the night before, to ask at what hour
it was served. As he hesitated, the complacent per-
sonality of Jenks came toward him from the rear of
the hall. Renshaw nodded.
"Good morning, Jenks. What's the breakfast-
hour here?"
"Breakfast 's on now, sir."
Jenks preceded him to the dining-room and threw
open the door, his manner as deferential as if he
were performing the service for Campbell himself.
He followed Renshaw into the room, where a young
footman the latter had not seen before was arrang-
ing chafing-dishes on the sideboard. This youth
suspended his labors, and in response to an eye-flash
from Jenks hastened to draw out a chair for the
newcomer.
As he was about to take it, Renshaw turned to
the butler.


64
THE BLUE CIRCLE
"By the way,” he said casually, "will you send.
over to the Wainley station this morning and get
my trunk?”
The immobile mask of Jenks's face was disturbed
by an expression of surprise.
“You brought a trunk, sir?"
“Of course I brought a trunk.” Renshaw seated
himself in the waiting chair. “I'd like to have it
in my room before dinner, if possible.”
"Yes, sir; certainly, sir.” Jenks was again the
perfect butler.
"We follow the English plan, sir," he observed,
with a steadfast eye on the movements of his sub-
ordinate. “The members of the family come in
when they like and help themselves from the hot
dishes on the sideboard. But if you don't find just
what you want, sir, James, here, will fetch it from
the kitchen."
Renshaw nodded again. “Thanks,” he said, and
strolled over to the row of silver dishes whose con-
tents simmered above spirit-lamps. He lifted the
lid of each in turn, finding a cereal in one, scrambled
eggs and bacon in another, and kidneys in a third.
He helped himself to eggs and bacon and returned
to the table, where James poured his coffee, lifted
the cover of the muffin-dish, and set a plate of
orange marmalade within convenient reach.


WE-WEE
65
"O spare."
all here."
coune, I
“Anything more, sir?”.
The voice and manner of James were modeled
upon those of Jenks. The peak of life toward
which James was toiling held the august and lonely
figure of his chief. It was the highest ambition of
James to become as much like Jenks as one man
could become like another by unremitting effort.
His appearance was that of a younger, more slender
Jenks.
"I'd like a newspaper, if there's one to spare.”
"Which one, sir? They're all here."
"Oh-ah-the Tribune, I guess.”
James brought it to him, folded into the most
convenient form for leisurely reading.
“Anything else, sir?”.
"Nothing, thanks. I'll help myself.”
James faded away as unobtrusively as a mist be-
fore the sun-almost as unobtrusively, therefore, as
Jenks had already faded. His manner and service
had been as perfect as those of his great model.
But, notwithstanding Renshaw's seeming absorption
in his breakfast and the news, the secretary had been
conscious of one thing: not once, while James re-
mained in the room, had the footman removed his
eyes from him. They were young eyes—round and
clear and rather boyish. They were discreet eyes,
which dropped humbly before a superior and which


66
THE BLUE CIRCLE
could not meet directly the all-seeing gaze of Jenks.
But they were observant eyes, nevertheless, and un-
doubtedly they had taken in every detail of the new
man's dress, manner, and general appearance.
Even as the reflection came to Renshaw, the
explanation came with it. Some one, probably
Annie, judging by the flutter of that telltale gar-
ment, had returned after the first alarm and listened
at the side door of the living-room when he,
Renshaw, had made his unusual proposition. That
person had overheard his entire conversation with
Campbell, and had grasped the terms under which
Renshaw had been taken on. Those terms were
sufficiently novel to intrigue any mind, and the
gossip they afforded must be nothing short of a
heaven-sent blessing to a group of servants in a
country house that was miles from anywhere.
That might explain, too, the sudden dropping of
the hostility Jenks had shown in the beginning.
When he revealed that hostility, he was unfamiliar
with the terms of Renshaw's agreement. Between
the making of the agreement and their next meeting,
Annie undoubtedly had repeated the conversation to
which she had given her polite attention, and Jenks's
resentment had been swallowed by—what? Con-
tempt? Renshaw thought not. There was no
suggestion of contempt in the service he was


WE-WEE
61
receiving. Pity? That surmise was almost more
unpleasant than the first; but Renshaw's mind
fastened on it and finally accepted it. They were
sorry for him, these servants, as almost any one
would be for a poor devil in his predicament-
The slow, burning flush that was one of the signs
of his convalescence stained his face as he gulped
down the unwelcome discovery. Until the past few
months, the impressions others formed of him had
been the least important items in the hell in which
he dwelt.
He drank the last of his coffee, glad that his
recent reflections had not crossed his mind in time
to spoil his breakfast. His appetite had improved
with his spirits, and he had eaten a surprising
amount of eggs and bacon.
Evidently the Campbells breakfasted late. It was
half after eight when he left the dining-room, and
none of the family had yet appeared. He found
his cap and overcoat in a closet at the left of the
entrance-hall, and, putting them on, went out for a
stroll in the grounds. Notwithstanding the sun-
shine, there was a November-like chill in the atmos-
phere. The front of the house offered only the thick
setting of oaks and maples he had observed the night
before, with the vista of the private road leading to
the distant highway. But there were suggestions


68
THE BLUE CIRCLE
of a big estate here—wide, unexplored spaces at the
right and left and in the rear. He followed some
of them-to fower-gardens whose sweet alyssum
and dying chrysanthemums were their sole remain-
ing blooms, to vegetable-gardens near the rear of the
house, and, finally, to the discovery of a secret walled
garden far off at the left, whose entrance was down
a flight of stone steps. It was so carefully con-
cealed that he almost missed it, for its protecting
walls were covered with ivy that hid them well, and
its entrance was obscured by a mass of shrubbery.
He descended the steps with a sensation of expect-
ancy. He liked secret gardens. They had been a
fad of his in that remote period when he had been
a living man. And this garden-he looked at it
appraisingly as he walked along its paths—this
garden, with its encircling wall, must be nothing
short of a paradise in summer. He was in the
depths of it, bending over an old sun-dial and try-
ing to make out its almost obliterated inscription,
when a small hand crept confidingly into his. He
started, then flushed and stared half resent fully, half
curiously, at the owner of the hand.
It was a very tiny owner, almost a baby. It
could not have been much more than thirty months
old. It wore a blue "bunny suit” of coat, trousers,
cap, and leggings, and the cap was drawn so far


70
THE BLUE CIRCLE
things she repeated over and over in passionate
accents her original refrain: “We-wee dump!"
"And all the poor child wants," said a voice in
critical accents, “is to be put on that sun-dial so she
can jump down."
Renshaw turned so suddenly that he almost upset
the infant, who at that instant appeared to be en-
gaged in a final impersonation of a whirling dervish.
She interrupted this to hurl herself upon the neck
of the newcomer, who fell on her knees just in time
to receive the embrace.
"Is that all she wants?” Renshaw regarded the
pair.
Miss Campbell, in a short tweed walking-skirt, a
scarlet blazer, and a tam-o'-shanter to match it, was
even lovelier in this perfect setting of her secret
garden than she had been in the glory of her war-
paint the night before.
"What else did you think she wanted ?”
Verity lifted the baby and stood her on the flat
top of the sun-dial.
"I got a general impression that it included the
earth and neighboring planets—”.
He broke off with a gasp. The young person on
the sun-dial had flung herself into space. As far
as he was concerned, she would have remained there
till she hit the solid earth, for he was stunned by the


WE-WEE
71
suddenness of the thing; but the arms of Miss
Campbell opened with accustomed precision, and the
intrepid infant landed in them with a force that
almost knocked the girl over backward.
“Great heavens!” cried Renshaw, as he caught
and steadied the victim. “Are you hurt?”.
Verity detached herself with dignity from the
grasp of his hand on her arm.
"Of course not. That's part of the game," she
patiently explained. “You don't know much about
children, do you?"
“But this sort of thing calls for a life training,"
he objected. “The double act on the flying trapeze,
with four somersaults thrown in, is nothing to it.
Don't you at least count aloud ?”
Miss Campbell was again lifting the baby to the
sun-dial.
"One has to be careful, of course,” she ad-
mitted.
The rest of the sentence was lost in the severe
physical impact that followed a second leap into
space on the part of the star performer.
"She's a peach,” Renshaw admitted, and won-
dered at himself. It was so long since he had felt
that anything human was a peach. “Who is she?"
"Tell the gentleman who you are."
Verity, again on her knees, was addressing the


72 THE BLUE CIRCLE
acrobat, and incidentally, by holding her close, dis-
couraging any further Alights till she could catch her
breath.
"We-wee,” declared the baby. “Dump."
“Now you know.” The girl smiled, not at the
young man, but at the child. Her words to him
were tossed over her shoulder as indifferently as
she might toss crumbs to a bird.
"Is that her name?”
“She thinks it is, so it will do."
"Dump,” remarked We-wee with much firmness.
“No, darling. We-wee has jumped enough for
one day.”
The modulations of Verity's voice as she spoke
were wonderfully tender and caressing. Her next
words, however, were addressed to him, and it
seemed impossible that they were uttered by the same
voice. They fell on the raw surfaces of his self-
consciousness like broken icicles.
"My grandfather asked me to give you a message,
if I happened to meet you in the grounds," she said.
"He has gone to his study, and he will be glad to see
you there at your convenience."
Renshaw thanked her, but her eyes drifted past
him as detachedly as if he were a pebble in her path.
He felt a new uprush of resentment. It was clear
that she despised him, and no doubt it was as nat-


. WE-WEE
73
ural as it was clear. But she need n't show it so
plainly! She was as hard as nails, this girl, and as
cold as stone. She was the type of girl he had
always disliked—self-sufficient, icy, and intolerant.
His eyes, as he looked at her, offered a full equiv-
alent for the expression hers had held the night
before. Without a word, he raised his cap and
turned to go.
He was checked by a sudden onslaught. The
young person named We-wee had unexpectedly
clutched him around one leg with both blue arms,
and was looking up into his face with imploring
eyes. Her position held him fast. If he moved,
We-wee must move with him.
"Not do,” urged the baby. Her gray eyes, fixed
on his, were wide with apprehension. Her lips
quivered pathetically. Her voice broke under the
tragedy of their impending separation. “Not do,"
she dolefully repeated. “Tay We-wee!"
Renshaw laughed. The laugh consisted of one
note, abrupt and unmusical, but it was the real
thing. He bent and gently detached the clinging
hands around his knee. He was touched and
pleased by this spontaneous and unexpected adop-
tion.
"Come back soon,” he explained. "Play with
We-wee then. Jump big jumps—lots of jumps !"


74
THE BLUE CIRCLE
The baby's strained expression relaxed. She
nodded. “Tum soon,” she peacefully repeated.
It was clear that by a lucky chance he had hit on
a familiar and quieting formula. He made a
mental note of it for future use. The eyes of Verity
Campbell were upon him at last. They held an
expression of unflattering surprise that rapidly
changed to their former indifference. He raised
his cap again, in a salute that included both ladies,
and strode down the path and up the garden steps
with the swing and lightness he had practised of
late.
There was some reflection of these in his spirits.
The encounter with the fascinating little beggar in
the bunny suit had added to his new sense of well-
being. The way she had taken to him was rather
nice; and the offer of that tiny hand—the third
hand that had been extended to him at Tawno Ker--
and her unwillingness to have him leave her rather
touched him.
He forgot the beautiful Miss Campbell as ab-
solutely as if she did not exist. He almost forgot
that in the study in Tawno Ker his new master
awaited him, together with his first intimation of
what his duties were to be. His steps slowed down,
and the lines of his face, already relaxed, smoothed
out still more. Into the empty foreground of his


WE-WEE
75
life a definite figure stepped, not the figure of his
master, nor the figure of that master's grand-
daughter, but an adorable little figure in a blue
bunny suit—the child who, in the new life he was
taking up, was his first friend.


CHAPTER V
LEONI
LTE found Campbell in the latter's study—a
I comfortable work-room opposite the dining-
room, at the rear of the wide central hall.
The old man greeted him pleasantly but with a
suggestion of constraint. Faced by the need of
putting his new acquisition to work, he was in-
creasingly conscious of the difficulties and embar-
rassments that might attend that effort. His sub-
conscious resentment against Stanley had grown.
His old friend, he reasoned, had let him in for a
lot of trouble and mighty little, if any, comfort.
But Renshaw's appearance was reassuring. He
brought into the room some of the bracing coldness
of the late October morning and a mental atmos-
phere that matched it. He was normal, steady-
eyed, ready for duty. His quiet greeting and his
strong clasp of the hand that Campbell mechanically
extended brought additional comfort. The old
76


78
THE BLUE CIRCLE
pencils, a note-book, and a generous supply of type-
writer sheets.
Campbell turned a somewhat apprehensive eye
upon these preparations. They seemed to require
from him an equal degree of brisk efficiency, which
he hardly felt able to supply. To impress upon
this young man his theory that, though life was
short, time was not so fleeting as it was made out
to be, he leaned back in his chair, put the tips of his
fingers together in an attitude that Renshaw soon
learned was characteristic, and appeared to reflect.
Subsequently the new secretary discovered that this
attitude usually preceded one of Campbell's half-
dozen daily "cat-naps” or his most energetic mental
efforts. The trouble was that one was never sure
which manifestation would follow it.
"You don't take shorthand notes, do you?”
Campbell inquired at last.
"No, sir. It's only by a happy chance that I
can run a typewriter. I learned it lately to—to kill
time.”
"You 'll kill a great deal of time with it here,”
Campbell prophesied, with a care-free chuckle. “I
am rather glad you don't know shorthand,” he con-
fessed. “I am not up to much dictation. I will
tell you what to say, and you will put it in your
own words.”


LEONI
79
“Very well, sir.”
Campbell, his eyes still on his thin old fingers,
abruptly began his task. Very soon he was speak-
ing so fast that Renshaw, to his chagrin, found
difficulty in keeping up with him—especially as the
other interspersed his business instructions with
numerous side remarks of a personal and highly
confidential nature. Also, he delivered the entire
monologue in a cheerful monotone and almost with-
out stops, which gave the achievement a certain
resemblance to his sister's conversational flow.
"Write to Stanley and tell him to come down for
this week-end. It is time the old fraud looked me
over. I believe he is afraid I may live longer than
he does, so he has decided to let me die of neglect.
Ask him if that theory is correct. Write to A. B.
Shattuck-you will find his address in a black book
in the left-hand drawer of the desk; in fact, you
will find all the addresses you need there, except
those I give you from letters just received. Tell
Shattuck to come and overhaul these fireplaces
again. The work he did on the fireplace in my
study is disgraceful. It has n't drawn a sober
breath since. But don't mention that, or he won't
come. Shattuck has a sensitive soul.
“Tell S. B. Miller his plumbing is a disgrace to
his profession. If we have any more trouble with


80
THE BLUE CIRCLE
those bath-rooms, I'm going to sue him. Tell the
Reverend H. B. Sheppard that I will contribute a
thousand dollars toward his project if he can get
each of nine other men to give the same amount.
I know he can, but the effort will keep him busy
for a week or two and I'll have some peace. Tell
Jarvis & Company I have not yet received their
winter catalogue. Not that I expect to buy any-
thing from them, for I have discovered that they
are dead beats; but I like to compare their prices
with the prices of their competitors.
"Tell H. C. Cohen I want him to come down
early in January and help me with my income-tax
statement. I want it off my mind. He charges a
hundred dollars and he oozes oil as he talks, but he
saved me at least ten thousand last year by showing
me my rights, though my native land is rapidly tak-
ing all I've got. Tell William Shipman his proposi-
tion does not interest me at present. It would not
interest any intelligent human being at any time,
but we 'll let him find that out. Tell my cousin, the
Reverend Percy Imboden, that I am well and am
glad he is enjoying the same great blessing. Tell
him Verity has some new Dutch tulip bulbs a friend
brought her from Holland, and she will send some
to Susan.
“Tell George Bolton I will contribute five thou-


LEONI
81
sand dollars to the Princeton fund, and advise him
to get after some of the rest as vigorously as he is
chasing me up. Three of my class-mates are still
alive, but he appears to think they 're dead. Tell
him Stanley 's more alive than I am. Tell Brown
& Robson to send a man down with samples, and I
hope they 'll show more discretion about it than they
did last spring. After all, I am a country gentle-
man and not a moving-picture advertisement for
their firm.
"Tell R. G. Hindley he can come down for the
night Thursday of next week and talk to me about
those new investments he is so enthusiastic over.
They are no good, and I would n't take his judg-
ment in the purchase of a bath-mat; but I hear from
other sources that he has got hold of something
else that's really good, though he does n't know it
yet. Got that?"
Renshaw said he had, and took advantage of the
momentary pause to wipe his brow. An early sus-
picion that his new job was to be something of a
sinecure had perished and was not reborn. It be-
came clear that the old man's correspondence was
much in arrears. He gave instructions for letter
after letter with increasing zest and rapidity. He
was like a comet swirling through space, and Ren-
shaw, in swirling after him, had a dizzy feeling


82
THE BLUE CIRCLE
that he was clinging to the comet's tail. Nothing
in Campbell's attitude up till now had prepared him
for this dynamic activity.
Twice the old man was interrupted-once by a
telephone call from his broker, with whom he had a
chat that included some fervid criticisms of the
other's advice; the second time by a telegram over
which he frowned reflectingly. At the end of two
hours of steady note-giving his voice lost its assur-
ance and took on a suggestion of the languor of a
phonograph that is running down.
“How many letters have I given you?” he asked.
Renshaw fumbled vaguely among the mass of
notes before him.
"Not more than seven or eight hundred, I should
say."
Campbell cackled.
"I deplore this modern tendency to exaggeration.
You've got just enough work for a husky young
man to do comfortably before lunch. Go to it. I
will leave you in possession of the study. But first
telegraph the offices of the Scandinavian Line and
reserve an outside state-room on the Frederick, sail-
ing November twenty-second, for-for—" he hes-
itated an instant only—“for Madame H-v-o-e-s-
l-e-f," he ended slowly, spelling out the name. “That
will be all this morning. If time hangs too heavily


LEONI
83
on your hands, I may give you some more this
afternoon."
He rose from his chair, stiffly as was his habit,
stood still an instant to give his old legs time to
accustom themselves to the effort of walking, and
then went toward the door. There, with fingers
already on the knob, he paused.
“Mr. Renshaw," he began, and stopped.
Renshaw, who had risen when he did, waited in
silence. Campbell took a step as if to cross back
to him, and Renshaw saved him the journey by
joining him at the door. The old man's manner
had completely changed. His brisk assurance was
gone. He looked and evidently felt uncomfortably
self-conscious.
“Mr. Renshaw," he began again, "our household,
as I have already told you, is in some respects-
ah-a little unusual at present. Possibly Doctor
Stanley-ah-prepared you for this fact—"
"Both Doctor Stanley and you yourself, sir, men-
tioned it,” the secretary reminded him.
"Just so. Well-ah—the point is that, as the
matter concerns others, I am not able to go into
details about it for the moment, much as I dislike
any atmosphere of secrecy. So I must count on
your discretion tomah—".
It was clear that for once David Campbell, so


84
THE BLUE CIRCLE
fluent up till now, was at a loss for words. Ren-
shaw helped him out.
"To ignore anything I don't understand?” he
suggested. “That's the idea, is n't it?”
The face of Campbell brightened, but his eyes did
not meet the young man's. It was clear that the
mystery of the household, whatever it might be, was
distasteful to the master of the household. It also
seemed clear that his predominating feeling about
it was one of annoyance and not one of anxiety or
strain.
"Exactly,” he said, with an air of relief. "Please
ignore it.”
"You may be sure that I shall do so, as far as I
can. And, in any event, I shall ask no questions.
But—Mr. Campbell—”. It was Renshaw who was
self-conscious now. His face had taken on the
deep, unbecoming flush his new master had already
seen there. “There's one point on which I should
like your instructions. Am I to understand that I
am not to report to you anything unusual I may see
or-or hear? May I assume that you know about
it?"
Campbell's self-consciousness gave place to an ex-
pression of surprise mingled with doubt.
“Do you mean that you have already heard or
seen anything unusual ?” he quickly asked.


LEONI
85
· Renshaw hesitated. Everything had been so
normal, so human, so reassuring this morning, that
the experience of the previous night, the noise of
that crawling thing in the corridor, already seemed
like a dream. Still, this, if ever, was the time to
speak.
"Nothing of much importance,” he said slowly.
“Merely—"
“Merely what?” Campbell spoke with unusual
sharpness.
“Merely some unusual noises in the hall."
"Unusual noises ? What kind of noises ?"
"Why, rather as if a very heavy weight were
being dragged along—that kind of thing.”
Renshaw spoke unwillingly. He felt, and looked,
rather foolish.
"Perhaps something was." Campbell was him-
self again, smiling his charmingly whimsical smile.
“There's a lot of work to be done in this house.
Possibly a trunk was being moved—”.
“But-it was midnight.”
Campbell raised his eyebrows. Then he laughed.
"I'm afraid we're magnifying trifles," he said
good-humoredly. “But I 'll say this much before
we drop the subject. We have no reason to fear
anything that is in the house, and personally I don't
believe we have anything to fear from outside.


LEONI
87
the dining-room a few minutes after the suminons
of the luncheon-bell, and found not only Campbell,
Verity, and Mrs. Pardee at the table, but a strange
woman seated at the right of the host. She was a
gracious and even majestic woman, with a figure of
the late forties, the snow-white hair of seventy, and
a dark face and singularly brilliant eyes that might
have been thirty-five. As a matter of record, she
was forty-two. She graciously inclined her head
when the young man was presented, but did not
speak.
Renshaw bowed and took his place in equal si-
lence. This, it appeared, was Madame Hvoeslef,
whose passage to Europe on the twenty-second he
had just engaged. He immediately decided that
she was, in some way, a central figure in the mystery
to which Campbell and Stanley had referred.
She looked the part. The most casual glance at
her showed that she had been, and possibly was
still, undergoing a severe nervous strain. She
started uncontrollably at the lightest sounds. Her
brilliant eyes held a look of anxiety that at moments
changed to fear. Studying her, one subconsciously
thought of diplomacy and intrigue, of spies, of
Nihilists, of all the rest of the horde that make for
action and movement in modern fiction and drama.
One did not, naturally, think of a heavy body


LEONI
89
another moment revealed the fact that Mrs. Pardee's
topic was the sugar shortage that followed the end
of the war. Her idea of meeting the shortage, it
appeared, was to fill the cellars of Tawno Ker with
barrels of sugar. There was space in the store-
room for an enormous supply-
Renshaw bent his head with grave attention, but
he ceased to hear her. He had returned to his own
thoughts, which, when they had their way with him,
swung him back to the words of Jenks:
"Queer things happen in the old house, sir. If
you hear anything odd—”
He set his teeth. For some reason, his mood of
peace, of acceptance, of complacent outlook, had
changed again. He was conscious of an intense
and increasing sense of uneasiness—an uneasiness
that almost took the form of a dread of the coming
night.


HART FORMS A THEORY 91
Taking this in, Renshaw puckered his lips in a
noiseless whistle, and then very slowly and stiffly
grinned. The thing he had done had been done by
that part of his brain which he had not used for
two years. The achievement was clever-really
artistic. He wondered whether Campbell would
appreciate it, and even before the thought had
shaped itself knew that he would. No one would
appreciate it more promptly or fully than Campbell.
With the finished letters in his hands, he went to
the living-room. It was almost tea-time, and he
expected to find the old man there before the fire.
He was not disappointed. Campbell was not alone,
however, and as Renshaw took in the slender figure
of Verity perched on the arm of her grandfather's
big chair, the eyes of the secretary narrowed. He
was absurdly annoyed by the presence of Miss
Campbell. His momentary self-complacency died
as he crossed the room. The two in the chair
looked up as he approached.
"I beg your pardon, sir,” he said stiffly. “But
would you like to glance over these letters before I
mail them, or shall 14"
Campbell extended his hand.
"I will look at them,” he said quickly. "Perhaps
it would be better to leave them with me half an
hour.”


92
THE BLUE CIRCLE
His last words trailed into an indistinct murmur.
His eyes were already running down the letter that
topped the pile.
“Wait a moment, please,” he added. “Hart, the
chauffeur, takes the mail to Wainley at five. Per-
haps we can rush these through- Better drink
your tea while I look over them. Verity, my dear,
please ring for Jenks.”
He was reading as he spoke. Now he handed
his granddaughter two of the letters. She took
them with an air of surprise, ran her eyes down the
typewritten lines, and smiled.
“And you said you could n't dictate !" she teased.
"I can't.”
Campbell was running over some of the remain-
ing letters, hastily but with obvious interest. Once
or twice he smiled a little. Five minutes later he
handed Verity another letter. It was the longest in
the collection, filling two thirds of a page. With
eyebrows raised and a little twist of the lips that
was oddly like her grandfather's, she read it and
handed it back. As she did so she glanced at Ren-
shaw, but he was unconscious of the look. He was
absently swallowing the tea Jenks had served, and
his dark face wore its most somber expression.
He was a closed and shuttered habitation, of which
his soul had drawn down the blinds.


HART FORMS A THEORY 93
Campbell handed him the mass of letters.
"All right,” he said. "We can catch the mail
very comfortably. Perhaps you would like to drive
over to the station with Hart, though of course
there's no need of it. But you might like the air
and to see a bit of the country. Why not have
Hart drive you around for an hour or so before
dinner?”
"Thank you, sir; perhaps I will."
Renshaw was turning to leave the room, when
the old man's voice stopped him.
“That's a very interesting thing you've done,”
he said, nodding toward the letters.
The other did not pretend to misunderstand.
“They wrote themselves," he said. “I did n't
realize till I read them that I had been impersonat-
ing you. If you would rather have me do them
more formally~"
Campbell shook his head.
"It's an amazingly clever piece of work,” he said.
"I'm quite convinced that I dictated every one of
them. They 're done exactly the way I should have
done them—if I could !"
When the door had closed behind the new sec-
retary, Campbell crossed the tips of his thin old
fingers and stared past them into the fire.
“There's a man inside that fellow," he


HART FORMS A THEORY 95
They were extraordinary eyes—intent, but oddly
blurred and with a look of lifelessness that was al-
most terrible. A little later Renshaw was given the
explanation of Hart's eyes; at this moment no ex-
planation was forthcoming. Hart himself seemed
a decent chap. He came forward at once to receive
the young man's message, and his thin, unsmiling
face held a look of respectful readiness.
“My name is Renshaw," said the newcomer.
“Yes, sir.”
Hart saluted with a finger to his bare head. The
salute had a semi-military quality.
"I've a lot of letters to go out, and Mr. Campbell
suggests that I drive to the station with you when
you 're ready."
"Very good, sir. I will be at the door in five
minutes."
Certainly the Campbell servants were well
trained. Renshaw's momentary appreciation of
their perfection was obscured by the sudden excite-
ment of the blue bundle at his feet. With upturned
face on the level of his knee, waving arms, prancing
fat legs, and loud outcries, the blue bundle was
demanding his attention.
“We-wee wide," she intensely observed. “We-
wee wide wick. We-wee wide wow.”
"She wants to go with you, sir,” Hart translated.


96
THE BLUE CIRCLE
“Miss Campbell often takes her. She's jest
learnin' English,” he dispassionately added, "so it
ain't always easy to understand what she says."
"Oh!” Renshaw stared down at the bundle.
The blue bundle redoubled its efforts to establish
communication and perfect understanding with the
tall object before it—the object that only this morn-
ing had seemed fairly intelligent in the matter of
lifting blue bundles high in the air.
"We-wee wide,” she persistently vociferated.
"All right. Come along. But we've got to ask
first, of course. I'm not ready to elope with you
yet, Juliet, though I dare say you 'll work me up to
it before we get through.”
Clinging to his hand, as they went toward the
front entrance We-wee filled the air with impas-
sioned sounds which she appeared to think ex-
pressed thought. To Renshaw they were mere
chuckles and gurgles, but they conveyed the emo-
tions of an infant at peace with the world, and he
listened with a nice appreciation of his companion's
subtlety. When the two reached the door of the
living-room, he thrust his head informally around
the half-open door.
“This youngster wants to go down to the station
with me, Mr. Campbell,” he began, almost boyishly.
Then, discovering that Verity was still with her
•


HART FORMS A THEORY
97
grandfather, his manner changed and hardened. “I
suppose it's all right?” he added.
"Oh, yes, if you don't mind."
Campbell spoke absently. Verity had been read-
ing aloud to him, and he resented the interruption,
which occurred at an exciting moment in the story.
Miss Campbell threw an absent direction over her
shoulder:
"Be sure to put her heavy coat on. And don't
keep her out more than an hour. She is supposed
to go to bed at six.”
A howl of protest greeted the hated word "bed.”
We-wee had hurled herself on the floor and was
kicking out vigorously, under the impression that
she was to be borne there at once. Renshaw hoisted
her to her legs with a certain firmness.
"Where's her coat?” he asked vaguely.
He looked and felt rather blank. He had not
realized that the duties of a nursemaid would be
involved in this adventure. But We-wee, calmed
and reassured by the mention of her coat, darted
toward the rear of the hall and was already return-
ing, dragging à tiny white fur ulster along the
polished floor. She knew that this ulster was asso-
ciated with "wides,” but she was vague as to other
details.
Renshaw checked her earnest effort to put her


98
THE BLUE CIRCLE
left leg through the right sleeve, and succeeded in
properly injecting her into the garment. Then he
knelt and buttoned an amazing number of large
white buttons. As he did so he was unpleasantly
conscious that Miss Campbell had come to the door
of the living-room and was regarding his efforts
with polite interest.
“You do it very well,” she said in a tone that held
a hint of amusement.
Renshaw flushed again, and loathed himself for
flushing
"I have had some practice on a little niece," he
began-and stopped short.
The girl looked at him in surprise. The un-
becoming flush had left the face he hurriedly turned
away from her. Her attention was caught by his
hands, which were fastening the last buttons of the
tiny coat. The fingers were actually trembling.
She closed the door and went back into the living-
room. She had felt a throb of sympathy for the
man, but beneath it lay something that was almost
contempt. What a wreck he was! And what was
the use of looking like a young Hercules if one had
the nerves of a sick kitten!
Hart and the roadster were at the front door.,
Renshaw dumped We-wee into a rear seat as
casually as if she had been the polar bear cub she


HART FORMS A THEORY 99
looked like. As he was about to follow her, he
was checked by the voice of Verity, who had hur-
ried from the house in response to the impulse of an
after-thought.
"Don't let her wriggle round, please," she said,
addressing him, but glancing past him with her
usual detachment. “She is trained to sit perfectly
quiet while the car is going. When it stops we let
her get down into the tonneau and play. If you
don't make her follow the rules, I shall have to
train her all over again the next time I take her
out."
The last sentence was not so abrupt as its word-
ing. Its tone was almost deprecating—by far the
most human tone in which Miss Campbell had yet
addressed him. Something like a smile crossed her
perfect lips. Renshaw raised his cap.
"I am a rigid disciplinarian myself," he coolly
observed. “You will see a great improvement in
this kid when I bring her back.”
Verity reëntered the house and closed the door
of the living-room with emphasis. It would be
well to be on one's guard with that young man, she
decided. He was the sort who would be patroniz-
ing or superior, if one gave him an opening. Then
her expression suddenly lightened. For some
reason, she was not sure what it was, he had an-


100 THE BLUE CIRCLE
noyed her, but she could afford to forget that. In
the next hour We-wee could be depended upon to
pay off the score. She knew what the unsuspecting
young man in the roadster did not know. Though
Miss We-wee was trained to sit still in an auto-
mobile, she was also accustomed to and exacted a
highly stimulating form of intellectual and emo-
tional diversion from her companion. Verity's lips
curved in a smile. Mr. John Renshaw was going
to have a busy hour. .
At about the same moment Mr. Renshaw him-
self was making the same discovery.
“Bossy tow," observed We-wee intensely.
He followed her glance. On the other side of a
near-by fence a preoccupied brown cow aloofly
gazed past them. She was awaiting the farmer's
boy who was due to escort her back to the farm,
and it was later than their usual trysting-time. Ren-
shaw's gaze reflected the cow's indifference, but the
bundle at his side was enchanted by the charm of
the brief encounter. Her gray eyes rounded with
excitement.
“Div We-wee bossy tow,” she abruptly de-
manded.
Renshaw shook his head. He was absently ad-
miring the car and the perfection of Hart's driving.
“Div We-wee bossy tow!!”
inded


HART FORMS A THEORY 101
The lady's tone was ominous, but the young man
did not catch its full significance. They were leav-
ing the cow behind them, and already Renshaw's
mind had cast away the memory of the momentary
association. Not so the mind of We-wee. A howl
of protest split the peace of the cold October twi-
light.
“Div We-wee bossy tow!!!”
Renshaw's thoughts returned abruptly to the
present. He looked at his small companion. She
had stiffened into rigidity. Her eyes were shut.
Her round face was drawn into an agonized pink
knot, in the center of which appeared a large open-
ing that emitted appalling sounds.
“Div We-wee bossy tow!!!!"
“What the deuce is the matter with her?” Ren-
shaw was addressing Hart as man to man.
"She wants the cow, sir," said Hart stolidly.
His eyes remained on the road before him. Not
a muscle of his thin face moved; but Renshaw
realized that, in his own quiet way, Hart was
happy. “Shall I stop, sir?” he added politely.
The secretary's jaw set.
"And get the cow ?" He spoke consideringly.
“By all means, if that is Miss Campbell's practice.
But put it into the front seat beside you, Hart, when
you have caught it.”


102 THE BLUE CIRCLE
· Hart touched the accelerator and the car shot
forward. The lines of Renshaw's jaw relaxed.
"DIV WE-WEE BOSSY TOW!”
The demand was now far-reaching. The bossy
cow herself, left far behind though she was, must
have heard it and speculated morbidly over her
fate. Renshaw shook his head.
"Oh, no,” he said briskly. “You don't want
an ordinary brown cow. What you want is a
great big white cow, to go with your coat.”
Miss We-wee had just drawn a very deep breath,
designed to carry on its expulsion her sixth and
loudest request. With mouth open and breath
suspended, she considered the suggestion.
"A great big white cow," repeated Mr. Renshaw,
somewhat anxiously, “with lots of bells on that go
tinkle-tinkle, and a wreath of flowers hanging
around its neck.”
We-wee's mouth closed slowly. The image of
the brown cow was wiped forever from her mind.
Breathless, intrigued, she hung on her new friend's
words.
"Just as soon as we meet a cow like that in the
road,” added Renshaw solemnly, "We-wee shall
have it."
Wee-wee's pink face unknotted and relaxed into
an expression of utter content. One tiny mittened
nd


HART FORMS A THEORY 103
hand emerged from the rug and clutched Renshaw's
arm in delicious expectancy. Like tiny lightning-
shafts, her glances swept the darkening road.
"We-wee may not see any great big white cow
for a long, long time,” added the veracious
chronicler, “so let's play church. Here's the
church.”
He put his fists together, and We-wee regarded
them with the absent gaze of one whose thoughts
are inseparably attached to large white cows.
"Here's the steeple,” he added, and formed the
towering mass with joined forefingers. We-wee's
glance lit on the steeple like a bird, and fluttered
from it as abruptly.
"Here's the big door," chanted Renshaw, form-
ing that attraction with sentinel thumbs. We-wee
leaned forward and inspected the thumbs.
“And a-1-1 the people,” the young man impress-
ively ended.
The child's wide gaze stared at the eight inter-
locked fingers that represented the crowded con-
gregation. The white cow joined the brown cow
among the snows of yester-year.
"Do it 'den,” she ecstatically yelped. He did it
again.
“We-wee do it.”
He showed her how. He had to draw off the


104 THE BLUE CIRCLE
tiny mittens. The touch of the baby hands was
singularly pleasant. They made the church many
times—about nine hundred and eighty-six times,
Renshaw lightly estimated.
“Hark do it.”
Hart, his gloved hands on the wheel of the flying
car, was unable to oblige. We-wee was persistent.
A: certain persistence seemed her dominant charac-
teristic. Renshaw was conscious of a sensation
toward Hart that approached annoyance. The
fellow might have raised one hand, at least, in
response to the lady's request.
From the church and steeple to the five little pigs
was a natural, even an inevitable transition. The
new secretary was enjoying himself. He had not
played with a child for a very long time. There
was something restful about it.
Hart, at the wheel of the flying roadster, with
his strange eyes on the road before him, labeled and
relabled the man in the tonneau: He was a bloom-
ing chump. He was a down-and-outer. He was
crazy as a loon. He was a has-been. One could
see he had been some one once, but there was noth-
ing left of him. That is, there wasn't much. He
was the kind you could n't get too fresh with,
though. There was something about him-perhaps
it was only "side"— It was clear enough that he'd


HART FORMS A THEORY
105
been educated and all that sort of thing— And he
had a kind of a way with him- One could n't ex-
actly hold anything against him. He must have
been a reg'lar fella once—the kind that flew high.
The mental processes of Hart became confused.
His mind was not accustomed to being severely
taxed. He decided that Renshaw was the kind of
bird you had to think about a while before you got
his number.
Behind him, the voice of Renshaw babbled on
with a monotony that offered strong support to
Hart's first impression:
“And this little pig said 'wee-wee-wee-wee' all
the way home !"
We-wee gurgled with rapture. That the little pig
should call upon her thus appealingly was only a
proper attention on the little pig's part. But surely
there should be some warm human response on
hers, followed by immediate and intimate associa-
tion between two so strongly drawn toward each
other.
“Div We-wee wittle pig,” she yearningly im-
plored.
Renshaw's suggestion that the little pig might
possibly call on her that night after she was asleep
made We-wee look very thoughtful. She was not
sure that she cared to receive little pigs under those


106
THE BLUE CIRCLE
conditions. Listening to the lengthy and thought-
ful discussion that followed, Hart returned ab-
ruptly to his original theory about the secretary.
"Aw, hell,” he disgustedly told himself, “I got
his number, all right. He's a nut!"


CHAPTER VII
THE THING
INNER that night was cheerful, almost gay.
Madame Hvoeslef had thrown off the air of
strain Renshaw had observed in her during their
previous meeting, and was putting her social gifts
through their paces. These gifts were unusual.
She was a really charming woman, traveled, sophis-
ticated, tolerant, humorous, and understanding. She
seemed to know everybody. It was plain that she
had moved in high places. But, though she talked
well always and brilliantly at times, she resolutely
confined herself to impersonal topics. Her talk was
the talk of the visitor to many lands.
Miss Campbell, too, had traveled. It appeared
that she and Madame Hvoeslef had met in Morocco.
They spoke of night expeditions in Tangier, in
which, moving uncertainly with their guides in the
inky blackness of narrow unlit streets, they had
trodden on the squirming figures of sleeping natives;
and of a certain horseback expedition over the
107


THE THING
109
mand that motioned him into the hall. He followed
her, closing the door of the living-room as he
left it.
Madame Hvoeslef was walking slowly toward
the staircase. He accompanied her in silence. On
the lowest step she stopped and looked at him. The
look was a peculiar one, intense, doubtful, almost
suspicious. Under it he straightened, and his own
eyes hardened as they squarely met hers. He
objected to being so obviously weighed by this for-
eigner, and he saw no reason why he should not
show it. Her glance changed suddenly. She be-
came again the fascinating woman of the dinner-
hour.
"Mr. Campbell has told me," she began gra-
ciously, in her rather throaty, velvet-soft voice and
excellent English, “that you will perhaps be so kind
as to do me a service."
Renshaw inclined his head.
"I am here to be of use," he said formally.
"You are so good.” Madame Hvoeslef's man-
ner warmed still more. Her position on the stair-
case brought her eyes on a level with his. She sent
a swift glance up and down the deserted hall. “It
is a little journey to the city that I ask,” she went
on hurriedly and in a very low tone. “You will
not mind that, to-morrow morning—to take the


IIO THE BLUE CIRCLE
train at ten o'clock and to return at five? You can
be back, you see, in time for dinner.”
“I am entirely at your service."
Renshaw stepped back from the staircase, assum-
ing that the brief interview was over. He disliked
her air of mystery. It threw around him, like the
suffocating folds of a mourning garment, the at-
mosphere of the night before.
"I will get the rest of my instructions after break-
fast, I suppose,” he observed in a matter-of-fact
tone and without lowering his voice. Its clear pitch
seemed to alarm her. She looked about apprehen-
sively.
“Yes,” she murmured; "after breakfast—in the
study. Thank you, then—and good night."
She threw in her most charming smile with that,
but Renshaw's unaccustomed lips could not return
the smile.
"Good night, Madame," he said with grave
courtesy, and returned to the living-room.
He was conscious that she did not at once con-
tinue her little journey up the stairs. Instead, she
remained motionless, looking after him. He opened
the door into the long room with an actual sense
of escape, and immediately regretted that he had
returned. Verity, still at the piano, glanced up at
the sound of his entrance, and he met her eyes.


THE THING
III
They darkened as if with annoyance, and her
smooth brow puckered under the same emotion.
The expression passed as quickly as it came, but he
interpreted it aright. She disliked him as much as
he disliked her. She disliked him so much, indeed,
that his casual return to a room she was in almost
angered her. Well, he would not annoy her long.
Without a second glance at her, he crossed the room
to Campbell's side.
“Any instructions, sir?"
Campbell revealed the fact that he had not been
as drowsy as he had seemed.
"Madame Hvoeslef told you just now that she
wanted you to go into town to-morrow, did n't
she?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You won't mind ?”
"No, sir; of course not. Why should I?”
"I'd hate it like the devil," Campbell cheerfully
admitted. “A visit to town knocks me out for a
month. The infernal noise alone is a nightmare.
But of course that's nothing to a young chap like
you."
He had forgotten or was deliberately ignoring
the young chap's admitted lack of nerve fitness, and
in either case Renshaw was grateful.
“And do be careful about the influenza Mr.


II2
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw," Mrs. Pardee anxiously contributed.
“They ’re dying off like flies in the tenements and
big men go so easily I'm trying to make my brother
use a nasal douche twice a day but he's as unreason-
able about it as he is about everything else and he's
got a cold this minute that is apt to develop "
Renshaw bent and kissed her hand. He rather
liked this persistent little Jeremiah, because she was
so obvious.
"I won't bring back a germ,” he promised.
“Good night.”
He included Miss Campbell in the farewell as he
was leaving the room, but she seemed to have for-
gotten his presence. She was trying a new song
in an undertone and did not raise her eyes from the
notes. But the music of her wonderful voice fol-
lowed him into the hall, and he still seemed to hear
it as he went up-stairs.
He entered his room with a warming sense of
comfort. The lights were lit, a fire blazed in the
big fireplace, the sheets of his bed had been folded
back, and, as a new touch of coziness, an electric
reading-lamp had been placed beside his bed, with
a little pile of books and magazines under it. He
glanced at the books with a smile.
"Conrad in Quest of His Youth.” Of course
there would be that! "Roosevelt's Letters to His


THE THING
113
Children.” “The Outline of History," by Wells.
A little book of leisurely essays. Variety enough,
surely. He wondered who had selected them. Then,
ungratefully rejecting them all, he undressed, got in-
to bed, and stretched out a hand for a financial mag-
azine. It was not yet eleven o'clock. He would
read for half an hour, and then, he hoped, have a
good night's sleep.
Soon he began to feel drowsy and he turned off
the reading-lamp, but he could still see distinctly in
the fire-lit room.
The house was very quiet. In his distant wing
he could hear no echo of Verity's voice or piano,
however passionately her music poured forth. He
rather wished he could. It would be wonderful to
be lulled to sleep by such singing. He fancied,
however, that the family group had now broken up.
Old David and Mrs. Pardee kept early hours, and it
was unlikely that the girl would linger in the big
room alone. He speculated as to where they all
slept. Campbell's room, he fancied, was above the
study, in the south wing. The women, too, were
no doubt on his floor, but also off in that other
distant wing. His subconscious mind dallied with
memories of the day—bits of Campbell's con-
fidences, We-wee's baby hands, the watchfulness of
James the footman, the resentful back of Hart after


114
THE BLUE CIRCLE
hís tacit impertinence had been checked, the hushed,
throaty voice of Madame Hvoeslef-
It was at this instant that he again observed the
blue circle. It had appeared as suddenly as on the
night before, but in a different spot on the same
wall. For a few moments he watched it, his eyes
narrowing with an interest he had not felt the night
before. To-morrow he must look around and find
the source of that reflection. In the meantime, he
would once more compose himself for slumber.
He looked at his watch. It was almost twelve
o'clock. As he sank back in a darkness broken
only by the dying blaze of the fire, he felt quite
sure that he could sleep. The house was quiet.
He may have slept half an hour before he heard
the first sound in the outer hall. It was an unmis-
takable sound—the sound of a very heavy body
falling. He sat up with a jerk and a muttered
oath that held more impatience than alarm. It
perfectly expressed his feelings. He had, indeed,
been so reassured by Campbell's words that morn-
ing that it was difficult to feel any emotion but
annoyance at this untimely interruption to sleep.
He lay down again and resolutely closed his eyes.
He had told Campbell about the noise of the night
before, and Campbell had not been impressed.
Campbell had assured him that anything that hap-


THE THING
115
pened inside the house would be unimportant. All
right, then. The thing for him to do was to ignore
what he did not understand.
But the noise in the hall would not be ignored.
The thing that was making it had begun to move,
to crawl along, to pant heavily. Renshaw pursed
his lips and raised his eyebrows. In the gloom of
his room he could plainly see the transom above
his door, but no reflected gleam came through it.
The lights in the hall had been turned out. Even
if he rose and opened the door, he could not clearly
see what was in the hall. And it was none of his
business, anyway. His mind clung to that fact.
It was none of his business! Anything that hap-
pened in the hall He did n't need to get up. He
did n't want to get up. In fact, the notion of get-
ting up was rather horrible. Therefore, of course,
he must get up. Convalescence, he was beginning
to discover, meant doing immediately anything and
all things one particularly did not desire to do.
He rose quietly, and without switching on a light
went noiselessly to the door opening into the hall
and grasped the knob. His intention was to open
that door with a quick jerk and thus surprise the
thing that was moving outside. But, though he
unconsciously braced himself as he seized the knob,
the door did not yield. He exerted all his strength.


116
THE BLUE CIRCLE
The door held fast. He drew back and stared at
it. It had not yielded for the best and simplest of
reasons. It was locked—and locked from the out-
side!
He had opened his windows before he went to
bed. The cold night air blowing in upor his
pajama-clad figure reminded him that the reflections
which seemed his sole recourse could be indulged in
more comfortably in bed than out of it. He went
back to bed. There seemed nothing else to do.
His room, he had already observed, did not include
the convenience of a bell—a rather striking omis-
sion, by the way. He listened.
The thing itself was coming nearer, was very
near his door, was now at the door itself. There,
for a moment, it lay motionless, though he contin-
ued to hear the panting breaths. It suggested a
sick animal, a very large and very sick animal. All
right. If it wanted to pant at his door, let it pant.
But in his heart Renshaw objected to the thing.
He, objected to that locked door, and to an odd
sense of helplessness that stole over him. He tried
to think, and evolved only the wild idea that pos-
sibly old Campbell was testing his nerve-an idea
killed as soon as it was born. Old Campbell was
not that sort.
The noise outside the door began again, but now



Tomorrow he must find the source of that reflection





THE THING
117
its character had changed. The knob turned, softly
but persistently. Apparently the thing outside
wanted to get in. Other sounds followed-scratch-
ing sounds. For a moment he listened in puzzled
confusion, unable to interpret them. Then, under
his breath, he swore again. The thing outside was
climbing. He felt it bump against his door, and
the bump was heavy and without caution. The
thing seemed to have no objection whatever to being
heard. In some way it was drawing itself up to
the transom. There were padded sounds against
the glass. There seemed to be a definite effort to
open the transom.
He was sitting up again, with unswerving eyes
upon that transom. And now, at last, he saw some-
thing. It was a hand and arm, very large and
dark. The hand clutched avidly but futilely at the
top of the transom, in an apparent effort to release
the catch. But the catch was on Renshaw's side.
The transom did not open. For another instant the
clutching hand moved and even seemed to beckon.
Then it disappeared, and simultaneously there was
again the sound of a heavy fall, this time just out-
side his door. That was followed by the crawling
sound, growing fainter by degrees, and then by
silence.
Renshaw moistened his lips. The situation was


118
THE BLUE CIRCLE
simply incredible, but his mind worked on it with
gratifying briskness.
Seemingly the thing, whatever it was, fell out of
some room into the hall. Yet no animal or human
being heavy enough to make that noise in dropping
could possibly crawl through a transom. Never-
theless, the thing had apparently made an effort to
crawl through his transom. Also, it had made an
effort to open his door. That seemed sufficient
proof that the thing itself had not locked his door.
Some one else had done so. Who? Presumably
the door had been locked to guard him. Why, and
from what? And if he had to be guarded from
some animal or madman, why the devil had n't
Campbell told him so ?
Renshaw found no answer to these questions,
though they occupied his mind to a degree that
forbade sleep. For a long time he brooded upon
them, while renewed silence settled over the house.
At first he had expected the thing to return, but
soon he remembered that it had not returned the
night before. Apparently it had its habits, fixed
and unalterable. It took its nightly airing, and
then, content, went to its lair. In the meantime he
himself was a prisoner. Or was he, now that the
thing had gone?
Half an hour passed before he could decide to


CHAPTER VIII
RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION
ENSHAW dressed, the next morning, wear-
N ing a certain line of determination about his
jaws and nursing a valiant resolve to keep steady.
He had slept well, when he was left to sleep, but
he did not enjoy his night's experience in retrospect
any more than he had enjoyed it at the time. He
loathed episodes of an uncanny nature. He loathed
being locked in his room. And he decided that the
latter experience at least should not happen to him
again.
He was going to town that morning. He would
equip himself while there with a little set of tools
that would open any locked door with reasonable
promptness. Also, he would get a flash-light, a
revolver, and a few other trifles that seemed to fit
neatly into his new environment.
The alertness of his mind in working out these
plans vaguely gratified him, until he began to think
about it. Then the old sense of lethargy crept into
his consciousness, combined with the self-pity whose
120


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 121
twin was self-contempt. He did not want to think
about all these complications. He wanted peace
and a clean-cut job. But, since the undesired el-
ements were forcing themselves into the situation,
he forced his will to the task of meeting them. He
considered the notion of reporting the night episodes
to Campbell, and promptly decided against it. He
had already had his ruling on that point.
Suddenly he remembered the blue circle, and
began somewhat vaguely to look about his room.
That circle mystery, at least, should be easy to clear
up. But before he had inspected more than a few
objects on his high-boy, all of which seemed in-
capable of sinister reflection, a deferential tap on
the door was followed by the entrance of Jenks,
carrying an armful of linen and bath towels.
"I observed you were short of these, sir," he said
as he turned toward the bath-room. “Annie is in-
clined to be forgetful. You will always find fresh
linen in the hall closet at the left of your door as
you go out.”
Renshaw thanked him absently. He was stand-
ing before a mirror, and he fancied he caught in
the reflected eyes of the butler a closely watchful
expression. But Jenks passed into the bath-room,
where Renshaw heard him turning the waste faucet
that permitted the escape of the standing water in


I 22
THE BLUE CIRCLE
the bath-tub, Renshaw himself having omitted to
attend to this detail. The secretary slipped into his
coat, gave the back of his black head a final and
formerly characteristic stroke with which he had
not favored it for two years, and was ready for
breakfast. As he turned toward the door, Jenks
emerged from the bath-room.
“I hope you slept well, sir,” he politely observed.
Renshaw nodded; then, on a sudden impulse,
checked his stride.
"Jenks,” he said slowly, "you were good enough
to warn me that I might hear some unusual sounds
in this house."
“Yes, sir.”
Jenks, standing still, the forgotten towels still
over his arm, had listened with deferential interest.
Now he dropped his eyes, but not before Renshaw
had seen the flash in them.
"Do you mind telling me just what you meant by
that warning ?-for of course you intended it as a
warning."
For an instant the imperturbable Jenks was con-
fused, and showed it. He hesitated, and his glance
shifted from the floor to the wall. In the next
instant he had firmly resumed his habitual poise,
and his words, when he spoke, were slow and
carefully thought out.


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 123
"I took a liberty in speaking of the matter at all,
sir,” he said. “I hope you will forget it.”
“How the dickens can I forget it?" demanded
Renshaw irritably, "when I'm kept awake by the
infernal noises? What's the meaning of them,
anyway? That's what I want to know.”
Again the mask of unquestioning servitude
dropped from the face of Jenks. For the first time,
he met the other man's eyes.
“You heard noises last night?” he asked quickly.
“What were they?”
“That's what I'm asking you."
The glance of Jenks shifted again.
"I can't say, sir," he said, with a swift return to
his formal manner. "I ought not to have mentioned
the matter at all. I did it because I thought it
might all be a bit unsettling to a stranger—"
Renshaw laughed shortly. There was nothing
more to be got from Jenks. He was sorry he had
brought up the subject. He was ready to let it
drop; but Jenks had a question to ask, and brought
it out as the young man reached the door:
"I beg pardon, sir, but have you mentioned the
matter to Mr. Campbell ?”
"Yes,” said Renshaw shortly.
Jenks was startled again, and showed it. “Oh!
I would n't have done that, sir!” he brought out.


124
THE BLUE CIRCLE
“Why not?”
Renshaw, his back to the door, watched him
closely.
“Why, because, I can't just explain, sir,-it's
all very difficult,” Jenks was foundering, but he
finished on a firm note. “You see, sir, we endeavor
to spare Mr. Campbell every annoyance."
"You mean he does n't know—"
"I mean," said Jenks, with increasing firmness,
"that when anything unpleasant happens we try to
keep it to ourselves.”
“Oh, you do!”
The new secretary felt rather flat. He also felt
increasingly puzzled. The discussion seemed an
absurd one. And yet—and yet—
He had one more question to ask:
“Whom do you mean by 'we'?”
Jenks looked surprised. “Why—all of us, sir."
“Meaning the servants, or the family, or both ?"
Jenks was himself again. There was something
austere, almost majestic, in his quiet reply. It
made Renshaw feel like a chessman pushed back on
the board of life by a skilful player.
"I mean the employees, sir. Naturally, we realize
that it is not our place to make comments or to
ask questions."
Jenks had scored, and Renshaw's slow flush gave


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 125
him his tally. He himself was one of the Campbell
employees—no, he was not even on that dignified
level : he was a mere chattel, and Jenks knew it.
Yet Jenks himself had first spoken of the "strange
goings on" in the old house, evidently as a friendly
warning.
"The matter is of no importance,” Renshaw said
abruptly, and went down to breakfast.
The dining-room was unoccupied save for James,
who watched with appreciation the secretary's dis-
criminating choice among the hot dishes. The
ladies, Renshaw learned, had breakfast in their
respective rooms. When he had finished his meal
and smoked a leisurely cigar, he went to the study.
It was empty, but a fire burned on the hearth, and
Renshaw sank into an easy-chair before it with a
renewed sense that his lines had fallen in pleasant
places. The study was so comfortable and so nor-
mal! All the house seemed normal, indeed, except
that north room of his and the corridor leading to
it. He recalled a casual remark of Campbell: “Mr.
Renshaw will use that room, unless, after he has
tried it, he prefers another.”
What did Campbell mean by that? Surely it
meant that Campbell knew about the noises and
realized that a stranger might find them disconcert-
ing, to put the stranger's impressions mildly.


126
THE BLUE CIRCLE
The door of the study opened and Madame
Hvoeslef glanced into the room. She was a trifle
breathless, as if she had hurried downstairs. Her
dark face brightened as the secretary rose and went
toward her. She came into the room and closed
the door behind her, with several cautious back-
ward glances that aroused sardonic amusement in
the observer. Madame Hvoeslef, he decided, ought
to have the leading rôle in a melodrama, she was
so admirably equipped for the part. He saw that
she was carrying a square leather case with a
handle, and he hastened to take it from her. She
let him have it, but hesitatingly, and she had the air
of standing over it until he had placed it on the
table.
"Monsieur," she then said impressively, “I have
in this case my most valuable property. It is worth
fifty thousand dollars—and that,” she grimly added,
"is all I have left in this world.”
Renshaw's unaccustomed lips twitched in their
nearest approach to a smile. The jewel-case, of
course! The jewel-case was all that was needed to
make Madame Hvoeslef's rôle complete. Appar-
ently she read his thoughts, for she shook her head.
"It is not jewelry,” she said, with sudden dignity.
“It is not money; it is not securities. What is in
this case is unique in the world. If it were


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 127
lost or destroyed, it could never be replaced.”
Renshaw bowed and looked at the case with
respect.
"It is this case," added the woman, "that I wish
you to take to the city to-day. But first tell me,
have you a hand-bag that will hold it?”
He told her he had.
“Will you be so very kind as to fetch it here?”
He ran up to his room and brought down the
hand-bag. The foreigner looked at it approvingly.
It was a heavy bag of foreign make, with strong
clasps and double locks. She opened it and put the
square case in its capacious depths, which it held
comfortably.
"From the moment I put this in your charge,
Monsieur, it is not to leave your hands until you
give it to my representative in New York," she
went on impressively. “That is understood, is it
not?"
"It is, Madame.”
For a moment the foreigner remained silent, look-
ing at him, her hands resting on the handle of the
closed bag. She seemed to be studying him and,
even at this late hour, hesitatingly weighing him.
When at last she spoke, her words were an evident
combination of her mental processes.
“You will forgive me, Monsieur,” she said, and


128 THE BLUE CIRCLE
her foreign accent was more marked than ever
before, “if I hesitate. You are to me a stranger,
and to us all; and yet, I must trust you. Doctor
Stanley has told me you can do this service. What
else can I do?” she added, almost to herself. “What
other could undertake it?"
Renshaw made a determined effort to bring the
scene back to the commonplace.
"What especial danger do you look for, Ma-
dame ?” he asked lightly. "An effort to overpower
me and take the case from me?”
She shook her head.
"Surely not,” she said. “No one will know that
you have it. No one saw me bring it here, and the
servants will think it quite natural that you should
go to town for Mr. Campbell. I have said in the
hearing of Jenks that you are going to town for
Mr. Campbell, and Jenks will tell the rest. Besides,
the servants are loyal. It is not the servants we
have to fear. And any one outside who is watch-
ing will think you are one of those men who are
always coming to see Mr. Campbell on business.
They drift in and out like the autumn leaves," she
Her hearer experienced a passing surprise.
Surely some of those numerous visitors to Tawno
Ker might have carried the square case back to


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 129
town. She read that thought, too. Madame
Hvoeslef, he was beginning to realize, was a very
clever woman.
"I would not trust them,” she explained in a low
voice. “I dared not take it myself. I dared not
trust another. My problem was serious indeed,
Monsieur, until you came. Now, there must be no
more delay. The case must go in. The first time
I met you I said at once to myself, 'He shall do it;
one can depend on him.'"
"I am honored by your confidence, Madame."
Renshaw spoke formally, but his eyes had
warmed and the woman saw it. She held out her
hand. He took it and instinctively played the rôle
she had assigned to him by bending to kiss the hand.
It was a beautiful hand, exquisite in form and
texture. From it flowed the magnetism of the
splendid creature whose dark eyes were resting on
his bent head. For a moment the tableau held, and
in that moment Verity Campbell casually opened
the study door and glanced in. She took in the
picture with uninterested eyes and addressed the
secretary, who looked up without self-consciousness.
"Oh, here you are, Mr. Renshaw,” she said, her
gaze flitting past him, as usual. “Grandfather asked
me to say that your train goes at ten-five, and that
he would like to see you in the living-room before


130
THE BLUE CIRCLE
you leave. Hart will take you to the station, of
course. Shall we ride this morning, Leoni?” She
turned to the woman as if the young man were no
longer there.
Madame Hvoeslef nodded.
“By all means," she said cordially. “But, par-
don me—one moment. Here is the letter that goes
with the package, Monsieur. You will forgive the
seal?” She handed him an envelope addressed in
a pointed, foreign handwriting. “You will give
the letter and the package to the gentleman whose
address is on the envelope—and you will give them
to no one else."
Renshaw put the letter in an inside pocket and
picked up the hand-bag.
"Am I to bring anything back ?” he asked.
"Only the sealed receipt he will give you. Ana
thank you again, Monsieur. I cannot express my
gratitude."
Renshaw bowed to both ladies and left the study,
carrying the hand-bag. In the living-room, Camp-
bell, close to the fire, looked up at him with a
grimace. One leg ending in a swollen, slippered
foot was stretched out on a chair opposite him.
"One of my bad days," he explained. “A touch
of gout. Too much port for dinner, I'm afraid.
I'm glad you 're going to have a day in town, my


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 131
boy, if you like that sort of thing. It will do you
good. It won't take you an hour to put through
Madame Hvoeslef's little commission. After you
have done that, knock about a bit. Don't bother
to be back for dinner unless you choose. See a
musical comedy.” He winced under a twinge.
"Can I attend to anything for you, sir, before I
go or in town?”
Campbell shook his head.
“No. We cleared the decks yesterday, you know.
But, yes, there's one thing I must not forget.
You'll need some money. That's why I sent for
you."
Moving with cautious consideration for the in-
jured foot, he took a roll of bills from a trousers
pocket and handed it over.
"A month's advance," he briefly explained. “You
may want to get some things in town."
“That's very good of you, Mr. Campbell."
Renshaw took the money, flushing, and thrust it
into his pocket. It was good of Campbell to think
of that. Renshaw would have been in a rather
awkward position if Campbell had not thought of
it, and there were things in town that he needed.
"I'll be off, then," he added, "if you 're sure
there's nothing else."
Campbell's keen old eyes followed him to the


132 THE BLUE CIRCLE
door. He was beginning to like his new secretary,
and the fact surprised him. He was actually rather
sorry the fellow was going off for the day. Perhaps
he could read aloud and thus relieve Verity, who was
reading aloud rather more than was good for her
throat and voice. He would have to see about that
the next morning.
Up in his room, Renshaw tossed a few additional
trifles into the black bag and carefully locked it.
He must wash his hands after this fumbling with
bags and locks, and then join the waiting Hart,
whose patient stand at the front door was indicated
by the pulsing of a motor engine. He turned on the
water in the bath-room, washed his hands, and, look-
ing helplessly around, swore softly to himself. Of
all the towels the attentive Jenks had brought, not
one was on the rack. A suspicion that had shot into
his mind with Jenks's visit was confirmed. The
towels were only Jenks's excuse to come to the room
and learn whether Renshaw had heard strange
sounds the night before. His curiosity satisfied,
Jenks had not even troubled to leave the towels, or
possibly had been too much flustered to do so.
Rather stupid of Jenks, that, but all of a piece with
a lot of things that crumpled the rose-leaves at
Tawno Ker. Given half a chance, a fellow could
be so comfortable there!


RENSHAW ASKS A QUESTION 133
He rescued a discarded bath-towel on the floor,
and wiped his hands. Then, in the outer room, he
shrugged into his coat, put on his hat, picked the
black bag off the bed where he had tossed it, and
swung toward the door. He had almost half an
hour to make his train-comfortable time. But,
when he reached his door, again, as last night, the
door-knob refused to yield to his touch! He pulled
and tugged, with no result. The door was locked
from the outside, and the shot-bolt was a strong
one.
He wasted no time on it. · In two strides he was
at a front window, had jerked it open, and was call-
ing down to Hart.
“Send Jenks up here, please,” he directed. “My
door is caught and I can't open it. Tell him to
bring an extra key.”
He caught the expression of surprise on Hart's
face as he jumped from his car and ran into the
house. There was a several-minute interval, fol-
lowed by the sound of hurrying steps, of fumbling
at the lock, and the door swung open. Jenks stood
outside, his round face wearing an expression of
combined surprise and concern. “I'm so sorry,
sir," he said hurriedly. “Most annoying for you,
sir. I hope this has n’t lost you the train.”
"I think not."


134. THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw had no time to discuss the incident. It
had taken five or six minutes to get out of the room,
just enough to make the difference between a
leisurely catching of the train and a determined
effort to get it. He hurried down-stairs and into
the waiting car with a terse order to Hart to "let
her out." Ahead of him, cantering down the
maple-lined avenue leading to the road, he saw
Verity Campbell and Madame Hvoeslef, mounted
on excellent horses. Quick work, their change into
riding clothes, but he gave them only a preoccupied
glance.
The kind of thing that was going on at Tawno
Ker would n't do-it simply would n't do at all.
This being locked into one's room was both absurd
and infuriating. He must do something about it.
At the reflection his will experienced the usual recoil
-a recoil that shook him as the discharge shakes a
gun. He did not want to do anything, but he must.
He caught his train, thanks to the fine abandon of
Hart's driving. In the smoking-car he settled the
traveling-bag on his knees, and, with one hand rest-
ing protectingly upon it, whipped his mind to the
point of constructive thought.


CHAPTER IX
MISS DAISY
as
D ENSHAW'S first and strongest conclusion was
that he must get rid of the case at the
earliest possible moment. That square leather case,
whatever its contents, increasingly represented the
particular kind of responsibility he desired to escape.
The address of the Trust Company whose represen-
tative was to relieve him of it was within half a mile
of the station. When his train reached the city, he
hurried to a taxicab, and having given his instruc-
tions to the driver, who received them coldly, settled
back on the cushions and regarded with growing
disfavor the bag on his knees.
He began to feel as if that bag had always been
upon his knees—as if it would always be there.
His impulse to hand the case over to another grew
with each moment that passed. And yet, from start
to finish of the little project of bringing it to town,
nothing unusual had occurred except the episode of
the locked door, which possibly had nothing what-
ever to do with the leather case. No one had
135


136
THE BLUE CIRCLE
molested him; so far as he knew, no one had
even observed him. His fifty-thousand-dollar charge
might have been a box of collars, for all the interest
it created in any mind save Madame Hvoeslef's and
his own—and his interest, up till now, had not been
overwhelming.
The taxicab stopped at the entrance to the Trust
Company's elaborate offices, and Renshaw, having
largely overpaid the driver rather than wait for
change, hurried inside and demanded audience with
the man to whom his letter was addressed. His
impatience appeared to annoy a many-buttoned
office-boy, who conducted him to a bench in a lobby
and aloofly advised him to wait there. Renshaw bit
his lips, but obeyed. His nerves were relaxing a
trifle. He had reached his destination, had all but
turned over his package, and thus far the case was
safe. Nevertheless, he surveyed with some interest
his two neighbors on the bench.
One was a pretty girl, young, fluffy-haired,
pumped, silk-stockinged, and with a steadfast eye
on Renshaw's somber profile. She looked like a
sophisticated flapper. The other was a pink-
cheeked, impatient youth, apparently a bank messen-
ger, whose lips were pursed in a noiseless whistle to
which restless feet, clad in lavender silk stockings
and toothpick patent-leather shoes, beat an accom-


MISS DAISY
DAI
137
paniment on the tiled floor. Renshaw had taken a
seat between the two. It seemed a pity. Their
Creator had made them for each other. Suddenly
the lady addressed him.
“The way they tack us to these benches an' then
beat it,” she observed, “is somethin' fierce. They
seem ť think we ain't got no homes." Her voice
was the flat-keyed, one-noted, nasal voice of her
type.
Renshaw agreed. His courteous but brief reply
would have ended the conversation in our best cir-
cles, but his neighbor was not a member of these.
"They treated me th' same way th’ other day,”
she went on aggrievedly. "I give you me word,
they kep' me nailed here two hours, an' me docked
for ev'ry minute I lose. If I had n't thought to tell
Madame Maurice that a lady stopped me in the
waitin'-room of the Astor an' ast me ť manicure
her nails, I'd 'a' been docked two dollars. 'Course
I had to pay Madame the dollar the lady would 'a'
paid me if she had ast me to manicure her nails,”
she dreamily added, "but that was a dollar better
than payin' a two-dollar fine. Doncha think so ?”
Renshaw vaguely murmured that one dollar was
less than two. The girl babbled on.
"Y' see, I bought some stock," she volunteered.
“Course I only bought one share, 'cos I ain't saved


138 THE BLUE CIRCLE
enough money fer any more. But one share means
somethin' t' me, whatever it means to the suitor over
at the high-polish desk. He's the guy I'm after-
see—the bald-headed one that thinks he could advise
Pres’dent Harding an' Lord George. When I fin'ly
got next to 'm last Monday and handed him me
paper, he shoved it back at me like he had a hang-
nail and did n't want to touch nothin'. 'Young
woman,' he says in a dyin' voice, ‘all you got here is
a receipt,' he says. “That's gotta be changed,' he
says, 'fer a paid-up stock certif'cate.' I jest drew
myself up an' I looks at 'im. ‘Ol' man,' I says, 'I
know all about that,' I says. “That's what I'm
here for,' I says. "Gimme the stock certif'cate,' I
says, “an' try to move like you was a live one!' An'
what d' you think he did ?”
Renshaw's lips twitched, but before he could
speak she went on:
"He rung his bell like he was goin' to bore his
thumb through the desk, an' the kid in the buttons
come runnin'. 'Frederick,' says Baldie, very cold
and stern, an' lookin' past me like I was n't there,
‘escort this young person to the outer air,' he says,
‘and tell her on the way the stock certif'cates won't
be ready till Friday.'”.
She stopped for breath. Renshaw observed that
CO


MISS DAISY
139
the youth at the other end of the bench had ceased
tapping the floor, and was leaning forward, follow-
ing the recital with great intensity. Simultaneously
the raconteuse made the same discovery, and her
chin rose consciously as she turned a shoulder
toward the new audience.
"What d'ye think I says to him then?" she went
on with growing unction. “I says to him, 'Baldy,'
I says, 'if Frederick tries to conduct me anywhere,'
I says, 'his fam’ly will be conductin' his funeral
services,' I says, 'an' he's too young to die. You
ain't,' I says; 'you've lived your life, an' this place
would look a whole lot better,' I says, 'with you out
of it.' Believe me, Mister, he turned green. I
guess he thought I was goin' to start somethin'.
But I jest rose and I says, 'I 'll be back Friday,' I
says, 'and if my stock ain't ready then, I 'll want
to know why.' And with that I turned an' left
him-like a lady. But he's been ringin' his bell
like mad ever since he seen me come in this mornin',
and I'm beginnin't think mebbe he's sent for the
police. An' me jest jokin' with 'm all the time,
'cause I got a sense of humor!”
The messenger on the bench laughed out. Ren-
shaw's lips twitched stiffly. Frederick, returning
with his dignity unimpaired by their previous en-


140
THE BLUE CIRCLE
counter, remotely informed the lady that Mr.
Bradley would see her now. She arose with a
flutter of skirts and a jingle of dangling orna-
ments.
"If he ain't got my stock certif'cate ready, he's
got a s'prise comin',” she darkly predicted, and fol-
lowed the figure of Frederick.
Five minutes later the buttoned youth returned.
“Mr. Atkins will see you, sir,” he reported, and
led Renshaw to a desk behind brass railings, in a
distant corner of the office. Atkins was a depressed-
looking man, whose chronic gloom was not lightened
by his caller's arrival. He languidly apologized for
the slight delay in receiving the visitor, and accepted
without special interest the letter Renshaw handed
him. Breaking the seal, he glanced over the note,
nodded, and extended a casual hand for the square
case. Renshaw took it out of the bag and set it on
the other's desk.
"I'm glad to have this thing off my hands," he
confessed. “I got the impression that it was rather
important.”
Atkins nodded again. “We'll take care of it,"
he sighed. As he spoke he signed a slip of paper
that had been inclosed in Madame Hvoeslef's letter,
and, putting it in an envelope, sealed the latter and
handed it over. Renshaw tucked it away in a


MISS DAISY
141
pocket with a sensation of relief. As he turned to
go, the other stopped him.
“I suppose I ought to open this and look at it,"
he murmured sadly. “But we have the only du-
plicate keys—and I understand that it has not been
out of your hands since Madame Hvoeslef gave it
to you. Is that correct ?”
"Yes."
"Then we're all right. Good morning.”
Renshaw picked up the hand-bag and turned
away. He would go back to the station, he decided,
and check the bag till train-time. Then he would
have a hair-cut and do a bit of shopping before
lunch. Also, he must not forget the revolver and
those small tools. He had reached the swinging
doors leading to the street when a voice now famil-
iar accosted him.
"Say,” it began jubilantly, “I got me stock cer-
tif'cate. An' not a drop of blood shed—not even
Frederick's !"
“That's good.” Renshaw raised his hat and
stepped back to let the girl precede him through the
door. To him their association, though hrief and
pleasant, was over—but the girl did not know this.
“Say,” she said again, "what 'll I do with me
stock certif'cate? I got it inside me bloose, an' you
c'n hear me rattle every time I take a step.”.


142
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw suppressed an impulse of irritation.
The girl was a nuisance, and he was anxious to
shake her off. Then he met the direct gaze of a
pair of very clear, honest brown eyes, and softened
toward their owner.
"You toddle right back to Madame Maurice," he
advised, "wherever her manicure parlors are, and
ask her to put your certificate in her safe till you
go home to-night—that is, of course, if you trust
her.”
"Oh, I'd trust her all right, all right. Madame 's
square, though she's the prize penny-pincher. It
makes me sick to give her another dollar o' mine.
Say,” she added earnestly, "come and have a man-
icure. You need one awful. You got nice hands,
but the cuticle's been terrible neglected. I noticed
it while we was settin' in there."
Renshaw shook his head and managed a half-
smile.
“Not to-day, thanks," he said; "I've got too
much to do.”
"It would n't take long," urged the girl, “an' if
I tol' Madame you was a customer I use t' have,
an' that I jest met you an' brought you in, pr'aps
she'd lay off me"
“And you would save a dollar?” Renshaw smiled
again, this time more naturally.


MISS DAISY
143
The girl was rather amusing and quite amazingly
pretty. Also, notwithstanding her highly unconven-
tional behavior, he felt an abysmal certainty that
she was what men call "straight.” Moreover, there
was no question that his nails needed expert atten-
tion.
"All right,” he decided aloud.
Her face lit up.
“You 'll go?" she cried, half incredulously.
"Say, you're a little bit of all right. Come on;
Madame Maurice's parlors is only three blocks
away!"
As she led him toward this haven, she vol-
unteered a few autobiographical details.
"They call me ‘Miss Daisy' at the parlors," she
explained. “But my real name 's Margaret Connor.
I like ‘Miss Daisy' better, though,” she hastened to
add; and when they reached the “parlors” she led
him into their elaborate precincts with a proudly
proprietary air.
Madame Maurice, a faded-looking woman with
bleached hair and an expression of habitual worry,
welcomed Miss Daisy's entrance with an atmos-
phere of chill, which evaporated a trifle as she took
in the tall figure in the girl's wake. Another change
also interested Renshaw. Once across the thresh-
old of the parlors, Miss Daisy's air of indiffer-


144
THE BLUE CIRCLE
ence gave place to one of almost feverish industry.
She jerked off her hat and gloves, swept her patron
into a chair at a small table, and took her place op-
posite him with a manner that was eloquent tes-
timony to the value of time. Also, she became
purely professional, and shook her head sadly over
the condition of his nails.
"All one can say for 'em is that they 're clean,”
she observed candidly. “They look like you
neglected 'em for years. An' you with such nice
hands!”
Her own nails, Renshaw observed, showed the
variations of polish exhibited by the nails of those
whose labors over them are frequently interrupted.
Miss Daisy was so depressed by the condition of
Renshaw's cuticle that she worked in silence for ten
minutes.
Renshaw's attention wandered. He forgot the
chattering voices around him, the pretty bending
head under his eyes, and the touch of the girl's
skilful fingers. His thoughts returned to Tawno
Ker and its noises and that locked door. Looked
at in retrospect, the noises seemed trivial and easily
explained. Of course there must be some natural
explanation. Several times Miss Daisy broke into
his absorption, but, finding that he did not respond,
continued her work in silence.


MISS DAISY
145
When she had finished she gave his hands back
to him, with a satisfied pat on each.
"Now you got nails you need n't be ashamed to
show to a lady," she affably observed. "If you
put a little cold cream on 'em every night—"
Renshaw checked further instructions by paying
and tipping her and rising to his feet. Under the
austere gaze of Madame Maurice, their first cordial
relation had given place to one of business formal-
ity. Nevertheless, Miss Daisy lingeringly accom- ,
panied him to the door.
“Now you found the way, come often," she
invited. Then her eyes widened with surprise as
she looked past Renshaw at a figure just behind him.
"H’lo, Hart!" she exclaimed. “What you doin'
here?”
Renshaw had turned as she spoke, in automatic
obedience to an impulse of curiosity. At first he
did not recognize in the outer hall the uniformed
figure she addressed, and the figure itself seemed to
be struggling with an impulse to scuttle away.
Then, looking into the strange eyes under the peaked
cap, he knew his man.
“Hello, Hart!” he exclaimed in surprise, and
heard himself banally echoing Miss Daisy's ques-
tion: "What are you doing here?”
Hart produced his semi-military salute.


MISS DAISY
147.
I’m to call for the ladies at the Waldorf. If you 're
ready then I'm sure they'd be”.
“Thanks, but I'm taking the train. I may not
be back till late. I'll pick up something at the
station to get me home.”
“Very good, sir.” Hart saluted and turned
away as Renshaw stepped into the waiting elevator.
Hart had taken a good deal upon himself in mak-
ing that suggestion, the secretary decided. How
did he know the ladies would be willing to take him
back in the car ? He gave a casual thought to the
"hurry call from New York” which had swung
them from their horses and into a motor for town,
but his mind did not dwell on it. He was hurry-
ing to the station to get rid of the bag he still
carried, and his thoughts were on his next move.
He left the bag with a maiden who threw in a smile
with the check, and hurriedly visited several shops,
stopping for a hair-cut on the way. Possibly Miss
Daisy was right. He had not been giving enough
thought to the details of his appearance. Also, he
made another visit with a view to settling a question
that had risen in his mind. This visit took some
time, and its result was disappointing. The man
he especially wished to see was out of town.
The little matter of buying revolvers without a
license was adjusted with an ease that almost embar-


148
THE BLUE CIRCLE
rassed him but left the seller of the weapons un-
moved. He bought two revolvers and purchased a
few small tools at the same place—dropping the
lot in his overcoat pockets with a fleeting regret for
the hand-bag. If he had had his wits about him,
he would have made his purchases before he had
checked the bag, and left them safely inside it.
However, he was now entitled to a late luncheon,
and he consumed this with considerable relish at
a restaurant he had liked in the old days. He was
leaning back, smoking a cigarette, with a mind al-
most at peace, which for him meant a mind empty
of thought, when a reflection struck him like a blow.
Its force brought him upright in his chair.
Suppose that hurry call to New York had some-
thing to do with Madame Hvoeslef's leather case?
He took out his handkerchief and wiped a fore-
head suddenly damp. As he did so, he uttered the
abrupt note that was his nearest approach to a
laugh.
Nerves, of course! It was like his infernal
nerves to go back on him now that his job was
done and he had the receipt for that package in his
pocket. He reasoned fiercely with himself while all
the time a subconscious mental process continued.
He had promised Madame Hvoeslef that the bag
should not leave his hands for one moment. He


150 THE BLUE CIRCLE
response to his frenzied correction. At last he heard
the voice of Atkins. As Renshaw spoke, this voice
took on a note of excitement.
"I'm glad you called up," it said rapidly. "Any
clue yet?"
Renshaw moistened his lips and brought out a
question. For another moment the two men talked
at cross-purposes. Then, very slowly, Renshaw's
mind took in what the other was saying. After he,
Renshaw, had left the Trust Company's offices,
Atkins had opened the square case, as a final pre-
caution before committing it to the vaults. He
paused at this moment in his recital to mention
bitterly that he should have done this before hand-
ing over a receipt. For the case, when opened,
contained only one thing—and that one thing was a
large collection of nice, clean, smooth sheets of white
writing-paper. From the poignant note Mr. Atkins'
voice took on at this point in the recital, Renshaw
further grasped the fact that the paper was not at
all what Mr. Atkins had expected to find in the
square leather case.
"I telephoned at once to Madame," Atkins went
on. Throughout, Renshaw noted, he had been care-
ful to mention no names. “Naturally, she became
very much excited"
Renshaw hung up the receiver. Atkins had told


MISS DAISY
151
him all he knew. From a certain nervous clicking
of the instrument, he suspected that Atkins desired
to continue the conversation, but he had no time for
that.
He hurried out of the building, flung himself into
a taxicab, and was driven to the Waldorf. There
he went in turn through the restaurant and Peacock
Alley, without finding the two women he sought.
He dared not ask for them—or dared he? Atkins
had been so careful about mentioning names. He
decided at last to inquire at the desk for “Miss
Campbell.” Almost anybody might be Miss Camp-
bell. Miss Campbell, he learned, was not registered
at the hotel. No, she never had been. It became
clear that the clerk hoped she never would be. The
clerk was weary of the conversation.
Renshaw returned to Peacock Alley with his prob-
lem. It was after three. Hart was to call for the
women at four. They had not registered, of course,
for luncheon. They had gone out, doubtless, after
luncheon. But they would return to the Waldorf
as a starting-point at four.
He sat down gloomily, drew his hat over his eyes
to shut out the brilliant pageant that unceasingly
swept past him, and reconciled himself to the long
wait.


CHAPTER X
TEA FOR THREE
IT seemed to Renshaw that he had been waiting
I in Peacock Alley since the beginning of time.
In reality he had been there less than half an hour
when he heard his name uttered in a cool tone that
was becoming familiar to his ears.
“Why, there's Mr. Renshaw-and he appears to
be asleep!”
He sprang to his feet, snatching off his hat as he
did so. Verity Campbell and Madame Hvoeslef
had stopped before him. For a moment the wave
of humiliation that rolled over him shut out any
appreciation of their expressions or their manner.
They must be half frantic. They must despise him
beyond words as a blundering ass—incapable even
of carrying out the simplest instructions. Well,
nothing they or any one else thought of him could
be worse than what he thought of himself.
"No," he said confusedly, “I was n't asleep. I
was trying to—” He broke off and turned directly
152


TEA FOR THREE
153
to Madame Hvoeslef. "I'm wretched about this
thing,” he said, with an actual break in his voice.
“What can I say?"
The eyes of both women were on him as he spoke,
and now, with time for clearing senses, he realized
that neither pair held the expression he had looked
for. The eyes of Verity revealed her customary
indifference, very slightly tinged with criticism.
Those of the other woman, cold at first, were soften-
ing into pity as they took in the young man's hag-
gard aspect.
“Say nothing more, Monsieur. I am distressed
that you have suffered over my affairs.” She was
smiling as she spoke, and the smile prepared him for
her next words. "Everything is—how is it said in
English ?- quite all right.'”
Renshaw's eyes sent her a flash that reminded
both women of a sudden blaze from a lighthouse
with the lifting of a fog. It was an exhibition of
hidden possibilities that startled them. Under it the
older woman's expression warmed still more, and
the tones of her throaty voice took on a quality they
had never held for him before.
• "You have been unhappy," she said. “I am so
sorry!" She took a step nearer to him as she spoke,
under an impulse to put a comforting hand on his
arm. But his glance had dropped, and her half-


154 THE BLUE CIRCLE
raised hand dropped, too. “We, also, have been
anxious,” she went on gently, “but that is past.
The case is safe in the vaults of the Trust Company.
I myself have just left it there. And this time"-
her smile extended now to her brilliant eyes—“Mr.
Atkins and I have both opened it to be sure it held
what we thought.”
Her hearer was in a state of stupefaction shot
through with indescribable relief.
"But, I don't understand,” he stammered.
"We ourselves do not understand. I can tell you
only what has happened. When Mr. Atkins tele-
phoned, we were riding. Hart came for us in the
car. I was—” she stopped as if almost overcome
by the memory of what that moment had been—"I
was in despair,” she went on quietly. "I rushed to
my room to change for the train. And there, on
my bed, was my leather case-and in it, quite safe,
when I unlocked it, was—what I had put there."
“Then-you mean—you had two cases? You
gave me the wrong one?”
He was trying to follow her, but something
seemed wrong with his mind. She shook her head.
“No; and that is what we do not comprehend. I
had one case only, the original case, made for me
in”-she stopped—“in Europe," she ended abruptly.
"Some one else has made another case exactly like


TEA FOR THREE
155
it. We can understand why this was done. But
why the original case and its contents were returned
to me, after the trouble and expense of dupli-
cating it—that, Monsieur, we cannot follow at
all.”
Renshaw at last took in the two points that were
important.
“Then your property is safe—and I delivered the
case you gave me?” he asked slowly.
"We think so. For Mr. Atkins told us it was not
for one moment out of your hands. It must have
been changed in my room before I brought it to you,
though I had for it a strong chest with a combination
lock.”
Renshaw shot his glance over the heads of the
passing pageant and frowned reflectingly. The case
had been out of his hands for a moment—and there
was that episode of the locked door still to be ex-
plained. But he felt no impulse to mention these
details. The aloof and critical presence of Verity
Campbell, gazing absent-eyed at the throng and
ignoring his presence as if he were part of the
atmosphere, checked any revelations he might have
been willing to make to the foreigner. The black
leather case and its contents were safe. His courage
clung to the life-line of that knowledge. When he
got back to Tawno Ker, he would take up and try


156
THE BLUE CIRCLE
to work out the tangle of the freakish and unprofit-
able exchange.
“So now," Madame Hvoeslef added comfortably,
“we will all have a cup of tea. My affairs have
caused you a bad hour, Monsieur. I deeply regret
this. Let us try to forget it.”
She was already leading the way into the Palm
Room as she spoke, leaving the young man no choice
save to follow her. He did so, inwardly fuming.
He had no wish to drink tea with Miss Campbell, to
watch her brilliant eyes look past him, to study anew
the slightly superior line of her perfect upper lip.
In the Palm Room, however, quite unconsciously
and partly from sheer force of old-time habit, he
quietly put the others in the position of being his
guests.
The waiter who came to take their order recalled
Renshaw with rapture, not only as a patron of the
past, but apparently as a loved and lost ideal. From
the moment of the reunion he saw no one but
Renshaw, heard no voice save his. He revealed
a perfect memory for Renshaw's tastes in those
former days. He brought unbidden the cigarettes
the latter had always smoked; and Madame Hvoes-
lef, with a sigh of content, joined her host in the
enjoyment of these when they had eaten their toast
and a special English tea-cake to which, it appeared


TEA FOR THREE
157
from the waiter's respectful reminiscences, the
gentleman had once been strongly addicted.
Verity limited her participation in the social
function to the aloof drinking of a cup of tea. An
occasional eye-flash alone showed that she was not
missing the unexpected high-lights thrown on her
grand father's new secretary by this encounter with
a former servitor. The waiter, indeed, had diffi-
culty in giving his attention to any one else in the
room. He was a young man, and an openly devoted
and grateful one. It became clear that Renshaw
must have done him some especially good turns for
which a life exclusively devoted to serving him with
his favorite tea-cake could hardly be sufficient recom-
pense. The man's pale face actually shone in the
joy of the reunion, to which he was so eagerly lend-
ing himself that he failed to observe a noticeable
lack of response on the other's part. Perfectly
trained servant though he was, he could not see the
barrier Renshaw hastened to erect between the past
and the present. Again and again the agile Henri
scaled that invisible wall.
When Renshaw was paying the bill, Henri looked
up at him with the eyes of an adoring collie.
"And Madame Vandewater?” he ventured to in-
quire. “She is well, I trust?”
Renshaw's hand closed on the bank-note and check


158 THE BLUE CIRCLE
in his hand with a force that whitened the knuckles.
The change in his face startled both women.
"My sister," he said slowly, “died two years ago.”
"Oh, Monsieur! That beautiful woman! I beg
your pardon—I did not know-I was in France, in
the army—I am only just back—".
The boy was stammering, lending himself to the
emotional promptings of his French temperament.
Upon his incoherence the words of Renshaw fell
like sudden sleet.
"Henri, will you be good enough to pull yourself
together and fetch the change?"
Henri's slender figure cowered as if under a blow.
He took the bank-note and check without another
word and disappeared. Renshaw helped the ladies
into their coats, and was struggling into his own
when Henri returned. He accepted the man's
assistance, waved away the proffered change, and
sent a straight look into his eyes that closed Henri's
mouth as effectively as a gag could have done it.
Verity, taking in the scene with the brilliant,
indifferent glances that saw everything, observed
that Henri followed the party of three to the door
of the Palm Room, and rightly suspected that he
watched the tall figure of Renshaw till it was out of
sight. She was oddly impressed by the whole in-
cident: by the naturalness with which Renshaw


TEA FOR THREE
159
had put her and Madame Hvoeslef into the position
of his guests, by the unabashed adoration of Henri,
by the glimpse of a tragedy behind a door so quickly
shut-above all, by the sudden revelation of force
in this man she had half-consciously despised as a
weakling. The impression of strength faded when
the three reëntered the famous corridor.
"You will drive back with us, Monsieur Ren-
shaw?" Madame Hvoeslef made the suggestion,
taking for granted Verity's approval of the invita-
tion. Renshaw hesitated. His self-consciousness
had again settled over him like a tight-fitting gar-
ment, trimmed with indecision.
"I—I hardly know," he stammered. “Yes, I
suppose I might as well—if you have room for
me-and if you have time to stop at the station for
my bag—"
He was looking at Verity now, and for once she
met his glance. There was a new element in her
own. It was perhaps less cordiality than the ab-
sence of her usual indifference. Whatever it was,
it was human. So, too, was her reply.
"Of course we have room,” she said carelessly.
“We came in the limousine.”
• He followed them in silence to that luxurious
vehicle. Hart and a strange chauffeur stood to-
gether beside it, lost to their surroundings in the


TEA FOR THREE
161
streets, stopping at the station for Renshaw's bag.
Twice the new chauffeur was the object of
winged rebukes from traffic policemen. He seemed
not to know the traffic rules as well as he knew the
car and the road. Indeed, Renshaw soon began to
suspect that he did not know even these as well as
Hart's encomium would lead one to believe. Several
times he hesitated at turns. Also, the gears of the
car protested raucously each time he shifted them.
Madame Hvoeslef talked in her casual, charming
way, with a new and intriguing note of friendliness,
and Renshaw responded. He was conscious of an
increased and growing liking for this polished prod-
uct of another land. He even ceased to resent her
air of mystery. Certainly she had been a thorough-
bred to-day in the consideration she had shown him;
and apparently she had left her atmosphere of
mystery in the safe-deposit box with her recovered
treasure. Above all, he admired the tact with which
she avoided all allusion to her own affairs or to his.
One need not be on one's guard with her or with
the Campbells. She and they were not the sort who
asked questions, direct or indirect. One explana-
tion of this, of course, in addition to their breeding
-his subconscious reflections went on—was their
indifference. They had no desire to know anything
about him. They were not interested. To them he


162
THE BLUE CIRCLE
was almost as impersonal as a disembodied spirit.
As he thought of these things, and talked of
others, he found himself watching Verity. They
had not turned on the electric light, but he could
distinctly see the pale oval of her face directly across
from him in the car's dim interior. A new realiza-
tion of her unusual beauty swept over him as he
watched it. Her profile was turned toward him as
she stared out into the gathering night. With
perhaps one exception, she was the most beautiful
woman he had ever known. He thanked God that
no resemblance between the two was there to remind
him of the exception. He could not have endured
that.
A sudden jolt startled him, then another. The
car had lurched and recovered itself. The first
snowfall of the season was beginning, and very soon
the heavy flakes were coming down so thickly as to
cloud vision. The new chauffeur was having diffi-
culty in keeping to the road.
Suddenly Renshaw leaned forward and addressed
the girl.
"Miss Campbell,” he said crisply, “this fellow
does n't know how to drive. Do you mind if I get
out and take the wheel?”
Verity looked startled. In her absorption it was


TEA FOR THREE
163
clear that she had not observed the jolts or the
driver's repeated hesitation at cross-roads.
"Why, are n't we almost there?” she asked,
vaguely looking about her.
"No; we're not much more than half way. And
it's snowing hard, and the new man does n't know
the road. There are some nasty spots between here
and Tawno Ker.” Renshaw's voice grew more in-
cisive. "I really think you'd better let me drive,"
he finished.
For a few seconds Verity was silent. When she
spoke, her words revealed the character of her
thoughts.
“Drive, by all means," she murmured, "if you
would feel more comfortable.”
Renshaw felt the blood rush to his head. The
remark itself he accepted as an insult. Also, it re-
minded him of something he had forgotten. His
muscles grew lax under the impulse to sit back and
let the ass at the wheel ditch them all, if he had to.
Then, quietly, he tapped on the window to stop the
car, and when the driver obeyed the signal, he got
out and raised the young man from his seat with a
single and compelling gesture.
"It's so thick you can't see,” he said casually, as
he took the wheel. “I know the road.”


TEA FOR THREE
165
away. Don't forget this.” He was still holding
out the bill, and at last the man took it.
“Oh, all right,” he said grumpily, “if that's the
way you feel about it. I was only tryin' to help out
a pal."
"Very creditable of you, I'm sure. Good night."
Renshaw started the car, but his eyes were on the
man. “Toddle right into the nice warm station,”
he advised.
The man drifted languidly toward the station
door. He had thrust the bill into his pocket, and he
seemed annoyed but philosophic. Shut away from
the drift of the conversation, though within sound
of the men's voices, the two inside the limousine
watched the scene.
"He's sending him back to New York,” Verity
interpreted, with a flush of annoyance. “That
young man is taking a great deal upon himself. If
I had realized what he meant to do—”.
She stopped to give an appreciative mind to the
perfection of Renshaw's driving. It was as per-
fect a thing as Hart's, and this was superlative
praise.
"He can drive, anyway,” she conceded.
Both women became silent, Verity with her
thoughts, the foreigner unconsciously following the
unwritten European code, which rules that it is


166
THE BLUE CIRCLE
usually a waste of time for women to talk in the
absence of men.
The limousine stopped with a jerk. Renshaw
leaped from his place and hurried around to the back
of the car. Opening the door and leaning out to
discover what had happened, Verity caught his
words. They were a trifle hurried. He had pur-
sued for a few feet and had caught something
that was vigorously protesting against the cap-
ture.
“Come, now,” said Renshaw. “This is getting
annoying, you know. You 're a lot keener on that
maid than I thought you were.”
"Leggo me,” responded another breathless but
urgent voice.
The owner of the voice seemed to be getting a
violent shaking. His words came out in gasps that
suggested this. By looking through the window at
the rear, Verity now had an excellent moving pic-
ture of the scene.
· "The chauffeur we thought we left at the station
merely ran after the car and hung on," she reported
to Madame Hvoeslef. Both received the full benefit
of Renshaw's next words:
"I'm inclined to give you a good thrashing."
“Aw, come off; I 'll beat it," the other hopefully
suggested.


TEA FOR THREE
167
“All right. Let's see how fast you can beat it
down that road.”
The fellow started, but his movements were not
swift enough to satisfy the exacting observer. The
latter gave an order, and made a movement as if to
follow him, and the man broke into a lope. For a
minute or two Renshaw watched him, till the
running form was lost to view. Then, abruptly
shutting the car door, and ignoring his passengers
as absolutely as if they were not there, he resumed
his place at the wheel and the car swept on through
the storm.
In the driveway leading up to Tawno Ker, Verity
spoke for the first time in half an hour.
"Mr. Renshaw takes entirely too much upon him-
self,” she observed between set teeth.
The words were addressed as much to herself as
to the other woman. Madame Hvoeslef answered
them with a polite confirmatory murmur that ended
in a confidence.
“But nevertheless I am becoming interested in this
new secretary, my dear. It grows clear to me as I
watch him that he is not what we thought at first,
slow-minded and a little dull. I think,” she thought-
fully added, “your Monsieur Renshaw has some-
where in him a good deal of a man."


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 169
However, he was, in a way, prepared for these.
He had two pistols now, and the other articles he
had bought. The pistols were loaded and ready.
In one way the fact was reassuring. In another it
disturbed him. Of course, a pistol was not an
especially good thing to have around. If, indeed,
there happened to be some irresponsible creature
about the place, and if it found a pistol, it might do
a lot of mischief. Moreover, he himself did not
wish to do any impulsive shooting and subsequently
and bitterly regret it. He began to feel that he had
made a mistake in buying the pistols. If he hid
them, the irresponsible thing might find them. If
he carried them, he himself might use them on im-
pulse or in a panic; he himself might become an
irresponsible thing-
The perspiration broke out on his forehead. The
pistols had become a responsibility. He was
tempted to empty them and hurl them out of the
window amid the thick shrubbery below. He con-
sidered hiding them in his trunk. He ended by hid-
ing one there and slipping the other into a pocket of
his evening trousers. It was a very small, unobtru-
sive pistol. He had been careful to select that kind.
And undoubtedly it would be safer in his hands than
in the dark and sinister hand he had seen through
his transom window the night before.


170
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Dinner that night was again almost gay. Madame
Hvoeslef was her most engaging self. Evidently,
with the transference of the black leather case to the
Trust Company's vaults a great weight had rolled
off her mind. Verity and David Campbell responded
to her mood. Soft ripples of laughter swept the
table, laughter in which Renshaw did not join but
which he subconsciously enjoyed.
It was rather wonderful to hear Verity Campbell
laugh, and he had not realized that her beautiful but
rather cold face could be so warmed and illumined
as he saw it now. Her laugh was delicious-soft,
low, and full of mirth. Though he did not join in
the quiet badinage that went on among the three, he
at least succeeded in adapting himself to the new
atmosphere. He wore the look of quiet interest and
acquiescence which was, they had observed, his
happiest expression.
Into his ear, Mrs. Pardee poured her plaintive
monologue. The light mood of the rest meant
nothing to her, nor would a deep depression in those
around have disturbed her. Under the jewels that
rested on her bosom was a heart that did not live.
Mrs. Pardee had been buried for many years, but
she had never discovered the fact. Still stirring
feebly in her coffin, she fancied herself alive.
"It was a great risk to go to New York in the


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 171
midst of the epidemic,” she was saying, "and I can
only hope you won't feel any ill effects you don't
feel as if you had caught any germs do you though
of course you could n't tell so soon yet sometimes
the disease develops very swiftly I had a friend who
was perfectly well at dinner and was stricken in the
middle of the night and died in forty-eight hours
no hope from the first the doctors said as soon as I
heard of it I sent to town for a pair of rubbers
something I had never used before but even walking
on the garden paths is dangerous now so I knew it
was well to have them though I mislaid them the
day after they came that is David thinks I mislaid
them.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “What I
think is that Annie borrowed them and found them
so convenient one hesitates to say anything definite
of course but really rubbers don't walk off by them-
selves as I have told David a dozen times.”
Renshaw expressed sympathy in the tragedy of
the rubbers. He was listening to Mrs. Pardee but
looking at Verity, and as he looked his dislike of her
and his inner masculine resentment of her cool self-
sufficiency gave place to his first impulse of genuine
admiration. Something like admiration had stirred
in him when he watched her play with We-wee. He
began to realize that the beautiful Miss Campbell
had two sides. That was disturbing. With the


172
THE BLUE CIRCLE
discovery of an attractive side, he could not lend
himself to the whole-hearted disapproval of her
which he had expected and desired to feel.
Her singing after dinner strengthened this con-
viction. It, too, reflected her new mood. The
Slavic songs to which heretofore she and Madame
Hvoeslef had largely confined themselves made way
to-night for French and Spanish numbers, in which
the predominating theme of love was wedded to that
of joy.
Listening in his corner, Renshaw felt his lip curl
a trifle. Much that girl knew about love! The
foreigner knew. There was a woman who had
loved and lived and died a few times and been born
again, always with a heart attuned to life and the
master hand. She must have had many lovers.
She was the type whose inner fires were fierce and
consuming—and soon exhausted, and readily re-
plenished. He wondered what she and Miss Camp-
bell talked about when they were alone. Certainly
not about love! The foreigner was too sophisticated
to permit Verity Campbell's clear eyes to rest on
any untidy pages in her book of life.
Looking at Madame Hvoeslef now, Renshaw
speculated impersonally as to the types of men who
would appeal to her. They would be much alike,
he decided, the subtle, artistic sort-sensitive, emo-


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 173
Campbell, on the hond thoughts
hair. With-
tional men, whose strength would lie in their weak-
ness; men who would make the woman feel that
they needed her, and whose love-making would be
a fine art. He knew such men and had despised
them in the days when he was capable of robust
emotions. But they were unquestionably the type
Madame Hvoeslef would briefly but intensely love.
Miss Campbell, on the other hand-
He recalled his vagabond thoughts with a sudden-
ness that brought him upright in his chair. With-
out analyzing his reasons, he felt that speculation as
to the possible lovers of the foreigner was, in a way,
pardonable. Certainly he had indulged in it without
the sense of recoil he now felt. The recoil merged
into a grim amusement at his own expense. He
was making progress, he was getting back in touch
with life, when he found himself speculating about
women! He resolutely centered his thoughts on the
black leather case.
He went up to his room at eleven o'clock. Be-
fore he opened the door he stood for a moment in
front of it, silently studying the lock. It was a good
lock, but an ordinary one. A trifle he had bought
in town would effectually prevent it from being
locked from the outside. He entered his room and
inserted this trifle into the keyhole, nodding with
satisfaction as he did so. No one outside could lock


174
THE BLUE CIRCLE
his door to-night. On the other hand, neither could
he himself lock it. He drew forward a chair, in-
serted its back under the door-knob, and so placed it
that a certain effort would be required to push the
door open. He could not be taken wholly by
surprise. After these simple preparations, he read
and smoked for a time. Then, with a sense of
expectation mingled with other emotions, in which
excitement, resentment, anxiety, and nervousness
predominated in turn, he undressed, got into bed,
and turned out the lights, putting one of the new
revolvers under his pillow, but within immediate
reach, as the final precaution for an interesting vigil.
He waited with taut nerves. It was almost mid-
night, time for the nocturnal activities of the Thing
to begin. He desired, yet dreaded, the heavy thump
that would announce its presence. It was due, past
due. After a time he became annoyed. This wait-
ing got on one's nerves. Why did n't the Thing
come and have its visit over? Then perhaps he
could go to sleep.
But first there were several little matters to attend
to. His whole body was braced for these. At the
first sound of that thump, he meant to leap noise-
lessly from his bed and creep to his door. As soon
as he heard the sounds announcing the Thing's
nearer approach, he would fling open the door and


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 175
spring out upon whatever was there. After that,
well, after that he would at least know what he was
up against.
The clock on his mantel struck twelve. The
sounds seemed to shatter the silence of the old house
like hammer strokes. The clock struck one. His
tension had imperceptibly relaxed. He was almo'st
convinced that nothing would happen. Possibly the
Thing did not roam about every night. Possibly
it would never roam about again. Probably it had
been shut up, confined-
He closed his eyes, and swiftly opened them
again. Something had touched them, passed them,
and was focused on the wall. It was the blue circle
-and this time he studied it closely. It was a circle
about the size of a silver dime. Its blue color was
a singularly vivid hue. It danced and quivered on
the wall beside him, so close to him that he could
put up his hand and touch it. As he did so, it
vanished and the familiar darkness of the room
closed around him.
He lay still and for the first time seriously tried
to explain the circle to himself. It was, of course,
as he had held from the first, a reflection from some-
where, from something. That wise conclusion was
still obvious. But from where? From what?
Outside lay the wild night. The snow he had


176 THE BLUE CIRCLE
wn was
driven through from town was turning to sleet that
hissed against his window-panes, driven by a rising
wind. And Tawno Ker was two miles from a
neighbor.
The visiting light appeared again. It was as
feverishly active now as it had been motionless on
its previous visits. It touched his face, fitted about,
and came to rest on the footboard of his bed. It
touched his hand, and flew to the opposite wall. It
played about his lips and leaped to the door leading
to the hall, where it glowed silently on a panel.
Renshaw watched it with a gaze that shifted when
it did. It fascinated him, but even yet did not
especially disturb him. It was merely something
unusual, and he was trying to understand it. Its
activities continued and increased. It Aitted about
the room like a will-o'-the-wisp, touching many
objects, but now showing a special preference for
his eyes. Its flash was rather blinding. If he
closed his eyes, it lingered on the lids till he reopened
them. Its character changed. It had been inter-
esting at first. It became annoying, like the repeated
attacks of one mosquito on a hot night. It became
more than annoying. It became first infuriating
and at last simply devilish.
He rose and, going in turn to the room's four
windows, stared out at each. With his movement


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 177
the light disappeared. He could see nothing outside
but the storm and the tortured, wind-flung branches
of oaks and maples. He went to his door, opened
it, and glanced down the dark corridor. No sound
or movement there rewarded him. He closed the
door, replaced the chair-back under the knob, and
returned to his bed. As soon as he was comfortably
settled, the blue ball entered, touched his face, and
danced for a moment on the wall. Then suddenly
it grew quiet and remained fixed in one spot, like a
watchful and infernal blue eye.
Renshaw drew a deep breath. That blue circle
was rather uncanny. It was becoming an inde-
scribable nuisance. He ought to do something about
it, but what could he do? He could not exactly
arouse the house. And David Campbell himself
had told him that everything in the house was all
right. He clung to this assurance; but he had begun
to feel that even the presence and movements of the
Thing would be preferable to that odd, impish light.
It drew his eyes, yet he hated to look at it. He
shifted his position, and the blue eye moved to the
foot of the bed. He turned again, and it took its
position on the opposite wall. One new peculiarity
of it now interested him. The blue circle remained
quiet as long as he faced it. When he turned, it
hastened to face him. He considered this phenom-


178
THE BLUE CIRCLE
enon, moving and twisting experimentally. His
conclusion had been right. The blue circle was an
eye on him. It did not intend to let him escape it. ·
The clock struck two, the deep-toned strokes
sounding ominous in the darkness. Two o'clock!
And he had been on the edge of his nerves since
eleven! That sort of thing would not do-it simply
could not be endured. To-morrow he would tell
Campbell that he, Renshaw, must go away, that he
was not up to the work. But no, that would not do,
either. He had already shown that he was up to
the work. Campbell had referred at dinner 'to a
lot of things to be done the next day. Well, then,
he could say he was not in as good condition as he
had imagined.
A sudden memory seared his consciousness. He
could not resign! He had no situation to resign-
simply because he had refused a situation. He was
not his own master. He was, for a year, David
Campbell's property, bought and, in part, actually
paid for. On the morning of the day that had only
just ended, Campbell had given him a generous ad-
vance on the purchase price; and the greater part of
that advance he, Renshaw, had already spent in
town. Even assuming that he was willing to break
the gentleman's agreement he and Campbell had
entered into, he must work a month to pay off the


THE BLUE CIRCLE RETURNS 179
obligation imposed by that advance. In other
words, he was a fixture here. He could not leave.
Throughout his deliberations the blue circle faced
him—a fixed and sinister orb. Now, as if content
with his conclusion and his prolonged stillness, it
winked and vanished. His heart pounded as he
waited for its return, at first with conviction, then
with a growing uncertainty tinged with hope.
It did not return. It was a long time before he
dared to believe that it would not return. The
clock had struck three before he ventured to number
the blue circle among the things that had passed, and
half an hour more went by before he felt the impulse
to sleep.
His eyes had closed and he had almost lo'st con-
sciousness, when he heard a noise in the hall. It
was not the familiar thump, nor was it the equally
abhorrent sound of crawling. It was the sound of
footsteps— light and running. There was also the
sound of hurried, excited breathing and of a rap on
his door. He sprang out of bed and hastened to
open it, disturbed yet reassured by the rap. It was
alarmed, but it was normal. He threw open the
door and stared incredulously. Verity Campbell
stood before him in the darkness. He could not see
her, but he knew her even before she spoke to him
in a voice hushed and terrified.


CHAPTER XII
A MESSAGE
D ENSHAW nodded and stepped back into his
K room.
“One moment,” he said, "and I will be with you."
He thrust his feet into slippers and pulled a
dressing-gown over his pajamas, knotting the cords
of the robe as he rejoined her. He had to run to
catch up with her. Having summoned him, she
was almost at the end of the corridor when she felt
him beside her. As they hurried past the central
hall landing and into the west wing of the house,
he asked a low-toned question or two. She replied
in a voice that trembled. It was clear that she was
panic-stricken, but making a supreme effort at self-
control.
"Madame Hvoeslef is with him,” she said. "I
called her first, when I could not get the servants.
I can't imagine what has happened to Jenks. He
is so reliable and faithful. But Aunt Katharine
says they take a car and go into town sometimes at
181


182
THE BLUE CIRCLE
night, and perhaps she is right, though I never
thought so.”
"What 's the matter with your grandfather?”
Renshaw's long, swinging stride was easily keep-
ing pace now with her shorter steps.
"I don't know. I heard a fall. His bedroom is
next to mine, you know. I thought I heard a groan.
I ran out in the hall to his door and knocked.
When there was no answer, I went in. He was
lying in his bedroom, on the floor.”
“Hurt? Unconscious ?”
"I don't know. I ran for help for Jenks first,
then, when I could n't find him, for Madame Hvoes-
lef. Auntie is of no use, of course, in a crisis,
so we did n't even wake her.”
She was talking more quietly now, as if to re-
assure herself by the steadiness of her own voice;
but she stopped as they reached what was evidently
the door of the old man's bedroom, and passed
through in silence, leaving the door open for Ren-
shaw to follow her.
His first impression was one of shock at the seem-
ing lifelessness of the prone figure on the floor, over
which Madame Hvoeslef was distractedly keeping
guard. Her dark face lighted up with relief as the
young man joined her.
"I have not ventured to do anything,” she ex-


A MESSAGE
183
plained in a quick whisper. “He breathes; but I
did not know if it would be wise to lift his head—”
Renshaw knelt beside his master, and his heart
lightened. He had been afraid of violence, even of
tragedy. Anything, he now believed, might happen
in Tawno Ker. But seemingly what had happened
was common enough. The old man had felt ill,
had risen, had perhaps tried to call for help, and
had fallen unconscious.
"What is it?"
Verity asked the question in a whisper. The
young man went on with his hurried examination.
“A shock, I'm afraid.”
"Is he-dying?”
“No—no, indeed. He's unconscious, but his
heart is working well. The first thing to do is to
make him comfortable."
He lifted the light figure in his arms as easily as
if it had been the body of a child, and carrying it
to the bed laid it between the sheets, drawing the
bed-clothing carefully up around it.
"We've got to get a doctor here in a jiffy," he
muttered. "And can't we stir up some of those
servants—”
He was interrupted by the appearance of Jenks,
who had knocked unheard and entered. He hur-
ried to his master's side with an expression of acute


184
THE BLUE CIRCLE
concern on his round face. He was slippered and
collarless, but, though obviously greatly excited, he
had himself well in hand. He was ready for duty
-the highly efficient servant on the job.
“The doctor, sir?” he said, answering Renshaw's
words before the latter had finished speaking. “I
will telephone to Wainley at once. There's a very
good doctor there, I've heard-Doctor Morris.
Then I will get Doctor Stanley on the telephone-
unless there's something more urgent here, sir ?”
"No. Tell the local man to bring a nurse, if he
can find one. And get in touch with Doctor Stan-
ley as soon as you can.”
Jenks disappeared. Renshaw rendered to the un-
conscious man such first aid as his experience sug-
gested. When he had done the little that could
safely be done, he turned to Verity.
“You would better get into something warmer,"
he said gently. "I will keep watch here.”
She looked surprised, then glanced down at her-
self and slowly flushed. Her unstockinged feet
were in low, heelless slippers. A light silk dressing-
gown had been hastily thrown over her sheer night-
gown. Her black hair, in two long heavy braids,
hung almost to her knees. Renshaw glanced at
Madame Hvoeslef, whose general appearance was
similar to Verity's, and the look included the for-


A MESSAGE
185
cigner in his suggestion. Both women hastened to
obey it, hurrying out of the room with a little furry
of self-consciousness.
Renshaw sat beside the bed and studied the pa-
tient. He was in for a vigil. It might be an
hour before the Wainley man could be aroused and
reach Tawno Ker; and several hours at least before
Doctor Stanley would get to the side of his old
friend, even if he made the immediate effort that
could be expected of him. In the meantime, there
was nothing a layman could do. He raised the
closed eyelids of the old man, looked again at the
congested pupils of the eyes, and shook his head.
Jenks stole into the room, and Renshaw was con-
scious of a feeling of infinite relief in the support
of his efficient presence. Mentally, for the moment
at least, he held Jenks between himself and the
storm as if the efficient butler had been an umbrella.
"Doctor Morris will be here in less than an hour,
sir,” Jenks reported. “And I got Doctor Stanley,
too. He will start as soon as he is dressed. That
ought to get him here before daylight." He drew
nearer the bed. "What is it, sir?” he added in a
whisper. "A stroke?”
"I'm afraid so. It looks like it. Better stir up
James. There may be things to do."
"'I have done so, sir. Hart's here, too."


186
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw stared.
“Hart?” he repeated. “We left him in town.”
“Yes, sir. It was his unexpected return that got
me out of bed. His room is in the garage, and I
had the key; he had to call me to get in. He came
out on the one-o'clock train, thinking we might need
him in the morning, since you had sent his friend
back to town.”
Renshaw was mildly amused. He could picture
the pair talking him over in the chauffeur's room
in the garage, Jenks enough interested in Hart's
revelations and resentment to forgive the interrup-
tion to his slumbers. No doubt Hart was furious
over the interruption to his "pers'nal” business.
Just the same, it was a good thing he had come back.
There would be all sorts of things to do to-morrow.
“Well, we may need him. I'm glad he's back.”
"Anything more I can do, sir?" The anxious
eyes of Jenks were on the unconscious face of his
master.
"No, thanks. Just be ready, within reach.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jenks left the room. As he was about to close
the door behind him, Verity returned. The black
braids of her hair were coiled around her head in
heavy twists. She was stockinged and slippered,
and she wore a deep-flame-colored garment, simple


A MESSAGE
187
but beautiful, which Renshaw vaguely classified as
a tea-gown. He rose as she crossed the room and
stood at his side. Her lips quivered as she looked
down at the mask on the pillow.
“You don't think he will die, do you?" she whis-
pered.
“No; I think he has a good chance to get over
this."
He drew a chair close to the bed for her, and the
girl took it.
"I sent Leoni back to bed,” she explained.
“There was nothing she could do.”
"No; there's nothing any of us can do, for the
present.”
"He was so happy at dinner,” she said brokenly.
She leaned forward, brooding over the sick man,
and Renshaw watched her with growing sympathy.
She was showing him still another facet of her
many-sided nature. There was, he knew, a very
beautiful relation between her and her grandfather,
who, moreover, seemed the only prop in her life.
She would be lost without him, even though she
might be, as she seemed, too self-sufficient to need
a prop. Possibly she could go on if this one were
withdrawn; but she would certainly suffer great
loneliness-
She turned and looked at him. It was a new


188
THE BLUE CIRCLE
look, odd, direct, and, for the first time, personal.
She not only saw him: she looked below the surface
of him.
"You have been very kind, Mr. Renshaw," she
said, and added simply: "it is a comfort to know
you are here."
For a moment he did not answer. He could not.
The few words had given him a sensation as new
as the one her look had aroused. Under them his
heart grew warm, his soul seemed to stretch its
wings. She had ceased to despise him. She was
turning to him in her trouble. And though she had
despised him but a short day ago, though she turned
to him now only because there was no one else to
turn to, something deep in the man responded.
It was merely the stirring of former impulses and
ideals, but it meant that there was convalescence for
more than one sick man in that quiet room.
"You may be sure I will do all I can," he said at
last; and under the words lay the force of a new
resolution.
For a long time they sat side by side in silence.
Occasionally Renshaw rose and bent over the bed,
watching Campbell's eyes and pulse. At the end of
forty minutes the sound of an approaching motor
announced the arrival of the doctor from Wainley.


A MESSAGE
189
Almost immediately that welcome personage was in
the sick-room, removing his gloves and shaking the
last of the snow from his coat sleeves as he came.
With a mere nod to the two watchers, he hurried
to the side of his new patient.
Renshaw assisted in the examination that fol-
lowed, and answered the physician's curt profes-
sional questions. Doctor Morris, though a country
practitioner, appeared to be a man who knew his
business. Nevertheless, he was obviously relieved
when he learned that another man, the distinguished
Doctor Stanley of New York, would arrive later to
take charge of the case.
Under his care the patient began to breath more
normally. Renshaw called Verity's attention to the
fact, and tried to persuade her to go back to her
room and rest. But the girl shook her head. She
had taken her grandfather's left hand, and though
he had not yet opened his eyes he seemed subcon-
sciously aware of the human contact. When it re-
laxed he was restless; its renewal quieted him.
Observing this, the girl settled herself in the big
chair for a long watch; and Renshaw, understand-
ing and now approving her purpose, made her as
comfortable as he could by propping cushions
behind her and under her extended arm.


A MESSAGE
191
The drawn lines in the fine old face relaxed. The
lids fell over the congested eyes. The patient
showed utter exhaustion, combined with the content
of one who has carried out a vital purpose.


CHAPTER XIII
THE VIGIL
VITHAT did he mean?”
It was Verity who asked the question half
an hour later, when it became clear that the old
man's soul had again drifted far out upon some
uncharted sea. But he was breathing more nat-
urally and the drawn lines of his face had almost
disappeared.
"I don't quite know. I've been thinking about
it.” Renshaw's absent tones proved that he was
still thinking about it.
"It was natural enough for him to ask you to
take charge. That is what he would do.” Verity
spoke with proud humility. “But what did he mean
by telling you to 'watch'?”.
Renshaw looked at her with a throb of pity.
She was no longer a self-contained and slightly ar-
rogant young person. She was merely a girl in
deep trouble. She should have no suspicion, he
decided, of the sinister undercurrents at Tawno Ker.
"Was n't it, perhaps," he suggested, "a subcon-
192


A MESSAGE
193
scious association with Madame Hvoeslef's leather
case? Were n't you all rather anxious until that
was safe?"
Her face cleared at once.
"That was it, I think. It must have been. He
had felt a sense of responsibility; we all had. Yes,”
—she was thinking it out as she spoke,-"that must
have been it."
"And of course the responsibility is over now,"
Renshaw reminded her.
He had risen and was changing the position of
her arm as he spoke, knowing by the expression of
her face that the muscles had become cramped. He
had to touch her arm to do this—the soft, beautiful
young arm from which the winglike sleeve had
fallen back. He raised it very gently, but as im-
personally as a physician would have performed the
little service. Indeed, he was not thinking of the
arm at all, and the relief he offered it was merely
instinctive. His thoughts were on the old man's
words.
How much did David Campbell know? What
had happened in that room before he fell? Had he
heard the Thing? Had it, perhaps, extended its
activities to Campbell's wing of the house? Had
he seen the blue circle? And was his present con-
dition the result of the excitement following these


194 THE BLUE CIRCLE
causes? Or was it only the result of some physical
condition due to the old man's age? Renshaw
wanted to think that it was—it was so natural a
theory and explained everything so' satisfactorily.
And the episode of the leather case explained that
urgent warning.
To a man of Campbell's nature—so Renshaw's
subconscious thoughts went on—there must have
been something peculiarly trying in the mystery
with which the foreigner surrounded that case, in
the melodrama of her personal attitude toward it.
Campbell's manner had been self-conscious, indeed
almost sheepish, when he had confessed that mat-
ters were "a little unusual" just now, and had baldly
added that he was counting on Renshaw's discretion
to ignore them. He would not have wanted them
ignored if they had been of a serious nature, de-
manding action on Renshaw's part. Yet now Ren-
shaw was urged to watchfulness. The secretary
recalled the old man's cheerfulness at dinner the
night before. Campbell had shared the high spirits
of Verity and his guest. The whole atmosphere at
the table had been that of sudden and vivid relief
from tension. Yes, that was it. In its struggle
back to momentary consciousness, the old fellow's
mind had not been wholly clear. He had not
remembered that the leather case was out


THE VIGIL
195
of his house and safe in the care of others.
And yet—that warning! That gasped-out,
poignant warning, stammered in such agony by
those stiff lips. The secretary's reflections, having
swung around a circle, were back at the starting-
point. Only two things in the whole queer business
were certain: he, Renshaw, would "watch," and he
would "take charge.”
He experienced an impersonal relief as he re-
called Miss Campbell's attitude in the matter. She
was usually so poised, so sufficient, that she might
naturally have resented the authority put into a
stranger's hands-into hands, moreover, that she
herself had openly distrusted, and might still dis-
trust after she got over the first effects of her alarm.
If she did—if, as the days passed, she tried to inter-
fere- But he did not believe she would. She had
heard her grandfather's command. Whether or not
she eventually resented it, she would almost cer-
tainly obey it. Its only effect might be to make her
dislike Renshaw more, which he firmly assured him-
self would be an unimportant detail.
In speculating about her possible future attitude,
he had forgotten her actual presence now. He was
recalled to consciousness of it by the sudden knowl-
edge that her eyes were urgently upon him. She
must have been trying for several minutes to attract


196 THE BLUE CIRCLE
r
his attention. He was sitting in a chair near the
foot of the bed, and she was not directly in his line
of vision. He rose and went to her side.
"Could you get me a glass of water ?” Her lips
noiselessly framed the words.
He nodded, and hurried into the adjoining bath-
room for the water, bringing it back immediately.
She took it with her free hand and drank it quickly.
He observed now that she was very pale.
"Miss Campbell,” he said in an urgent undertone,
"I wish you would go to your room and sleep.
You have been under a big strain, and you are
beginning to show it. Please go, if only for a few
hours. I will watch here, of course; and I promise
to call you if there is the slightest change.'
She looked as if she wanted to protest but had
not the strength.
"Draw your hand away very slowly and gently,"
he suggested. “He may not notice it."
She began an almost imperceptible withdrawal of
the fingers held fast in Campbell's shrunken palm.
But, at the first suggestion of a movement in them,
the old hand closed on the young one like a vise.
She actually winced under the force of the grip.
Then she looked up at Renshaw. There was an ex-
pression in her eyes he had never before seen there,
though he had seen it in the eyes of other women-


THE VIGIL
197
the look made up of alarm, pride, and tenderness
that women wear when the men they love are
suddenly dependent upon them.
“You see?” she breathed.
“Yes. But release your hand and I will give him
mine. Possibly he won't know the difference."
Verity's beautiful upper lip curled a trifle. There
was a strong suggestion of her former half-careless
scorn in the side-glance she gave him. But he had
put his left hand on hers and was gently drawing
the latter away. Simultaneously he slipped the first
two fingers of his other hand into the sick man's
groping, hollowed palm. The palm settled over
them an instant, then rejected them with an almost
fierce gesture and groped for the small hand it had
held.
"Lie back in your chair for a moment, anyway,"
Renshaw ordered. “Relax your muscles while you
have a chance. Then we 'll see whether he really
wants you. That groping and gripping of his hand
may be purely reflex.”
She shook her head with a lingering hint of scorn
in the gesture, but she lay back as he directed, winc-
ing visibly over the protest of her tortured muscles.
“The back of my neck aches horribly,” she con-
fessed. "I could n't have stood it much longer with-
out a change of position.”


198
THE BLUE CIRCLE
He did not hear her. He was moving around
the old man's sitting-room, and now he came back
with a wine-glassful of sherry.
"Drink this,” he directed.
She drank it obediently; but, notwithstanding the
warming draft, he saw her shiver. He suddenly
realized that the room was cold. He himself was
comfortable in pajamas and a heavy silk dressing-
gown; but Verity's silk and lace negligée offered
little protection from the chill air that crept through
the windows with the approach of dawn.
"If you 're going to stay here, you ought to be
more warmly dressed,” he absently observed. “Go
to your room and put on something warm.”
Under the words she started and gave him a
quick glance. Then her lips set.
"I'm very comfortable,” she said curtly.
"You 're nothing of the sort; what's the use of
saying you are?" He was looking at her now with
increased attention.
She leaned forward and returned his look with
a straight one of her own. In a low voice, and
very distinctly, she spoke.
"Mr. Renshaw,” she said, “grandfather put you
in charge of his case and perhaps of the house. I
don't know how far-reaching he meant his instruc-
tions to be. But, whatever he did, he did not put


THE VIGIL
199
you in charge of me. Will you be good enough to
remember that?”
Renshaw flushed and bit his lip. His smoldering
dislike of Miss Campbell, forgotten for many hours,
hotly flamed up again.
“Do as you please,” he said coldly. “If you pre-
fer to sit here unclothed and get pneumonia, that 's
your affair, of course. But please remember that
it would add an unpleasant complication in a house-
hold that is going to be rather busy for the next
few weeks.”
One word in his speech infuriated her. He con-
sidered her "unclothed”! She set her teeth with a
force that tightened her jaw-line. In her heart she
knew he was right, but to obey him now would be
intolerable. He must be taught his lesson by her
actions as well as by her words. She shivered
again. She was really very cold. She sat still a
few minutes longer, while her resolution wavered
like a wind-blown flame. Then, without a glance at
him, or even at the pathetic, still groping old hand
on the bed-clothes, she rose stiffly and left the room.
He followed and opened the door for her, an atten-
tion she acknowledged by briefly inclining her head
without a glance in his direction.
She was gone only a few minutes, and when she
returned he regarded with approval the garment she


200
THE BLUE CIRCLE
wore. It was a heavy velvet negligée, trimmed
with dark fur, and with a high rolling collar that
had the effect of a Medici ruff. Her eyes and
cheeks were still blazing, and the vivid orange-hued
garment, which she had obviously flung on because
it was the first thing that came to her hand, so set
off her amazing beauty that when she had sunk back
into her big chair beside the bed, Renshaw looked
at her with a puzzled sense of unreality. No
woman had a right to be so lovely as that. There
was something unpleasant about it. It was the un-
pleasant sensations that made her seem unreal.
Surely no woman-now-could stir his pulses.
He approached her with an expression made up
of surprise and humility.
"Forgive me,” he begged very gently. “I delib-
erately spoke as I did because it was the only way to
keep you from catching a bad cold. I'm not sorry I
did it, but I am horribly sorry you misunderstood
me. Now, will you let me make you as comfortable
as I can?"
She met his eyes, and the brilliant hardness died
out of her own.
"Thank you,” she said; and she added, almost
below her breath, “I was very foolish.”
Though the words were so low, he caught them.
They were shy things. They seemed to scurry like


THE VIGIL
201
frightened mice around the silent room. It was not
easy for Verity Campbell to confess herself in the
wrong.
She had taken her grandfather's groping hand
as she spoke, and it clutched hers with avid content,
holding it tightly as if in fear of again losing it.
Renshaw, laden with cushions, arranged them
behind her back and under her arm in a way to give
her the greatest possible comfort in a position
strained at the best. When he had done what he
could, he returned to his own chair.
Neither spoke. The silence of the room seemed
to deepen. Even the old man on the bed was quiet
and seemingly at peace, now that his groping hand
had found what it sought.
The door opened, and Jenks insinuated himself
into the room. He glanced at the figure on the bed,
waited a moment for orders, and, receiving none,
faded out like a departing shadow. As he went,
however, he sent Renshaw a glance that brought the
secretary to his side in the hall.
"Mr. Campbell's getting along all right, sir, is n't
he?" he asked anxiously.
"I hope so."
The expression of concern on the butler's face
deepened.
“Doctor Morris told me he would probably be


202
THE BLUE CIRCLE
unconscious for days,” he went on. “That looks as
if he was pretty sick, does n't it, sir? Don't you
think he may come to sooner ?”.
Renshaw shook his head.
"Morris is a better authority on that than I am,"
he pointed out.
“But I've seen cases, sir, where they came to in
a few hours.” Jenks bowed his head. "I can't
help worrying," he confessed almost humbly. “It
don't seem like a man has much chance when he lies
like that."
Renshaw's lips parted. He had been about to say
that the old man had already momentarily recovered
consciousness, but he changed his mind. That
report belonged to the doctors.
"Don't worry, Jenks,” he said kindly. "Mr.
Campbell may be in this condition for a week, but
I think he will get well.”
"Oh, thank you, sir." Jenks's stolid face was
almost human.
Renshaw returned to the sick-room. Half an
hour later the figure of Doctor Morris loomed
through the first weary light of the lagging dawn.
Coming to the bedside, the physician nodded, first
at the quiet patient, then into the alert eyes of
Renshaw.
"He's all right. Nothing more to do at present.
а


204
THE BLUE CIRCLE
widow. Her closed eyes and the velvety whiteness
of her skin gave her face an oddly lifeless look, the
lifelessness of a beautiful statue; but no statue had
those exquisitely arched black eyebrows, those long,
slightly curled black eyelashes, and those magic
crimson curves of the mouth. It was a proud
mouth, almost a cold mouth, though it was so lovely.
Indeed, the whole face seemed cold, despite the.
burnished blackness of hair and eyebrows and eye-
lashes. Yet Verity Campbell was not cold. She
was full of fire-ready to flash up in fierce anger
at a word or a look; perhaps, he did not know, she
was equally ready to flash up under softer emotions.
He deliberately tried to keep his thoughts on her.
He was tired of thinking about the mysteries of
Tawno Ker, of speculating as to what Campbell had
meant by what he had said. But his thoughts re-
turned to such things in connection with the girl, and
the problems they presented could not be ignored.
Of course, he wouldstell her nothing, if he could
help it. That he had already decided. But was
there any one else he should tell ? Stanley, for
example? Stanley was a hard-headed, sane old
chap—so hard-headed, indeed, that it would be very
difficult for him to credit Renshaw's story of blue
circles and uncanny midnight sounds. Stanley
would either think that Renshaw was exaggerating


THE VIGIL
205
natural conditions easily explained, or he would
think Renshaw's nerves were playing him tricks.
Renshaw did not wish Stanley to get any such
notion as that into his head. Stanley was vigor-
ously maintaining that he, Renshaw, was in reality
an absolutely well man if he himself could be made
to realize it. Renshaw was not willing to have
Stanley change that theory. If he did, it might up-
set things badly. Stanley might not be willing to
leave his old friend in the hands of a man whose
nerves were uncertain.
And what was true of Stanley was even more
true of Morris. Stanley at least had imagination.
Morris, Renshaw was already convinced by the
man's appearance, had none. If he told his experi-
ence to Morris, about the first thing Morris would
do would be to ask Jenks what sort of fellow the
new secretary was. And it was quite on the cards
that Jenks might feel moved, out of loyalty to his
helpless master, to tell Morris all about the strange
bargain Campbell and Renshaw had made.
Renshaw moved helplessly in his chair. He had
carried through the terms of that bargain with
genuine indifference to its effect on Campbell. But
it sickened him to think of the servants gossiping
over it, and still less did he want the slow-moving
mind of Morris to be busied with it. He came to


THE VIGIL
207
the entrance of the doctors, and was blinking rather
dazedly. He drew her away from the bed. There
was nothing they two could do now.
They waited in silence, hearing the voices but not
the words of the doctors. In a very short time
Stanley came forward and formally shook hands
with them both. His figure seemed to fill the room,
and, though he was well past seventy, he radiated
vitality, from his mass of thick white hair to the big
feet planted so firmly on the floor as he faced them.
"Things might be a lot worse, my dear,” he told
Verity with brusque kindliness. “I think we'll
bring him around all right, but it will take time.”
He looked at the girl's face. Every feature was
quivering under the sudden relaxation of the strain
she had been through.
"There, there,” he said, patting her hand.
"You 're tired out and frightened, but you 'll be all
right to-morrow. I've got a first-rate nurse here,
and another will come in the morning. Miss Wat-
son will take charge. She's gone off already to
get into her uniform. Go to bed, my child. I'll
see you at breakfast. You too, Renshaw. Clear
out! Your work 's done for the night. Sleep late
if you can."
He gave the young man's shoulder a friendly little
push, shot a straight look into his eyes, and nodded


208 THE BLUE CIRCLE
complacently, as if the glance had confirmed an
earlier impression.
“Go to bed,” he repeated. “Jenks says you 've
both been on the watch ever since it happened. It's
our turn now."
He listened with interest to Renshaw's report of
the patient's Alicker of consciousness. He was in
excellent spirits, evidently greatly relieved to dis-
cover that his old friend had what he called "a
damned good fighting chance."
"He 'll fight, too,” he chuckled to Morris, a little
later. "He's made up his mind to outlive me.
That will help him.”
Renshaw escorted Verity to the door of her
rooms. There, to his surprise, she put her hand in
his. At the touch of the small fingers his self-con-
sciousness returned. He held the hand vaguely a
moment, as if he did not know quite what to do with
it, then gently gave it back to her.
“Good night,” he said. "Sleep well. I'm al-
most sure there's nothing to worry about now.” -
She nodded. “I know," she said. “Good night.
And thank you again. I'm sorry I was so horrid."
He shook his head. “You were not horrid,” he
protested.
She entered her room and closed the door, but
she did not immediately lose the sense of his pres-


THE VIGIL
209
ence. They had been together for hours, and an
incredible thing had happened. Notwithstanding
her dislike for him, her lack of faith in him, her
half-scorn of him, she knew that throughout that
time she had depended on him. She had, in a way,
leaned on him—on something in him which, in those
hours at least, had seemed like strength. The
knowledge both puzzled and embarrassed her. She
should have leaned on herself alone. She should
have been equal to the emergency. For, after all,
he had actually done nothing except carry her grand-
father to his bed. He had done that well and easily.
He had been a stunning figure in his soft, rich
dressing-gown.
She undressed thoughtfully. She was no longer
over-anxious about her grandfather. He was in
Doctor Stanley's care, and Doctor Stanley had
virtually promised her that he would get well. But
it was not of Stanley she thought, nor did she even
recall her own long vigil by the bed, with the
patient's hand so avidly. clutching hers. With
singular persistence, one picture filled her mind-
the picture of the moment when the young man
had lifted the old man as if he were a little child,
and, with flying garment and the swift, splendid
stride of a trained athlete, had carried her stricken
grandfather to his bed.


RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE 2 II
211
effects of the strain of the night. Both Jenks and
James were in the room, standing by the sideboard
and talking in low tones. Renshaw had detoured
to the left wing on his way down-stairs, and had
tapped at the door to ask news of the patient,
receiving from the nurse the stock report of the
average sick-room: the patient was "resting com-
fortably.”
He returned the respectful greetings of the two
servants, and approached with zest the adventure of
examining the hot dishes on the sideboard. While
he was helping himself to omelet and bacon, the two
physicians bustled into the dining-room. They were
obviously in exuberant spirits. Morris, indeed,
wore the uplifted look of a modest man honored
beyond his deserts, and Stanley was vain enough to
be pleased as well as mildly amused by the awe with
which his country colleague regarded him. Both
greeted the secretary with cordiality, into which
Stanley now infused something of the personal in-
terest due to a protégé. They filled their plates like
hungry school-boys.
"Campbell's going to be all right,” Stanley pre-
dicted, in response to Renshaw's first question, as
he returned to the table and sat down. “Can't kill
that old boy. He's determined to sing hymns at
my funeral. By the way, it was only for a few


212
THE BLUE CIRCLE
seconds that he recovered consciousness, I think you
said?"
"Yes, just about that,” Renshaw answered. "He
seemed very anxious to say something, and finally
he brought it out.”
"Just what was it, again?"
"He instructed me in three words to take charge
here.”
Renshaw was glad to have this point developed,
and especially in the presence of the two servants.
That there might be no mistake about the matter, he
clinched his case by adding casually, “Miss Campbell
and I were alone with him at the time."
“Is that all he said?" Stanley, who had stopped
eating for a moment, fell zestfully upon some
sausages.
"He had very hard work to bring that out. He
drifted off again as soon as my reply showed that I
understood. The effort had exhausted him."
“H'm-m. Well, that's all right.”
Just what was all right Stanley did not specify.
Probably it was the sausages.
"I'm going back to town this morning,” he added
in another tone. “This pneumonia epidemic is
keeping me uncomfortably busy. But I'll run out
again to-morrow afternoon, anyway—and of course
if there 's any change I 'll come at once. Meantime,


RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE 213
Doctor Morris will be right here on the job. We've
decided that he'd better make Tawno Ker his head-
quarters for a day or so, till we 're sure the patient
is on the mend. We don't want to take any chances.
I suppose you can make him comfortable ?"
“Of course. It will be a great relief to have him
here.”
Renshaw spoke with unusual heartiness. It
would be good to have the simple but agreeable per-
sonality of Morris in the house, and in more ways
than one.
After breakfast he went with Jenks to the left
wing to look over Morris's quarters and to assure
himself that the comfort he had promised was avail-
able. He found that Jenks had solved the little
problem with his customary efficiency. Doctor
Morris had a comfortable room and bath half-way
down the corridor upon which Campbell's suite
opened. The two wide windows of the bedroom
overlooked the autumn-stricken garden, and, glanc-
ing absently down upon this, Renshaw's eyes dilated
with quick surprise.
There was a strangely familiar face and figure
on the path below, but he could not believe that he
had really recognized them. He looked again to
make sure. Then, still puzzled, he flung a question
over his shoulder at Jenks:


RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE 215
“How about the 'pers’nal business' that was going
to keep Hart in town last night?”.
Jenks looked sympathetic.
"He's got trouble, sir, all right. The young per-
son he's engaged to is very sick with pneumonia.
She's a friend of Maggie's, and they were both at
her house till midnight, though of course they
could n't be with her much. So when Rickett, the
other chauffeur, got to New York and telephoned
Hart that you had sent him back, Hart decided the
thing for him to do was to come right out. It's
well he did, sir, is n't it?”.
Jenks made this solemn report with equally solemn
unction. Notwithstanding his respectful demeanor,
it was clear that he enjoyed letting this stranger who
took so much upon himself realize how hard he had
made life for a worthy and conscientious young
man. And it must be admitted that Renshaw ex-
perienced a sharp twinge of compunction. He had
messed things up for Hart! Under the influence of
the feeling, he spoke on an impulse:
"Jenks, do you want to know why I sent Rickett
back?"
"Yes, sir!"
The answer was too alert, too eager: so was ihe
sudden gleam in Jenks's eyes. Renshaw checked his
impulse.


216
"I may tell you sometime,” he promised indiffer-
ently, and turned away with a finality that ended
the conversation. He caught first, however, another
look in Jenks's eyes—the duplicate of the expression
of intense dislike the man had shown on the right
of his arrival.
That dislike, he knew, was reasonable enough.
It would take a butler who was a superman to
welcome the arrival and authority of a stranger who
held Renshaw's anomalous position in the house-
hold. But, whatever Jenks's feelings might be,
there was no failure in his manner or his service.
The man was at the door when Renshaw spoke
again—this time more gently.
“Jenks,” he said, “I wish you would give me an
idea of the domestic routine here. Who, for
example, orders the meals ?”.
“Miss Campbell, sir. She writes the menus for
the day every morning, and gives them to me.”
"You do the ordering and marketing?”
“Yes, sir, mostly by telephone. We have a large
store-room, well supplied, and a hamper comes from
New York once a week.”
"It's odd the ladies don't have a personal maid.”
Renshaw was speaking more to himself than to the
servant.
"It does seem odd, sir,” Jenks acquiesced. "But


RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE 217
Mrs. Pardee can't get on with one, sir, and Miss
Verity won't have one alone, down here in the
country. She says it is n't worth while. The
foreign lady,”—for some reason Jenks steadfastly
refused to force his tongue to a contest with the
name of Hvoeslef,—“she has a nurse for the little
girl; a sour creature she is, too, sir; and she don't
speak a word of English. But she runs in and out
of Madame's room a good deal and helps her to
dress for dinner. And Maggie does the nails and
washes the hair of Miss Campbell and Mrs. Pardee
every week—”
Renshaw checked these personal revelations.
"So We-wee belongs to Madame Hvoeslef?” he
mused.
“Miss Wanda? Yes, sir. She appears to be her
grandchild.”
"The halls and bedrooms are looked after by
Annie?” Renshaw had returned to practical details.
"Yes, sir." Jenks hesitated, then made his plunge
with an almost perceptible gulp of distaste: “Any-
thing you wish changed, sir?”
"Certainly not. I merely want to get a clear idea
of the routine and working force. There's no one
else around that I have n't seen or heard of?”
"No one but the cook, sir. She's Jane Dawkins
-an Englishwoman.”


218
THE BLUE CIRCLE
"I thought the cook was English, from the break-
fasts. They ’re all right, too,” Renshaw hastened
to add, recalling the ample justice he had done to the
three he had eaten.
Jenks was looking relieved. "There's another
young person in the kitchen, sir," he remembered.
“She washes dishes and assists the cook. She's
what we'd call a scullery-maid in England, sir. Her
name,” he added thoughtfully, "is Violet.”
"She's a modest Violet; I did n't even know of
her existence.” Renshaw spoke absently. His mind
was on Jenks's penultimate sentence. “So you 're
English, too ?”
"I was born in England, sir; but I've been in
America a good many years.” The manner of
Jenks returned to normal. "Any orders, sir?”
“None whatever."
Renshaw's back was again to the room and his
eyes were on the figure of Miss Daisy. She wore a
festive blue tam-o'-shanter and an optimistic blazer,
but she looked cold and rather lonely. Jenks faded
away, and Renshaw descended to the lower floor
and turned toward the study. The duty nearest
his hand was to open the morning mail and reply to
that part of it which required attention. Also, he
desired to have a private talk with Stanley before he
left.


RENSHAW TAKES CHARGE 219
But, instead of doing these things, he equipped
himself with a coat and cap in the convenient hall
closet and strolled out of the house. He would
smoke an after-breakfast cigar first of all, and have
a little chat with Miss Daisy.


CHAPTER XV.
DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS
I JE found Miss Daisy enjoying the society of
11 We-wee, and incidentally trying to detach the
firm grasp of that determined young person from
the tail of an earnestly protesting black kitten.
"My word, kid,” he heard her say as he ap-
proached, “in one more minute you 'll have the tail
off. And then what 'll you do with it, I wanta
know!"
We-wee was not confiding her future plans about
the tail. She interrupted her congenial occupation
to greet Renshaw with a deep chuckle and an
amazing exhibition of dimples, her manner nicely
blending her joy in their encounter with her inner
conviction of a blameless life. A black flash and a
final yowl marked the disappearance of the kitten
from the scene of the reunion.
Miss Daisy greeted Renshaw without surprise.
She seemed prepared for their meeting, even eager
for it.
220


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 221
"Ain't this a great old world?” was her opening
remark. “Hart told me you worked in this place.
Would you 'a' thought, when I met you yes'day, that
you an' me would be out here t'gether to-day?”.
Renshaw swung We-wee to his shoulder, from
which secure perch she issued an urgent plea to the
kitten to return. The animal's failure to respond
to the invitation checked the chuckles and blurred
the exhibition of dimples. An ominous cloud
gathered on the infant brow.
"Kitty," she remarked briefly but very firmly,
addressing the word to Renshaw.
“Guess you better drop her in a pond or some-
thin', to d'vert her mind,” suggested Miss Daisy,
with helpful intent. “When that kid wants any-
thing, she wants it awful bad."
We-wee's round little mouth settled into a straight
line.
“Kitty!" she again remarked, with sinister
emphasis.
Miss Daisy regarded her with interest mingled
with disapproval.
"The way kids is spoiled nowadays is somethin'
terrible, ain't it?" she contributed.
"Kitty!!" observed Miss Wanda Hvoeslef, in a
deep-throated tone.
“Wanda does n't want a kitten,” Renshaw,


222
THE BLUE CIRCLE
explained to Miss Daisy. “What she wants is a
beautiful big white cow with a wreath of roses
around its neck and a bell that rings all the time.”
“I sh'd think she would,” Miss Daisy earnestly
agreed. “I'd like one m'self. I dunno what I'd
do with it," she dreamily mused, “but I'd like it!”
"All right. I'll catch one for each of you some
day,” Renshaw lightly promised. “Will that be all
right, We-wee?"
"Bossy tow,” acquiesced Miss Hvoeslef, with
sudden contentment, drumming the heels of her
small rubbers on Renshaw's chest in pleasant antici-
pation.
"I shall have to go to town and buy her a big
white cow, if I can find one,” he murmured, as he
and Miss Daisy strolled along the path. “I suppose
I've got to make good on that cow some way.”
"I 'll trim it with flowers and bells when you get
it,” giggled Miss Daisy. “But how about mine?
Where do I get off?”.
Renshaw set We-wee on the path and let her dart
ahead of them. He wondered where the child's
foreign nurse kept herself. He had never seen the
little creature in her care. But then, after all,
passionately though their natures had fused, he and
We-wee had met only three times. Probably the
nurse was watching her from some window in the


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 223
back of the house. He had a strong feeling that
some one was also watching him. We-wee headed
straight for her favorite resort, the secret garden;
and Renshaw, realizing the nature of its attraction
for her, followed with less enthusiasm.
He was right in his impression of being watched,
but it was not the eyes of the foreign nurse that
rested on him. Instead, it was the renewedly crit-
ical gaze of Verity Campbell, who, pausing briefly
at a window, had looked out and discovered him
and his companion. The look was not a long one.
The girl turned away almost at once, and as she did
so her upper lip revealed the familiar little scornful
twist the sight of Renshaw so often brought to it.
Notwithstanding his detached and impersonal
manner, she was reflecting, he seemed a youth of
human and catholic tastes. Only the day before she
had surprised him in the study, lingeringly kissing
the hand of Madame Hvoeslef. To-day he was
seemingly absorbed in the society of a young man-
icure who, fifteen minutes before, must have been
a stranger to him. He appeared to be looking at
the girl very earnestly. With some effort, Miss
Campbell detached her mind from the picture of the
two figures and fastened it firmly on her household
duties.
She was correct as to Renshaw's expression. It


224
THE BLUE CIRCLE
was serious. He desired to ask Miss Daisy some
personal questions, and he had not yet decided how
to begin. But he need not have devoted to the
problem the earnest thought he was giving it. His
first remark started the girl on a monologue.
Remembering their encounter on the “anxious
bench” of the Trust Company, and the prolonged
conversation with which she had favored him, Ren-
shaw decided that she was given to monologues.
A little later he changed this opinion.
"So Hart's your brother ?" was all he said.
“Yes—an' he's a dandy one, too.” Miss Daisy's
manner was almost truculent; but this was partly
explained by her next words. “He's so quiet an'
so dif'rent from me that most folks don't like him,"
she artlessly mentioned. “And of course he's got
his faults, like all the rest o' the men. They's lots
of things in 'm I'd change in a minute if he'd let
me. Gawd knows, I've tried hard enough. But
when it comes to the brother stuff, Hart's right
there with the goods. Did y' ever notice his eyes?"
she abruptly demanded.
Her companion admitted that he had noticed
Hart's eyes.
"Well, he was marked, the poor kid,” Miss Daisy
went on. “Our dad was drowndead jest before
Hart was born-he's eighteen months younger 'n


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 225
me, though he don't look it. The simps that pulled
dad outa the water brought him in and dumped him
down at maw's feet, dead. His eyes was wide
open. He was lookin' up at her with those dead
eyes all the time he laid there, while she was tryin'
to take in what 'd happened. See? So when Hart
was born his eyes looked that way, too.”
They had reached the secret garden, and Miss
Daisy sank upon the sun-dial, thus fortunately con-
cealing it from the roving gaze of We-wee. Ren-
shaw stood beside her rather awkwardly, not
knowing quite what comment to make upon her un-
expected reminiscence.
"It's awful to be drowndead,” Miss Daisy con-
tinued in her matter-of-fact tones. “I had a gentle-
man friend oncet, and one summer when I was
takin' my vacation at Dreamhurst-by-the-Sea, this
gentleman friend he come up t spend Saturday and
Sunday with me. I had n't ast him to," she hur-
riedly interjected. “He jest come because he wanted
to. But I was glad he did, because I thought he
was just about right. Besides, he was such a good-
looker, I knew the other girls 'd be crazy—for of
course he could n't see none of 'em but me."
“That was natural,” Renshaw commented.
"Sure it was,” Miss Daisy conceded, and went on
reasily with her narrative. "He got down on the


226
THE BLUE CIRCLE
aft'noon train, and the minute I met him he wanted
to go in swimmin'. I did n't care much about it,
m'self; I'd been in all mornin'. But I went, an',
believe me, that fella looked great in his new red-
and-black bathin'-suit!”
She stopped for a moment, as if to give herself
up to the beauty of the remembered picture, and
Renshaw, mildly amused and wondering where all
this was leading to', watched We-wee and waited
in silence.
"He went pretty far out," continued Miss Daisy,
recalling herself to her story. “He was a dandy
swimmer, and I'm some mermaid m'self. So I
was awful surprised when all of a sudden me gentle-
man friend let out a queer little squawk an' went
down—just like that!"
Her eyes, roving over the blasted garden as she
talked, suddenly grew fixed.
"Say, look at that kid!” she broke off. “Ain't
she the little imp! She's got that kitten again,
lovin' it like she was its aunt an' lookin' as if butter
would n't melt in her mouth—”.
"You were saying,” Renshaw remarked, "that
your friend went down—".
Miss Daisy recalled herself to her reminiscence
as one who returns from a journey.
"Oh, yes,” she said, "so I was. Well, of course


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 227
I went right after him. But the ocean 's awful big,
you know, when you 're kind of feelin' round in
it for somethin' you can't see. So I had to come
up without ’m. I swum around a minute to get
my breath. Then I seen him again on the top of
a wave, lookin' like he was in trouble- Say, that
kid's the limit! Will you look at her now, flat on
her stomach, tryin' to bury the kitten in that hole
near the wall—”
"Your friend was in trouble the last I heard of
him,” Renshaw murmured.
"Me friend? Oh, sure! He was in trouble, all
right, all right. When I got to 'm he was n't there,
an' I had t go down again. But I did n't have no
better luck than the first time. It was like him an'
me was playin' hide-and-seek. So the next time I
come up I let out a bunch of yells— Would you
believe it, she's buried the kitten!”
"Never mind the kitten; I'm rather interested
in the young man. Did they hear the yells on
land ?"
"Sure they did !” Miss Daisy looked rebuked
but forgiving. "You bet they heard 'em. They 'd
'a' had † move ť get away from 'em. I'm some
yeller when I put my mind on it-an' that time I
pulled out all the stops. Folks began to rush round
on the sand the foolish way they do, an' I thought


228
THE BLUE CIRCLE
while they was talkin' it all over I'd go down again
an' see what I could find. But I was pretty tired
by that time, an' I was n't sure I could bring in my
gentleman friend even if I got 'm.
"I went down, an' stayed pretty long. I kinda
felt like it was my last chance. I got some water
in me, an’ was near choked when I come up again,
Now, what d'ye think o' that!" Miss Daisy was
again regarding We-wee. “She's buried the kitten,
an' she's left the tail out, an' she's tied a big knot
in the tail. An' that's what she was after all the
time. Can you beat it!”
"I wish you 'd tie a knot in your tale,” her com-
panion restlessly submitted. She forgivingly shook
her head at him.
"Ain't you the queer one? I knew, when I seen
you yesterday, you was different from the rest.”
Something in his expression recalled her to her
original topic. “When I looked toward the land I
seen a boat comin'," she resumed, “an' it was time,
too,” she muttered resentfully. "I could 'a' built
one if I'd 'a' been on th' beach myself. So they
got out to me an' hauled me in— I knew that kid
'd git scratched before she got through. She's
got it now, and she's got it good!” .
She rose, and both she and her companion hur-


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 229
ried to the suffering We-wee's side; but as Renshaw
went he asked a pregnant question:
“Am I to understand, Miss Daisy, that your gen-
tleman friend was drowned ?”
"Sure he was. Was n't it sad? Never mind,
dearie! It's only a little scratch—an' it was the
kitten's turn all right, all right. You gotta be a
sport an' take what's comin' to you.”
Miss Daisy was wiping a bleeding line on We-
wee's face with Renshaw's big handkerchief. “The
reason I told you about it,” she went on, when the
startled shrieks of the infant had given way to
gratified acceptance of their attentions, “was that
we picked up me brother in the water on the way
back. He was among the crowd on shore, an' he
got tired waitin' for the boat, jest like I had. So
he started t swim out to us. He's been scared of
the water all his life-I s'pose he got that feelin'
th' same time as he got his eyes. So he can't swim
much, an' he don't want to. You can't get him near
a duck-pond. Believe me, it was some stunt for
Hart to come out for us, feelin' the way he does
about water. He was all in, too, when we picked
him up. But it was brother stuff, all right, all right.
Now, dearie, we 'll take you into the house an' put
p'roxide on the scratch an' give you a big cooky."


230
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw left the stricken We-wee to Miss Daisy's
ministrations, and returned to the front of the
house, drawn there by the presence of Stanley's
waiting automobile. He had been interested in the
manicure's narrative, but he was inclined to think
it had been prolonged in order to keep him in the
secret garden. He was in a generally suspicious
mood.
He joined Stanley just as that gentleman was
stepping into his car.
"Suppose you send the machine down to the road
and let me walk to the gate with you,” Renshaw
suggested. “There are one or two things I'd like
to ask you about."
“All right. I wondered where you were.” The
physician motioned to his chauffeur, and the car
went on ahead of them.
"The first thing I want to ask,” said Renshaw,
going straight to his point as the two walked down
the long driveway, "is what you meant by warning
me that there was an unusual condition of things
at Tawno Ker. Now that I'm in charge here, and
the owner is helpless, I think I ought to know what
those conditions are—especially as they may have
had something to do with Campbell's stroke.”
Stanley shook his head.
“Not a bit of it,” he said brusquely. “Besides,


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 231
they're all over now; and they did n't amount to
much in the first place, except to one person.”
“May I ask what they were?”
"Of course. There's no reason why you
should n't know. Campbell himself would have
told you, no doubt, in a day or two. I suppose he
had promised Madame Hvoeslef—that is n't her
name, by the way—to say nothing until the material
was safe with the Trust Company. She's the mys-
tery-maker, you know; and she has oozed mystery
from the moment she entered the house."
"I've noticed that.”
"Of course you have. Who could help noticing
it? Well, what it all means is simply this: Madame
Hvoeslef, as she chooses to call herself just now,
is a very great personage in her native land, and her
husband was a very great man there. He spent
the last years of his life writing his memoirs.
Those memoirs are very intimate and personal.
They concern history and thrones and wearers of
crowns. And the author's august master, shaking on
his own tottering throne, did n't want them published.
When the author died, the widow was offered
a fortune for the manuscript. She refused the for-
tune, knowing it meant that the manuscript would
be destroyed, and that her husband's greatest wish
was to have it published. Then efforts were made


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 233
No one would think he would be their choice!
Renshaw took this in silence and digested it, but it
did not disturb him.
“A big publishing firm is buying the world rights
to the stuff for fifty thousand dollars," Stanley
went on. “The contract is to be signed in a few
days. It's a mighty good thing for the charming
Madame Hvoeslef, since it's all she has left. She
belonged to the reigning family, and her uprising
countrymen have recently confiscated her estates.
She can go to France or Switzerland now, and live
on the income of her fifty thousand.”
They had reached the stone gateway, where the
limousine was waiting. The old doctor held out
his hand.
"But,” Renshaw objected, as he took it, "all this
being so, it does n't explain in the least the things
I've noticed.”
"What have you noticed?” Stanley asked the
question over his shoulder, with a foot on the run-
ning-board of the car. It was not a moment for
confidences, even if Renshaw had intended to make
them. However, he would see what else he could
draw out.
"Oh, odd noises and lights, and that sort of
thing," he said carelessly. “But inside the house-
not outside. And I understood from Mr. Campbell


234 THE BLUE CIRCLE
that everything inside the house was all right."
Stanley entered the car and shrugged himself into
the big fur-lined overcoat that lay waiting for him
on the back seat.
"The servants," he explained. “I told you they
were on the watch. They did n't know what for,
of course. They were just ordered to keep their
eyes open and their mouths shut. But you can
imagine how skilful they'd be in pussy-footing
around-every man fancying himself an amateur
detective. Probably they 've been trying to arrest
one another,” he ended, with a chuckle.
Renshaw had one more question:
"Is that all you know—and all that you and Mr.
Campbell meant by what you said ?”.
“Absolutely all. It's enough, too. You don't
find a lost princess guarding historic memoirs every
day. Where 's your imagination ? Madame Hvoes-
lef is a very great lady, and that baby I hear you've
fallen in love with has royal blood in her veins.
No one else took the thing as hard as Madame
Hvoeslef did, of course," he went on more thought-
fully, “but no one can blame her for being melo-
dramatic. She has lost her country, her family,
her fortune, and all but lost her life over those
memoirs. They are vital to her, whatever they may
seem to the rest of us. Now I'm off. The nurse


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 235
will telephone me twice a day, and Morris has a lot
of sense. Good-by.”
Renshaw walked slowly back to the house and,
leaving his coat and hat in the hall closet, entered
the study and shut and locked the door. He wanted
to be alone and to think. He sat down in a chair
before the fire, and mentally held Stanley's story
up for inspection. He believed the old man had
told him all he knew. He believed that what he had
told him was true. He also knew, with absolute
certainty, that the little episode of Madame Hvoes-
lef's memoirs, vital as it was to her and the Camp-
bells, had nothing whatever to do with the phenom-
ena he himself had observed at Tawno Ker—unless,
indeed, the freakish exchange of the leather cases
had some connection with them.
Madame Hvoeslef's memoirs did not account for
prowling, climbing things, for blue circles, and for
all the personal attention he himself had received in
the still hours of the night. He was in no way
connected with the memoirs. Neither did the fact
that the household staff was on guard account for
these things. But, by the way, if the servants were
on guard, why the deuce had n't they heard some
of the sounds that had disturbed him? Possibly
they had confined their pussy-footing to the other
wing of the house, the one that held the memoirs


236 THE BLUE CIRCLE
and their owner. That would be natural enough.
Also, there would be only one of them on the job
each night. They would take turns, of course.
The contrast between the interesting but simple
explanation Stanley had given him and the things
he himself knew was nothing short of startling.
Renshaw's mind clung to that; but he went to his
desk, seated himself, and stretched a resolute hand
toward the morning mail. To attend to that was
his obvious duty now. His other duties were not
obvious at all.
Officially, he was "in charge," whatever that
meant. Personally, he was to "watch.” The
memory of the command, and the manner in which
it was delivered, made him nod slowly to himself.
Out of all the tangle around him, one fact at least
loomed clear.
Campbell did know—perhaps had just learned-
that something other than the foreign memoirs
needed watching at Tawno Ker. Something had
happened to Campbell last night, something that
had opened his eyes, something that had then pos-
sibly caused his collapse. To find out the exact
nature of that something was Renshaw's real job.
It was a large order ; but he would do his best.
The prospect greatly stimulated him. To write
a dozen letters a day and hang disconsolately around


DOCTOR STANLEY EXPLAINS 237
the house the rest of the time would have depressed
him very much. The alternative—to keep his eyes
open, to watch, to get to the bottom of a business
that first annoyed, then puzzled, and finally fasci-
nated him—would be worth while. He ought to be
able to make some progress to-night. He felt an
inner certainty that at least he would be given the
chance.
The longest, thickest envelope in the heap of mail
was addressed to himself. He tore it open with a
quickening of his heart-beats, and a number of in-
closures fell out. He picked these up and examined
them, at first almost feverishly, then carefully and
with great deliberation. As he did so, it became
clear that they were not only interesting but highly
satisfactory. At last he laid the inclosures down,
and leaned back in his chair for a moment of self-
gratification.
Miss Campbell, if she had been present, would
have been interested in the change of his expression.
She had seen something like it once. before-a
sudden illumination of his features, like the flash
of a light through darkness. But this change did
not pass almost at once, as the other had done.
It lingered a long time, while the new secretary, lips
pursed in a contented whistle, opened and read the
remaining mail.


CHAPTER XVI
THE CLOSED DOOR
| T luncheon that day Renshaw regarded
A Madame Hvoeslef with the added interest
due to his knowledge of her story. She had, of
course, lost the gayety of the night before and wore
the subdued air befitting a guest in a stricken house-
hold; but under it was an effort of mental ease and
relief subtle but unmistakable. His appreciation of
this increased as the meal went on and the four at
the table exchanged comments on the reassuring
news from the sick-room.
Morris, giving this in person, and himself in an
obvious state of physical and mental well-being as
new as it was grateful, made his reports with
unction.
“Mr. Campbell is doing splendidly,” he volun-
teered over his grape-fruit. “Better even than we
dared to hope. He has a constitution that is amaz-
ing in a man of his age. Of course the life he
has led is helping him a lot. A man ought to live
a thousand years in an atmosphere like this." He
238


THE CLOSED DOOR 239
glanced around the room, and, observing that for a
moment the ubiquitous James was not present, was
moved to a heart-felt encomium. “And that man
Jenks is a wonder," he fervently went on. “I've
never approved of much waiting on, myself. I
thought we were all better off without it. Besides,
I knew I would n't have it anyway in my bachelor
establishment, so I might as well learn to wait on
myself. But since I've been here Jenks has taught
me what it is to a tired man to have all his personal
wants anticipated from the moment he crosses the
threshold. I'm going to spend the rest of my life
looking for a man like Jenks,” he solemnly ended
-"that is, if I can ever earn enough to keep him
after I find him."
Madame Hvoeslef caught the flying ball of tribute
and neatly ping-ponged it toward Verity.
"All your servants are quite wonderful, my dear,"
she contributed. “I did not expect that, for I had
heard the stories of America's servant problems.
It is, I am sure, to you that we owe this perfection.”
She turned to Morris. “Miss Campbell attends
to all,” she explained; "yet no one ever sees—how
do you put it?—"the wheels go round'! Each morn-
ing she has everything arranged for the day before
we lazy ones are out of our beds.”
Renshaw glanced at Verity. This was news to


240
THE BLUE CIRCLE
him. Even after his talk with Jenks, he had as-
sumed that Miss Campbell's part in the household
routine was confined to making out the menus. He
wished that she would look after the linen supply
a little better. He liked a lot of towels, and since
the day of his arrival his towels had not been re-
placed. Of course, he had been told that he could
find fresh linen in that hall closet near his room;
but at the recurrent moments when he missed it he
usually was in an extreme state of undress and had
soap in his eyes. It was not convenient, in these
conditions, to plunge into the outer regions of the
hall for fresh linen.
Verity was shaking her head.
"I don't do much," she corrected. “Jenks is
really quite unusual, as Doctor Morris says. He
thinks of everything. I often wonder how we got
on before he came."
Morris returned to the topic that, next to his ex-
cellent luncheon, held his interest.
“Living in a bed of roses, I call it,” he senten-
tiously observed. “And it's what's going to save
our patient. Absolute peace, rest, relaxation; no
worry, no strain—not one man in a million can
have all that. Your grandfather has it”-this last
to Verity.
“And you 're quite sure he will get well?” The


THE CLOSED DOOR
241
girl's low voice was suddenly unsteady. Looking
at her more closely, Renshaw saw that she was
showing the effects of her night's vigil. Her clear
pallor was intensified, and there were shadows under
her eyes.
“I have n't a doubt of it.” Morris spoke heart-
ily, but with an utterance somewhat muffled by
broiled sweetbreads. “In fact, I feel so comfort-
able about him that I'm going off for a few hours
this afternoon. Must n't neglect my other patients,
you know. But, to be absolutely safe, I 'll telephone
several times, in case you want to reach me. It's
largely a question of nursing now, and entire quiet.
That's why we're keeping all you good people
out of the sick-room.”
“You saw my aunt, Mrs. Pardee, this morning,
did n't you, doctor?” Verity asked.
“Yes; I looked in on my way down to lunch.
She 's all right-only a slight cold. No temperature,
no suggestion of influenza. I've told her to stay in
bed to-day. Fortunately, she's not anxious about
Mr. Campbell. She has accepted our prediction that
he will soon be around again.”
Through the mind of each of his three listeners
flowed the same thought. Mrs. Pardee, the one
member who had been utterly unconscious of the
undercurrents at Tawno Ker, was also the one con-


242 THE BLUE CIRCLE
sistent pessimist in that ménage. She had never
had cause to worry, and she had never ceased to do
so. Now that genuine reason for worry offered it-
self, she cast it off as unconsciously as a bird sheds
a wing-feather.
After luncheon, Morris followed Renshaw into
the study to smoke a companionable cigar. He had
found an opportunity to carry out his resolution to
sound Stanley about this odd young chap who looked
like a pessimistic Greek athlete in modern clothes.
The little he had learned had added to his interest.
Apparently the secretary had passed through an ex-
perience that would have knocked out most men for
all time. There seemed little left of its effects ex-
cept the young man's detached air.
Morris had also been told something about Ma-
dame Hvoeslef, and had grasped the interesting fact
that a minute representative of European royalty
was in the main hall at the moment of Stanley's
recital, earnestly engaged in kicking her nurse in
the stomach as that stolid person bore her off for
her morning nap. Morris had never before moved
in such circles as these. He had a conviction
that he never would again. His firm intention was
to make the best of his opportunities—first by doing
his utmost for his patient, for he was a conscientious


THE CLOSED DOOR
243
man, and next by seeing as much of these interesting
persons as his duties allowed.
Renshaw found himself unexpectedly liking the
country doctor who was so simple, so direct, and so
human, and whose enjoyment of the unusual crea-
ture comforts that surrounded him was as frank
as a school-boy's might have been. He was almost
tempted to speak to Morris about the Thing and
about the blue circle-almost, but not quite. He
had not failed to take in the full significance of
the physician's words during luncheon. Campbell
needed, above everything else, perfect peace and
quiet. To suggest that, after all, this admirably
run establishment did not offer these things would
seriously upset the physician's serene frame of mind
-even if he accepted the statements at their face
value, which probably he would not do.
The two men chatted of the patient and of the
reports in the morning newspapers, and parted in
fifteen minutes, Morris to make an afternoon round
of his other patients, and Renshaw to mount to his
room. He had some vague notion of asking Jenks
to escort him through the house. He would most
awfully like to know the entire plan. As he
reached the upper hall, he met Verity at the head of
the staircase. Her presence there surprised him.


244
THE BLUE CIRCLE
The inmates of the left wing generally used a side
stairway that led to the rear of the main hall. Prob-
ably Miss Campbell had been on a housewifely tour
of inspection. She was evidently about to descend;
but she stopped now, facing him, as if she had
something to say.
"We have been so confused since you came, Mr.
Renshaw," she began, “that I have n't had a chance
to ask you if you are comfortable in your room.
I hope you are."
Standing on the step below her, he was on a line
with her eyes. He had never before faced her so
directly, or looked so steadily into those brown
depths. The experience gave him an odd sensation
-as if he were a diver going down, down in some
clear, bottomless sea. Under the influence of this
emotion, he self-consciously stammered his reply:
“Why, yes, thanks; I'm all right."
She moved as if to pass him. He did not want
her, either to move or to pass. He wanted to keep
her there. He had a conviction that now, for the
first time, he was meeting and talking to the normal
Verity Campbell. Last night she had been human
enough, but panic-stricken. To-day she was simple,
natural, and, if not friendly, at least cordial. She
looked at him as if she saw him. She definitely
accepted him as a member of the household. Under


THE CLOSED DOOR 245
the urge of his wish to prolong the gracious
moment, he caught at the trailing end of his half-
formed resolution.
"I was thinking of asking Jenks to show me over
the house," he went on, almost diffidently. “Per-
haps you will do it, if you have time.”
She looked surprised, then seemed to understand.
“Of course I will, if you like," she told him.
"But"-she hesitated—“there's no need of it, if
you are thinking of Madame Hvoeslef's affairs.
Now that all her papers are in a safe place—”.
“Can we assume that her enemies know they are
in a safe place? Are n't you taking it for granted
that they know it because we know it? And if they
don't yet know it, won't they still be prowling
around?”
He was leaning his elbow on the upper rail of the
staircase, speaking with a lightness that did not go
with his words, and looking at her with the sugges-
tion of a smile in his eyes. She appeared rather
taken aback.
"Why, I suppose so," she slowly conceded. “All
we had taken in was the relief of knowing that now
they can prowl around, if they like, without doing
any harm.”
"Have they been prowling?”
His eyes, with their half-smile, were still on hers.


246 THE BLUE CIRCLE
"Leoni thinks so—Madame Hvoeslef, I mean,"
she corrected herself. “She thinks she has seen
figures lurking in the grounds. But I fancy she
imagined them. She is very nervous and high-
strung, and she has had some horrible experiences
on the other side."
"You yourself have never seen or heard any-
thing?"
She shook her head.
"Leoni made us all feel creepy for a few weeks,”
she admitted. “I know she was on grandfather's
nerves. She almost got on mine. It's a wonder
she did not make us imagine all sorts of things.
As it was, we had a servant on guard every night,
you know.”
"Inside the house?”
“Yes. And outside, too."
“And they never heard or saw anything?".
“Hart said he saw a man stealing along our drive-
way late one night, but he ran as soon as he knew he
was discovered, and Hart could not catch him.
Jenks saw two others—several times.”
"And that 's all they reported ?”
"Absolutely all.” Verity started to descend the
staircase. Then, recalling his request, she stopped.
“But if you still care to go over the house," she
added, “I shall be glad to take you."


THE CLOSED DOOR 247
“You 're sure you have time?”
"Quite sure. Where shall we begin?”
“Just where we are. I know my own room, so
we need n't bother about that. And I've seen Mr.
Campbell's suite and the room Doctor Morris has.
Also, I know where yours is. What other rooms
are on this floor?”
She told him as they walked down the corridor
toward the left wing. There was an upper library
and reading-room, which no one used. She threw
open the door and showed it to him. There were
also two empty rooms and a bath running along the
front of the house. There was Mrs. Pardee's bed-
room and bath, and a rather elaborate guest suite
occupied by Madame Hvoeslef-of which one big
room was assigned to Wanda and her nurse. Verity
opened the doors of some of these, and pointed out
the locations of all. Renshaw soon had a mental
map of the second floor.
“Are there any long windows and balconies any-
where?” he wanted to know.
Again she shook her head.
The third floor, to which they presently ascended,
held a well equipped billard-room, which, according
to Verity, no one ever entered, a gymnasium over
Renshaw's room, which no one ever used, and
several empty bedrooms and bath-rooms. It also


248 THE BLUE CIRCLE
held, in the rear, the servants' quarters. Like
everything else in the house, these were well lighted
and modern as to their fittings. They included a
large sitting-room with comfortable chairs, reading-
lamps, and tables, an open fire, and a supply of
books, newspapers, and magazines.
"One understands why your staff is so well satis-
fied,” he remarked as he glanced in.
“They don't seem so well satisfied lately.” Ver-
ity's smooth brow puckered. “Even Jenks has
changed a little, and James seemed almost sullen
yesterday. I do hope we are n't going to have
trouble with them, now of all times.”
"Possibly it's the night watching they object to.”
"I suppose so. And yet, on the other hand,
Leoni gives them the most amazing fees. We have
begged her not to, for of course she can't afford it;
but she is used to doing everything on a superb scale
and she is not able to change her ideas. Any serv-
ants, anywhere, would be glad to do what she asks
for what she gives them. And after this, of course,
they won't have to watch."
"Possibly that's what's the matter with them.
Perhaps they see their fat fees departing.”
"Possibly. But I don't think so. They know
her well enough by this time to realize that she will
keep on subsidizing them, on one excuse or another.


250
THE BLUE CIRCLE
“Those are Leoni's,” she said. “They hold
everything she has, poor darling, aside from the
precious memoirs.”
As they returned to the second floor, she de-
scribed to him the plan of the first, with which,
however, he was fairly familiar. Back of the liv-
ing-room, dining-room, and two studies were a huge
kitchen, a butler's pantry, and the twin store-rooms
which Mrs. Pardee had so ardently desired to fill
with sugar.
"Would you like to go down and go through
them?” Verity rather listlessly suggested.
Renshaw looked at her with sudden compunction.
"No," he said. “You 're tired. I should have
remembered that, and not dragged you all over the
house."
"Oh, I'm not tired.” In a gallant effort to prove
that she was not tired, she gave him her first really
spontaneous smile.
“And your room is all right? You have no com-
plaint to make?” she added jestingly.
“Not a complaint-except that I like a few dozen
towels a day, and they are forgotten."
Verity looked surprised.
"Forgotten!” she echoed. "Are you serious ?
Why, that does n't sound like Annie! She literally
festoons my bath-room with towels.” Her eyes fell


THE CLOSED DOOR 251
on the closet door. “But if she does forget,” she
ended, “there are always heaps in this closet. At
least, she's supposed to keep them here—”
She opened the door and entered the closet as she
spoke. Renshaw paused on its threshold for a
moment, and then casually followed her. This was
the third time he had been warmly commended to
that particular closet. He might as well see what
was in it.
What he saw was that it was a windowless closet
the size and shape of his long and narrow bath-
room, but lined with shelves filled with linen. There
was a really fine supply of linen on exhibition, such
a display as any housewife might be proud of.
Verity, contemplating it with her back to him,
tossed him a complacent sentence:
"If you want dozens of towels, here they are.
Any time you find your supply short-” She broke
off with a gasp. “Why did you do that?”
“I did n't!"
His voice came to her out of the sudden blackness
that encompassed them. “The door slammed shut
after me just this instant. And, by Jove” He
had turned and was twisting the door-knob, at first
easily, then fiercely. Now he leaned against the
heavy oak, exerting all his strength to push it out-
ward. It did not yield.


252
THE BLUE CIRCLE
“What's wrong with it?"
The girl's words were breathless. He had had
time to think.
“Why, nothing at all,” he said in matter-of-fact
tones. “The door slammed with such force that it
stuck fast. I'll have it open in a moment!”
“Oh!”
He heard her exhale her caught breath on the
word. She was reassured, but only momentarily.
He himself was not reassured at all. In his hand
the door-knob was turning round and round with-
out resistance. It did not catch and retract the
lock. Yet the knob had worked naturally enough
on the other side. It had opened the door. Of
course, it was possible that the inner knob had got
out of order, and that no one had discovered it.
About the only way one was likely to discover it
was by vainly trying to open the closed door from
the inside. All that might happen. All that was
easily understood.
But—why had the door closed? It had been
half-way open, at right angles with the threshold,
and his hand had not touched it. There was no
draft in the hall to swing it to. Moreover, only on
the wings of an incipient cyclone could a draft be
borne to close a door with the violent slam that had
accompanied the closing upon them of this door.


THE CLOSED DOOR
253
The motive power of the slam was a strong human
push. He was convinced of that. Yet who could
have administered the push? No one had been in
the hall—no one, that is, that he had seen. When
he entered the closet and for that moment stood on
its threshold, the open door itself had cut off from
his vision any one or any thing that might suddenly
have come along the hall.
As he thought, he worked over the knob, twisting
it this way and that way, trying various combina-
tions, pushing against the door quietly but with all
his strength, hoping against hope that the mech-
anism would catch and turn. Unless it did catch
and turn, they were prisoners. All the time he
realized that it would not catch and turn. And he
had nothing in his pockets to work with, not even a
small penknife.
He redoubled his efforts. The knob whirled
smoothly round and round. Perspiration broke out
upon his brow. This was a devilish situation for
the girl to be in! The closet was as black as an
underground dungeon, and so small that, though she
had stepped away from him to give him room to
work, he could hear her quick breathing and the
soft rustle of her garments as she moved.
That wing was the loneliest spot in the house.
Even if they made the biggest kind of racket, it


254
THE BLUE CIRCLE
might be long before any one heard them. Probably
no one would miss them or begin to look for them
till tea-time-possibly not till dinner-time. It was
now three o'clock, at the most. That meant a wait
of hours. And in the interval he would have to
tell the girl the truth. He would have to tell her
the truth at once. She was plucky. She was try-
ing to keep steady. But he realized that she was
fighting an incipient panic.
Yes, "devilish” was the right word for the situa-
tion. It was so absolutely the right word, and it
fitted so perfectly into the pattern of certain other
episodes at Tawno Ker, that a cold conviction settled
over him. Of course, the little accident was not an
accident at all, though it could so easily be made to
seem one. The shutting of that door had been a
malicious action—as deliberately malicious as the
actions that had so disturbed his nights.
From this conclusion to the next was a short step,
and he took it as he patiently experimented with the
useless knob. It was unquestionably another mali-
cious outbreak from that same malicious source.


CHAPTER XVII
BLACK HOURS
I TERITY'S voice came to him out of the black-
ness:
“Can't-you-open-it?”
“Not yet.”
He spoke with robust cheerfulness, and even in
her growing panic the girl took in the complete
change in the quality of his voice. Renshaw's voice
had been one of the things to which she objected in
him. It was in itself an agreeable, even a musical
barytone; but it spoke with an odd flatness, as if
its possessor were out of key with the harmonies of
life. Now it vibrated with a vital quality she had
never heard in it before. She appreciated the
change, but it did not deceive her. She knew he
had put on the tone for her, as he might have put
on a reassuring tone in speaking to Wanda if he
had found the child lost and frightened.
"What is wrong? Is it really only stuck or-is
it locked?”
255


256
THE BLUE CIRCLE
She spoke quite naturally. Insensibly, she had
been calmed and encouraged by his matter-of-fact-
ness.
"The knob turns without retracting the bolt."
He explained the matter in detail, glad to divert her
mind by conversation while he worked.
"Then is there any use going on turning it?":
He laughed a little, and the sound surprised her
even more than his voice had done.
"I suppose not,” he admitted. “But, of course,
I wanted to be sure. If I had any tools—but I
have n't even a penknife."
"Would a hairpin help?”.
"It would in fiction. In real life, and with a
stout old lock like this, I'm afraid it won't. But
we will try it.”
She fumbled in her hair and handed him a few
hairpins of the fine, so-called "invisible” variety.
They were useless for his purpose. "Most of my
hairpins are shell,” she ruefully confessed.
Renshaw experimented patiently but fruitlessly.
“I think the best thing for me to do is to bang on
the door till some one hears us,” he said at last.
"I'm afraid no one will. We're so far from
everybody here."
"One of the servants may pass along the hall.
Anyway, I'll try it. If that does n't work, I 'll


BLACK HOURS
257
see if I can break down the door. You're not
minding this very much, are you?”.
She felt him turn toward her in the blackness.
"I—think not. Of course—it is n't pleasant."
Her breath had caught again, but she spoke with
an effort at a laugh.
"No, it is n't pleasant,” he cheerfully agreed in
those new, robust tones; “but it might be a whole
lot worse. Now I 'll start a tattoo and see if we
can't attract attention.”
He assailed the stout panels of the oak door with
a pair of vigorous fists, varying this by kicking the
panels. After a long time Verity put her hands
over her ears to deaden the din. At last he felt her
touch on his arm.
"Do stop a while,” she begged. “You will wear
yourself out.”
"I'm more apt to wear you out,” he laughed. "I
can keep this up indefinitely, but it's rather hard on
your nerves."
"It does make me feel as if I were in a night-
mare," she confessed. “And—I'm afraid it is n't
doing any good. No one ever comes up here in the
afternoon."
She spoke with a dejection she did not try to con-
ceal. The whole experience was increasingly like a
bad dream.


258 THE BLUE CIRCLE
"We 'll try something else,” said Renshaw. “As
soon as your nerves are rested I'll show you a
human battering-ram in full action. In the mean-
time, I will try quieter methods."
She felt him kneel down on a level with the lock,
and heard again the futile turning and twisting of
the door-knob.
"Have you any matches ?" she asked at last,
almost in a whisper.
"I'm ashamed to say I have n't. Matches were
the first thing I looked for in my pockets. I think
this is about the only time I've ever been without
them. That's what novelists would call the irony
of fate.' "
He continued to work at the lock, whistling softly
under his breath. The air he whistled was a Ru-
manian folk-song that he had heard her sing. She
was still sufficiently mistress of herself to observe
that every note in it was correct and true to pitch.
"I'm getting horribly tired of this frightful black-
ness," she said at last.
“I know. I was afraid you would."
"Don't you—hate it?" In spite of her effort to
keep it steady, Verity's voice vibrated.
cious, no! Why should I? But I
know lots of women don't like being in dark


BLACK HOURS
259
places—” He checked himself. “This does n't
work,” he admitted, ceasing his efforts on the lock.
"Now for the human battering-ram. Get off into
the corner, please, as far as you can, and I'll let
myself out."
She retreated into the corner. The closet was so
narrow that with her arms outstretched she could
have touched its opposite shelves as she moved, but
its length put her eight feet away from him. She
seemed to feel him gathering himself for a supreme
effort. The next moment the very walls shook
under the force of the impact of his powerful shoul-
der against the wood. But the bolt held.
"I can't get any momentum in this shallow
closet,” he briefly commented half a minute later.
“I can only back away a few feet from the door."
He attacked the panels again. To the girl in the
darkness beside him it seemed as if the force of that
impact should have brought down the house, but
the old door and lock seemed built to resist any
assault.
“Mighty solid house you've got here,” he com-
mented rather breathlessly. "Was it built for your
grandfather?”
"No; my great-grandfather had it built about a
hundred years ago. That is, this main building;


262
THE BLUE CIRCLE
Renshaw's had turned at once. “They won't be apt
to miss us till dinner-time," she said slowly. “They
will look for us then. But they may think it is
natural for us not to come to tea to-day, with the
house so upset; and dinner is hours off. Mr. Ren-
shaw,”—her voice took on a note of barely con-
trolled hysteria,—“I know it 's very hard for you,
with me here on your hands. I don't want to make
it harder. But-I am horribly frightened.” The
last words came out with a deep gasp.
"I know. It's awfully unpleasant for you.”
Again she was conscious that he was speaking to
her as he would have spoken to We-wee. "I wish
there were something I could do. But we 'll just
have to be patient till they hear us. In the mean-
time there's nothing, absolutely nothing, to be
afraid of. Now I'll go on trying to rouse the
household."
He acted on the resolution even as he spoke; and
Verity's reply, if she made any, was lost in the
persistent rhythm of the terrific double tattoo he
kept up. After a long time he felt her light touch
on his arm.
"I'm afraid I can't stand any more of it just
now,” she almost whispered.
"Then we 'll talk a while. Sit down on the floor;
you must be tired."


BLACK HOURS 1 263
"No, I'm not tired. But-Mr. Renshaw-I'm
perfectly sure the air is close.”
"That 's natural enough. We are in a small
place."
Renshaw himself would gladly have ceased
breathing at that moment, but to do so would cer-
tainly have alarmed instead of helping the girl.
"If you will sit down you will find the air better,"
he contented himself with saying.
“That's why you wanted me to sit down, is n't
it?" she asked dully. , "It's very good of you—but
I won't sit down.”
“Your imagination is working overtime. Let me
tell you a little experience of my own that shows
what one's imagination can do.”
Renshaw's voice was too careless now. He was
overdoing the pose of the indifferent raconteur.
But his companion, who would have realized this
half an hour earlier, was past such distinctions
now.
"I was on a steamer one night, cruising in a
tropical sea,” he began, keeping up a fist tattoo as
a running accompaniment to his reminiscence. “It
was a stormy night, and I woke up with the feeling
that I was suffocating. There was a big sea run-
ning, and the stewards had locked down both my
state-room windows. I noticed that when I came


THE BLUE CIRCLE
in. I had meant to open the windows after I
turned off the light, but I forgot to do it.”
He was not sure she was listening, but he felt
her growing terror. She was past any comfort
that lay in idle chatter. Nevertheless he went on:
"I got up and tried to turn on the light, but the
switch did n't work. I fumbled at one of the win-
dows, but could n't find the catch. I had never in
my life felt such a horrible sense of oppression.
In groping around my hand touched a heavy mil-
itary brush, and in desperation I finally picked up
that brush and drove it straight through a window.
There was a tremendous crash, of course, and a
lot of flying glass, but no one heard the noise, be-
cause of the storm.”
He was not sure that she was even listening.
Instead, he was listening to her, trying to tell by
her breathing and the sound of her movements how
far her panic had gone.
"I stood by the broken window several minutes,”
he resumed, "gulping in the fresh air that poured
through. It braced me up completely, and I went
back to my berth and fell asleep. When I awoke
the next morning, both my windows were still her-
metically sealed, and the state-room was as hot
as the dickens; but the mirror over the wash-bowl
was smashed to atoms!"


BLACK HOURS
265
Something that was half a laugh and half a
sob came to him out of the darkness. His sense
of pity for the girl became so intense as to be pain-
ful. She was a thoroughbred. She was going
through this beastly experience mighty well. They
had been prisoners fully an hour now, he estimated.
God alone knew how much longer they might be
there. He set his teeth. Then, his thoughts re-
turning to the girl, he spoke persuasively.
“If you would sit down and close your eyes and
try to take a nap,” he suggested, "the time would
pass a lot quicker.”
She laughed again. He did not like the sound at
all. He wished he could see her. This Stygian
darkness was the turn of the screw. Throughout
his story he had not stopped his effort to attract
attention. He increased it now, battering at the
door with fists and feet as long as he thought she
could endure the noise.
"I'm horribly frightened.” The words reached
him in a breathless whisper.
"I am so sorry.” His voice was very gentle.
“But you must keep steady, you know. Hang on
to the fact that there is nothing to be afraid of.
Would you feel better if you called out? Try it,
if you like. Some one might hear you, too,” he
added.
er.


266 THE BLUE CIRCLE
"No. If I began, I'm afraid I might not be able
to stop. I might have hysterics."
"Nonsense! You 're too well poised for that sort
of thing. Why not look at the situation sensibly?"
Renshaw felt that a little brutality might be a good
tonic just now. "We're inconvenienced for a short
time—an hour more, at the most. What's the use
of making a fuss about it?”
"Please don't take that tone. I know you are
doing it to help me, but it does n't help.”
He laughed.
"I thought I'd get a flash out of you. And, you
see, it did help, after all.”
"No, it did n't-it did n't! It made things worse.
It made me afraid of you!"
He was silent for a moment.
"That hurts, Miss Campbell,” he said, at last.
“Is there anything in the world that I can say or do
to reassure you?”
She gulped like a penitent child.
“Yes,” she said. “You can forgive me."
"For what?”
“For saying I was afraid of you. I'm not. I
have n't been, for a single moment. But I'm so
horribly nervous, I don't know what I'm saying.
I'm a coward—I've just discovered it.”
“You 're nothing of the sort. You 're mighty


BLACK HOURS
267
plucky. Most girls would make a lot more fuss
over this than you do."
“Do you really think so?” For a moment she
seemed to pull herself together. "Suppose you were
here alone?” she asked suddenly. “Would n't you
-mind it?"
"Not in the least,” Renshaw lied cheerfully.
“I'd be disgusted, of course. I'm horribly dis-
gusted as it is, because you are having this annoy-
ance. I understand how any girl would feel about
it.”
"But you're not-afraid?”
“Afraid?” Renshaw threw into the simple word
more surprise than he had ever really felt over any-
thing. "What is there to be afraid of?” He
stopped with the effect of studying her in the dark-
ness, and then went on slowly, as if trying with
difficulty to take in a new idea: “You don't mean
that you are really seriously frightened ?"
“Yes, I am.” The girl's voice was defiant but
miserable. "I have always hated the dark. I al-
ways have a dim light in my room at night. It's
the darkness I mind now—the utter blackness, and
the closeness. I feel as if we were shut up in a
tomb."
"Like Aïda and her young man,” Renshaw frivo-
lously commented. He was so sorry for the girl


268
THE BLUE CIRCLE
that his throat ached, so anxious about her that the
pit of his stomach felt cold; but he went on cheer-
fully: “Let them be a lesson to you. All the re-
prisal they offered was to sing."
"I'm afraid you don't appreciate 'Aïda.'"
The girl was pathetically trying to play up.
Again his throat contracted.
“Not especially. I've always seen some elephan-
tine prima donna in the leading rôle, and it has been
hard to take her sufferings seriously. But I like the
music. We might try the duet now, if you like,"
he ended lightly.
"Please don't laugh at me."
“I won't-if you will admit that you are foolish
to mind a gay little adventure like this.”
“You call it gay?”
"Oh, well,”—he appeared to give his mind to
the problem while he battered the oak door,-“I
will substitute the word 'amusing,' if you like that
better.”
"Do you mind if I—if 1–” there was a very
long pause; “_if I hold your hand?" she brought
out at last.
"You may hold the right one,” he graciously con-
ceded, accepting the request as the most natural one
in the world. "I've got to keep on banging with the
left.” He extended his hand in the darkness, found


BLACK HOURS
269
the small one that was groping toward him, and
took it in a firm, close grasp.
Again he felt the odd contraction of the throat he
had experienced before. He knew what it had been
to Verity Campbell to make that request. He knew
that, having made it, her pride was in the dust, like
a trailing flag. He seemed suddenly to know a
great many other things about her as he felt the
quiver of that small cold hand in his own.
"I'll keep on beating with the left,” he repeated,
efficiently combining the words with the action,
“because about this time Morris ought to be getting
back from his calls. I've seen him use the main
staircase several times; and if he does it to-day-
unless he's more absent-minded than I think he is
-he's going to realize that some one would appre-
ciate the honor of his attention."
“Oh-do you think he 'll come soon?"
The hand in his was growing warmer and more
steady. The human contact was doing its work.
Now, under the hope aroused by his words, Verity
grasped his arm with her other hand and was cling-
ing to him.
"Of course he 'll come soon. Morris is not the
man to neglect the most important patient he has
ever had. Also, the incomparable Jenks has told
him that tea is served at five o'clock, and that your


272 THE BLUE CIRCLE
"I feel so strange," she murmured. “It's the
air. I can't get a deep breath-"
He dropped her hands and started an assault on
the door that was frenzied in its desperation. He
would get the girl out of that hole, he decided, if
he had to batter down the walls of this damned
house. He'd rouse some of those deaf fools who
were dozing in distant wings. He'd make them
think the last trump was sounding-
He had resumed the role of the human battering-
ram. Verity was past protest, and he kept it up.
Suddenly, head first, he pitched into the outer cor-
ridor with such force that he struck and recoiled
from the opposite wall. Behind him, Verity, clutch-
ing the sides of the open closet door, swayed weakly
and blinked at him in dawning, incredulous under-
standing and relief. Facing them both, the incom-
parable Jenks, all self-control and presence of mind
departed, helplessly gasped and stuttered.
“My Gawd!” he said, over and over. “And you
in there, too, Miss Campbell, and 'most suf-
focated—”
Renshaw put him aside and caught the girl's arm
as she blinked and swayed.
"It was pretty bad while it lasted, but it's over
now,” he said cheerfully. "Steady her on the other






GKGACE
"My Gawd,” said Jenks, "and you in there too—"


BLACK HOURS
273
side, Jenks, and we 'll get her to her room. Here,
hurry up!"
For Jenks was examining the door to discover
the cause of the accident. His face had an odd,
chalky look that, even in the excitement of the mo-
ment, Renshaw noticed. At the latter's crisp order
he found his wits, and hurried to the other side of
Verity to take her arm.
"It might of killed her,” he dazedly muttered.
"Nothing of the sort!” Renshaw shot a warn-
ing look at him over her head. “Some one was
bound to hear the noise we kept up. I can't under-
stand why you did n't hear it sooner.”
"I did hear it sooner, sir,” Jenks confessed, abject
under the shock he had received. “I heard it for
more than an hour. But I did n't pay any attention
to it, because I thought it came from somewhere
outside.” He returned to his original refrain: "She
might of been suffocated !”
"Well, she's all right now. Here you are, Miss
Campbell, safe at the door of your own room.
Better lie down for a while."
He opened the door for her, watched her walk
unsteadily across the threshold, closed the door, and
looked at Jenks.
“Get a glass of sherry for Miss Campbell, and


274
THE BLUE CIRCLE
then bring a whisky-and-soda to my room," he
directed.
Jenks did not return his usual brisk affirmative.
He did not even move from the spot where he stood.
The fact that the secretary's peril had at least been
equal to that of his young mistress obviously did
not interest or concern him. Renshaw watched him
with a tolerant understanding of his viewpoint.
“She might of been suffocated,” Jenks slowly
repeated.


276 THE BLUE CIRCLE
match's flame. In the big fireplace a blaze leaped
and spread
All this was routine work of an excellent machine
that mechanically performed its functions. But
Renshaw, empty-minded for the moment and phys-
ically all in, and thus possibly hypersensitive to the
aura of another, felt the heat of a smoldering emo-
tion in that other each time the man approached him.
It was as if Jenks blamed him for the near-catas-
trophe of the afternoon. Nevertheless, he leaned
back in his chair with a warming sense of well-
being. He agreed with Morris in his tribute to
Jenks. Jenks certainly knew how to make a man
comfortable. Jenks spoke:
"All right now, sir?" His voice, as always, was
smoothly respectful.
“All right, thanks. Did Miss Campbell drink
her sherry?"
"Yes, sir.” Jenks hesitated. Then, “Might I ask
just how it happened, sir?" he mellowly inquired.
Renshaw welcomed the question. He desired the
servants to know just how it had happened, if Jenks
intended to discuss the matter below-stairs.
"Simplest thing in the world,” he said lightly.
“Miss Campbell was showing me through the house.
When we reached this hall, I said something about
ci


278
THE BLUE CIRCLE
being, what I'° The at
Jenks now looked frankly incredulous; but his
reply, as always, was deferential:
“That could hardly be, sir, could it? Why would
any one shut it? Who would want to? And even
if any one wanted to, how could it be done without
you seeing, sir ?”
"That's what I'd like to know myself.” Ren-
shaw spoke wearily. The after-strain of the episode
was telling on him. Jenks nodded and took up the
tray.
"It was a regrettable incident, sir," he said quietly
but firmly, “due to the unfortunate condition of the
knob. I have given orders to have the knob repaired
in the morning."
Renshaw did not answer. Every word Jenks had
uttered had convinced him that the butler knew all
about that door; but he was also aware that Jenks
did not intend to share his knowledge. The solu-
tion that suggested itself seemed preposterous. His
brief sense of well-being departed under the mental
jolt of the conversation. Tawno Ker was taking a
lot out of him. He wondered what comments
Jenks would make on other recent episodes that had
occurred. Probably they, too, were "regrettable
incidents.”
Jenks oozed from the room, carrying his tray, but


THE SEARCH
279
thoughtfully leaving the decanter and siphon behind
him. Renshaw, however, did not refill his glass.
His thoughts had swung back to Verity. How
plucky the girl had been! She had shown the finest
kind of pluck, the spiritual courage that rises above
physical terror. He had realized at the time how
great her panic had been; but she had kept steady,
though that small hand of hers had been so cold and
trembling. He seemed to feel it now, fluttering in
his palm, and at the memory a thrill shot through
him-unexpected, confusing, incredible-yes, most
of all, incredible. Under it he actually caught his
breath. Then, crouching over the fire, he embraced
his knee in his favorite position for reflection, and
deliberately let the memory of the afternoon's ad-
venture flood his mind. As its episodes returned to
him one by one, his admiration for the girl grew
with each. She would actually have suffocated
rather than take what she considered more than her
“share” of the diminishing air supply!
He wondered how much longer she could have
held her self-control, and what would have happened
if Jenks had not heard him for, say, another hour.
That was not a reflection his mind cared to dwell
upon. He switched from it to the memory of the
butler's genuine consternation when he discovered


280
THE BLUE CIRCLE
that Miss Campbell, as well as Renshaw, had been a
prisoner. Her discomfort, her possible danger,
had affected him. Renshaw was glad of that.
He looked at his watch. It was half-past five.
He and Verity Campbell must have been in that in-
fernal closet almost two hours. Tea would be on
in the living-room. He decided to go down, on the
remote chance that Verity might be there. But he
found only Madame Hvoeslef at the tea-table. She
greeted him with pleasure.
“Ah, Monsieur Renshaw," she said gaily, “it is
good that you are here. I have felt almost a guilt
to be so comfortable when all others are anxious.
Verity_Miss Campbell—she is with her grand-
father?”
The last sentence was a statement rather than a
question, and Renshaw answered it with a vague
murmur to the effect that he did not know. Madame
Hvoeslef's manner showed that she knew nothing of
the occurrence of the afternoon, but she promptly
demonstrated that she knew exactly how to interest
a young man during a tête-à-tête over the tea-cups.
He threw off his preoccupation and responded to
her mood, warming himself in her magnetic pres-
ence as if she had been a solitary fire in a cold house.
The foreigner, as he had subconsciously realized,
knew every move of every phase of the great social


THE SEARCH
281
game. She was interested in this young man, and
here was her first opportunity to study him alone
and at close range. Everything was set for an
atmosphere of intimacy—their position in an
anxious household, his partial knowledge of her his-
tory, the increased interest and sympathy due to that
knowledge, which she took for granted.
He followed her initial plays with skill and tact.
His manner held a perfect balance between deep
respect and the growing fascination a young man
may feel for a brilliant and beautiful woman old
enough to be at least his aunt. But at her first
gentle tap on the closed door of his past—that door
which had been barred for two years—the responsive
youth before her momentarily reverted to the un-
easy ghost to which Verity had compared him.
Madame Hvoeslef ceased to tap almost before he
was sure he had heard the subtle summons. She
was far away from the door, and drawing him after
her with the half-laughing, half-sentimental chal-
lenge to which she almost convinced him the tap had
merely been leading up. But she had learned her
lesson. One could flirt with this young man if one
chose, but one could not ask him questions. She
kept to the safe ground, which ignored the past and
assumed a gay but almost tender intimacy in the
present.


284
THE BLUE CIRCLE
tel.
even lovelier. The evening gown she wore was one
he had not seen before, a shimmering thing of white
and silver, set off by a long, double-looped chain of
pearls, over the beauty of which Madame Hvoeslef
at once exclaimed.
"But I love you in those, chérie," she said. “I
always rejoice when you wear them. Pearls were
made for you. You should wear no other jewels."
“These were Aunt Katharine’s,” Verity explained.
"She gave them to me on my last birthday. They
came down to her from her great-grandmother, and
every generation since has added to the necklace,
until now there is really too much of it. I feel like
a Christmas tree festooned with popcorn when I
have it on.”
"But it is perfect. It is one of the finest I have
seen—and that says much.”
Madame Hvoeslef ended on a note that two of her
hearers rightly interpreted. She was thinking of
her jewels of former days, and wondering on what
plebeian heads and 'throats those diamonds and
emeralds rested now. Verity changed the subject.
"Did you see grandfather before you came down ?”
she asked Renshaw.
"I looked in for a moment, but he was asleep or
still unconscious—I don't know which.”


286 THE BLUE CIRCLE
health. He is the type to take his illness very
seriously for a day or two, till you convince him
that he is on the mend.”
"I suppose so.” Morris's words were non-com-
mittal, but his expression brightened. He ate his
dinner with his usual appreciation and strict atten-
tion to the enterprise.
Catching Verity's glance, Renshaw smiled at her
reassuringly, and received a rather tremulous smile
in return. No reference whatever had been made
to the closet episode. It was clear that neither
Morris nor Madame Hvoeslef had heard of it. It
became clear that they were not to hear of it—that
an unspoken but understood order to that effect had
been issued. No one would know of it save Jenks,
and the discretion of Jenks, as far as members of
the family were concerned, could be relied upon.
"What did you do this afternoon?" Madame
Hvoeslef was addressing Verity.
"I read and rested. I wanted to sit with grand-
father a while, but the nurse sent me away.”
Morris nodded. “That was right,” he contrib-
uted. “With all deference to you, my dear young
lady, the fewer in the sick-room just now the better.
In fact, my advice would be for every one to keep
out for a day or two. But we 'll see what Doctor
Stanley says. He's coming down in the morning."


288 THE BLUE CIRCLE
asking for some one—Renshaw, I think the name
was.”
Renshaw leaned over the thin figure stretched out
in such pathetic helplessness. The features of the
fine old face were drawn into a pucker, as if by taut
nerves.
“Mr. Campbell,” he said, speaking very clearly.
The blue eyes of David Campbell opened and fixed
themselves on the eyes above them. Something
flashed in them-a light, a question, an appeal.
Whatever it was, the secretary tried to respond to it.
"You 're getting on finely, sir," he said, very
slowly and distinctly. “We are all so glad. And I
want to report that I am keeping my eyes wide open.
I think I understand what you meant. I have taken
precautions. I am on the job. Please leave every--
thing to me."
The childish pucker died out of the face. The
look in the blue eyes—a look made up of anxiety,
of fear, with even a suggestion of terror, changed
to one of acquiescence. The stiff lips tried to speak,
and finally brought out a word:
“Right!"
One of the old man's hands groped toward him.
Renshaw took it and pressed it warmly.
“Trust me,” he said. “Don't worry. Good
night.”


290
THE BLUE CIRCLE
he did, he'd get a local constable or some one to keep
watch-and then he'd forget it."
"If we were in a picture play,” Renshaw slowly
continued, “I might be tempted to think that some
outsider had got into the house and was hiding
here."
“What makes you think that?”
“Things I've heard and seen.”
“Good Lord!" Morris stared at him in worried
incredulity. “Why not have the place searched, if
you feel that way? Have it done to-night. That's
easy, is n't it?”
"I suppose so.”
Renshaw was not sure whether it would be wise
or not.
"It can be done, can't it?” Morris persisted.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then, since you 're supposed to be in charge,"-
Morris's voice was ironical as he shook off the effect
of his companion's words,"why not do it?"
"I will,” Renshaw briskly decided.
The physician, his hands still in his pockets, stared
down at the floor.
"It all seems a mare's nest to me,” he blurted.
"But of course I don't want to neglect anything that
ought to be done."
"Nor I. Suppose we take Jenks with us, after


THE SEARCH
291
CO
the card game, and go through the place thor-
oughly?”
“You 're on. We'll dig into every nook and
corner. The ladies won't play later than eleven, I
suppose.”
"It's not likely.”
For reasons of his own, Renshaw was not en-
thusiastic over Morris's plan, but he liked it better
as he considered it. He decided that the search
should be a drastic one-should even take in the
quarters of the women servants. To that end, of
course, they must enlist the aid of Annie. But
nothing need be said to any one until the hour for
the search had arrived. Then, if Annie had gone to
bed, she could get up again. And, naturally, noth-
ing must leak out to alarm the women.
His mind was so wholly on what was to come
that he played a rather uneven game of bridge.
Nevertheless, he and Madame Hvoeslef chastened
Verity and Morris by winning two rubbers out of
three. He was mildly annoyed by a new manner
the foreigner had taken on—a subtle but understand-
ing air that gaily assumed his acceptance of the rôle
of knight errant. He was glad when the game was
over and she and Verity had gone to their rooms.
Left alone in the living-room, the two men grinned
at each other rather sheepishly.


292
THE BLUE CIRCLE
"Going through with it?” Morris asked, with
ostentatious indifference. He himself was ready to
give it up, now convinced that the whole business
was, as he had said before, "a mare's nest.”
"Of course."
Morris yawned. “All right."
Renshaw rang for Jenks, who entered with his
usual prompt noiselessness and that dear companion
of the bed-time hour, his ready tray. The secre-
tary waved it aside.
"Not yet, Jenks,” he said. As the man waited,
he added: “Doctor Morris and I have decided to
take a look through the house."
“Again, sir?” In his amazement, Jenks dropped
his perfect manner. "I beg pardon, sir," he hur-
riedly added, “but I thought you went through this
morning."
“I got a general plan of the place this morning,
but I did n't go deep enough. Jenks,” he added with
an ingratiating air of frankness, “absurd as it may
sound, I have suggested to Doctor Morris that there
may be some one hiding in this house. We have
decided to make a search to-night.”
“Now, sir?"
“Yes. Right now."
The face of Jenks took on a look of patient resig-
nation, tinged with respectful sympathy.


THE SEARCH
293
"It does seem absurd, sir," he permitted himself
to observe. “Of course you know, sir, one of us
has been on guard every night.”
"Have you guarded my wing of the house?”
The moment the question was out, Renshaw
realized his mistake. Morris gazed at him in wide-
eyed astonishment. Jenks lowered his eyes, but not
soon enough to conceal the expression of them. He
replied without looking at the young man.
“No, sir,” he said softly. "I did n't think, sir, if
you 'll excuse my saying so, that yours was the im-
portant wing, sir."
Renshaw grinned at him with full appreciation of
the point he had made.
"I ask it because all the noises I have heard and
the things I have seen have been in my wing," he
kindly explained. “Naturally, not being on guard,
like you, I was not roaming through other wings at
night.”
Jenks seemed to have caught only two words.
“Noises, sir?” he repeated with interest. “Things?
What were they like, sir, if I may ask?”
Renshaw turned to Morris. "Suppose we start
in the basement and go right on up?" he suggested.
“All right.”
The interest of Morris had cooled till it was
barely tepid. He had been impressed by the patient


THE SEARCH
295
"Yes, sir," he said respectfully. “Certainly, sir.
I am not afraid to lead, sir. I have not, if I may
say it, a nervous or imaginative temperament.”


298
THE BLUE CIRCLE
have another talk about him when Stanley came in
the morning
The search of the house had been thorough, so
thorough that it included the discovery of a startled
and pajamaed Hart in the servants' sitting-room,
taking his comfort with stockinged feet on the table-
top; of women servants in negligée and curl-papers;
of Miss Daisy and the man James sitting on a dark
staircase and obviously lost to the world in the charm
of each other's society; of We-wee dreaming of
white cows in the care of an outraged nurse, who
protested against the intrusion in an unintelligible
foreign tongue that seemed full of shocking words.
Disregarding the cautions of his companions, Jenks
had flung open every door they reached, save, of
course, those leading to the sick-room and the apart-
ments of Mrs. Pardee, Verity, and Madame Hvoes-
lef. At the entrance to these he had paused ostenta-
tiously, apparently ready at a word to reveal their
secrets, too. Renshaw motioned him forward with
a single gesture that made Jenks look thoughtful.
It was a strong and eloquent gesture.
They had searched the cellar, the store-rooms, the
attic, and the floors in between. They had looked
into the innumerable closets of the big house, includ-
ing the closet near Renshaw's room, from which, he
was interested to observe, both knobs had been re-


A LITTLE SOUVENIR
299
moved. With their pocket search-lights they had
explored every dark corner. And as they traveled
from room to room and from floor to floor, the
growing silence of the old house had enfolded them
like a wadded garment.
"Well, good night.” Morris set down his glass
with an emphasis designed to express finality and
thus to prevent the willing Jenks from refilling it.
He grinned at Renshaw. “Pleasant dreams," he
added.
Renshaw returned the benediction with the smile
he had mislaid for two years and had recovered
only in the past twenty-four hours. The smile held
a genuine amusement. He knew that both Morris
and Jenks believed he had insisted on the search
because he himself was nervous and overwrought.
He mounted to his room with mixed sensations,
of which perhaps the strongest was physical fatigue.
He had had a fairly strenuous day, and very little
sleep the preceding night to prepare him for it. He
hoped for a good night's sleep now. For reasons
that he did not stop to analyze, he did not expect
any new activities between now and dawn in his
wing of the house.
So the blue circle, when it came, was a surprise.
By touching his eyes, it roused him out of his first
excursion into unconsciousness—an excursion so


300
THE BLUE CIRCLE
brief that he returned with all his faculties alert.
Half an hour later he heard the familiar thud; and
now came the crawling and the heavy breathing as
of some huge, spent creature in distress. He sat
up in bed and slipped his hand under his mattress.
He had left his pistol there the night before, but his
hand groped for it in vain. He slipped out of bed
and made a more careful search. The pistol had
been removed. The fact did not surprise him.
He would have been very much surprised to find the
pistol in its place.
He slipped his dressing-gown over his pajamas
and crept to the door, stopping to procure the second
pistol from its hiding-place in his trunk. He had
oiled his door earlier in the day, and had locked it
on the inside before he went to bed. Now he noise-
lessly turned the key that retracted the lock. He
would wait until the crawling, panting thing in the
hall got very close, and then he would follow his
original plan of leaping out upon it. Catapulting
out into the darkness as he would, and landing on
top of whatever was there, he would have a decided
advantage.
The crawling thing came nearer. The handle of
his door moved, but he was prepared for that. He
had braced his entire weight against the panels.
He heard the sound of heavy breathing at the key- .


A LITTLE SOUVENIR
301
hole. Now was his time. He gathered himself
for the leap, and jerked the knob. The door held
fast. Yet the lock was not caught. He had seen
to that. Some one, or some thing, outside had in
some way caught or was holding it. For the
second time that day he was a prisoner, and the
neat little devices that would have picked a lock
merely bolted from the outside lay useless in the
pocket of his dressing-gown.
He whistled under his breath. For now the climb-
ing had begun. The thing was again approaching
his transom, reaching it, clawing at it with an arm
that looked grotesque in the dim light. He retreated
toward his bed. The transom was too small to
admit any large object, but he did not care to have
anything drop on him through it.
This time the glass of the transom yielded to the
groping fingers. The transom window slid slowly
inward and upward, as if it had been oiled in prep-
aration for just that purpose. If he were near
enough to the door and to a chair on which he could
suddenly spring, he might catch and hold on to that
groping hand. He crept toward the door, and then
suddenly dropped to the floor, flattening himself
out as he fell. A sudden flare-up of the almost
dead cinders in the grate had shown him something
shining in the hand. He did not know what it was.


304
THE BLUE CIRCLE
driven that knife anywhere else in the room—say
at the bed, or at a vital spot of a dark object flat-
tened on the floor. Renshaw meditated for a mo-
ment on this obvious conclusion. The conclusion
that followed it was equally obvious. Whoever
threw that knife did not like him, but was not pre-
pared to go quite so far as to kill him.
He drew out the knife with the feeling of dis-
taste natural under the circumstances, and dropped
it into a drawer of his chiffonnier. On the journey
across the room, he paused briefly at a front win-
dow, looked out, and shook his head. Then, cast-
ing off his slippers and dressing-gown, he got back
into bed. For a young man who had gone through
a fairly exciting experience he seemed remarkably
calm. Indeed, as he bunched a pillow comfortably
under his cheek and turned his face toward the
wall, he indulged in a change of facial expression
that was almost startling—for it took the form of
a large and expansive grin.


CHAPTER XX
JOHN R. HAMILTON
DOLLOWING the arrival of Doctor Stanley,
T who breezed into the sick-room at noon the
next day, the strained atmosphere of Tawno Ker
lightened still more. Doctor Stanley was gratified
by the condition of his patient, and said so. He
approved of the nurses, and was careful to let them
see that he did. He liked Morris as a man and
considered him a good type of common-sense, coun-
try practitioner; and he allowed Morris to infer that
his opinion was much more enthusiastic than this.
Under the effect of all this, the attendants in the
sick-room bloomed freshly, like newly watered
plants.
Renshaw, too, had entered upon the jocund morn-
ing with a valiant resolve to be cheerful; and this
was strong enough to survive even the effects of the
mildly patronizing manner with which Morris had
greeted him at the breakfast-table. Morris was al-
most too effervescent. He felt on such intimate
terms with the world in general, and the great Stan-
305


306
THE BLUE CIRCLE
ley in particular, that after the professional consul-
tation in the study, which followed an excellent
luncheon, he felt privileged to refer to the case of
Renshaw.
He described the "mare's nest” of the night
before, and hinted at his doubts of the secretary's
complete convalescence. But Stanley, who had
been in such affable accord with him over Camp-
bell's case that Morris almost imagined he himself
was the diagnostician, shook his head at this.
"Don't make up your mind too soon,” he advised.
"Anything Renshaw says is worth looking into.”
"But is n't he still rather-well—rather hipped ?"
"Only on one point. He's got, or had, just one
obsession left. He is, or was, afraid he can't make
a living. He 'll get over that in a hurry. It 's
particularly idiotic when one considers his record.”
He stopped and glanced quizzically at the other man.
"Have you any idea who he is ?”
“No. Is he any one in particular?”
“Rather!"
Stanley's eyes twinkled. He enjoyed getting a
rise out of the country doctor, especially since the
latter had put on this know-it-all and man-of-the-
world air.
"He's John R. Hamilton,” he added casually.
“I suppose the 'R' stands for Renshaw, though he


308
THE BLUE CIRCLE
and a lot of women, not to speak of a foreigner
who was supposed to be in personal danger, he
would inevitably be pushed into the very thing he
was trying to avoid-responsibility. I knew he .
was up to any job that came along. The only
difficulty was to make him realize that he was.
Well, he's got responsibility now, all right, and I'm
delighted with the way he is taking it. Things are
working out as I hoped. After he has run this
place a little longer, as he will be forced to do, and
Campbell's affairs as well, he will be up to anything
—and he will know he is.”
"I understand.”
Morris did not understand very clearly. His
thoughts were on another phase of the subject.
"Of course it was the Adenic tragedy that knocked
him out,” he reflected aloud. “Did n't he and his
mother and sister and little niece drift around in a
life-boat all night, after their ship was torpedoed ?
I remember reading about it at the time"
"Yes; and he had to watch his mother and sister
and the child die slowly of cold and exhaustion.
They were his entire family. His twin sister was
young widow, and incidentally the most beautiful
woman I ever knew," Stanley mused, “as well as
about the most charming. The devotion between


CHAPTER XXI
A TÊTE-À-TÊTE
THE house seemed unexpectedly lonely without
Morris's homely but comforting presence.
Renshaw, working in the study all afternoon, and
not stopping for tea, did not observe the change
until the dinner-hour. Then he found at the table
only Verity and a wan Mrs. Pardee, whose heroic
upward struggle from a couch of pain had been
made possible, it appeared, only by the lady's un-
selfish devotion to others. Notwithstanding her
sufferings, Mrs. Pardee had adorned herself for the
ordeal with her customary splendor.
"Where can I wear my pretty clothes if not here?”
she plaintively inquired, when Renshaw congrat-
ulated her on a really striking gown. Her pallor
was especially noticeable in contrast with a superb
diamond-and-emerald collar she wore, of which the
clasp kept coming loose. Twice the collar all but
landed in its wearer's food-mishaps that did not
in the least ruffle the lady's poise.
318


320
THE BLUE CIRCLE
counted James and Annie. Hart might or might
not be included in the little coterie that, in the ser-
vants' quarters, discussed the incident.
None of the servants seemed quite normal to-
night. Even Jenks was preoccupied; and the hand
of James was so unsteady that, when he suddenly
met Renshaw's eye as he was filling Mrs. Pardee's
claret-glass, he permitted the wine to overflow on to
the tablecloth. Altogether the atmosphere of the
dining-room was not agreeable. The round table
had been made smaller, but the three diners felt lost
at it, and the monotonous trickle of Mrs. Pardee's
monologue did little to offset the constraint that
hung over the room.
When the meal was over, Renshaw accompanied
the two women to the door and held it open for
them. Then, returning to the table, he took a cig-
arette from the box Jenks offered him, lit it at the
flame the attentive servitor also provided, and leaned
back in his chair, ostentatiously abstracted, but in
reality alert and watchful. That the two servants
resented his presence he was quite aware. He drank
his coffee, sipped a cordial with calm enjoyment,
and followed to their hinterlands the mental proc-
esses of the men in the room with an accuracy that
would have amazed them if they had been able to
follow his.


A TÊTE-À-TÊTE 321
To fetch and carry for this intruder in the house-
hold, to take his orders and to kow-tow to him, had
been no part of their plan. Each now regretted that
he had not refused such service from the start.
Each was constrained, by a force whose nature he
hardly understood, to carry on the farce of deferen-
tial service, now that he had begun it. Doubtless
James was also under orders from Jenks to do this.
Renshaw prolonged his smoke and cordial-sipping
to the last possible moment. He was intrigued by
this atmosphere of intense but controlled resentment,
by glimpses of unlooked-for expression in previously
expressionless faces whose masks were slipping
aside.
He returned to the living-room with a reluct-
ance due to his expectation of finding Mrs. Pardee
there. But the strain of the dinner-hour had been
the limit of her endurance. Verity, alone before
the fire and buried in the depths of her grandfather's
pet chair, unsmilingly explained this to Renshaw.
"Aunt Katharine fusses constantly over trifles,"
she said, “and passes over real troubles as if they
did not exist. She is not at all worried about
grandfather, and yet, all this autumn, if she caught
him walking in the grounds without his rubbers she
worried about it for days."
Renshaw murmured some reply-he did not know


322 THE BLUE CIRCLE
just what. He had made a discovery that held all
his attention. He had discovered that it was a
wonderful experience to be sitting alone before the
fire, in this cozy Darby-and-Joan fashion, with the
girl he had so recently and intensely disliked. Her
mere presence and the sound of her voice were mak-
ing him absurdly happy and a little dizzy. He was
afraid to speak to her. He knew that his voice
would not sound natural. His murmured response
might have meant anything or nothing. He did
not look at her. He leaned forward, his eyes on
the fire, his hands clasping one of his knees, and
waited breathlessly for her to go on speaking.
"I have not had a chance to thank you for-for-
the way you acted yesterday,” she said in a low tone.
"You were splendid. I shall never forget it.”
He found his voice.
"You exaggerated that little episode at the time,”
he said gently, "and you are exaggerating it still.”
"It might have been very serious,” she went on
slowly, more to herself than to him. “It was quite
possible that we might be left there till dinner-time.
With the whole house demoralized by grandfather's
illness, no one would have missed us” She
checked herself as a new thought occurred to her.
"Have you noticed how different the servants
are?” she abruptly asked.


324
THE BLUE CIRCLE
fact, it infuriated them. No doubt it accounts for
their changed manner to-day.”
“Why did you do it?" she asked curiously.
“Oh, for several reasons. I feel a sense of
responsibility, you know.” He hesitated a moment.
“And I have n't forgotten your grandfather's in-
structions to watch.”
"You don't think that meant anything new? You
did n't think so at the time.”
"Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But there's no
harm in keeping one's eyes open. However, don't
let's talk about those things. Let's talk about-
you!"
She looked at him in quick surprise. It was che
first time he had sounded the personal note. The
unexpectedness of it startled her, but only for a
moment. She smiled, and the smile illuminated
her beautiful face.
“What do you want to know?"
“Why you dislike me so much."
The directness of the attack startled her again,
and her confusion prompted some evasive reply.
But before she spoke she looked at him. He had
turned his chair sidewise and was leaning forward,
his eyes on her face. Something in his expression
moved her.
"I don't dislike you," she soberly assured him.


326
THE BLUE CIRCLE
man would resent such an affront to his-well, let
us say his self-respect.”
She flushed.
“I must have been abominably rude."
"Oh, no, you were never rude. You merely took
no special pains to conceal what novelists like to call
'the nature of your feelings.' What I am trying to
get at,” he patiently repeated, “is the explanation of
those particular feelings.".
“Why—1–1–” She was stammering helplessly
now, trying to find pleasant words for an unpleasant
admission. A rising wind yammered in the big
chimney.
"You did n't trust me?"
“It did n't exactly amount to that."
“What it did amount to,” he persisted, "was that
you thought I was about one tenth of a man—that
I had come out of the sanatorium without poise,
without courage, without self-respect. Was n't that
it?”
"You are making it entirely too strong," she pro-
tested warmly. "If I had thought all those things
I should have been sorry for you—sympathetic, I
mean. What I felt in you was a kind of inner force
and domination that you exercised perhaps uncon-
sciously, but without-without-"


A TÊTE-À-TÊTE
331
his unsuspected hiding-place in the closet, would be
a sad surprise to the visitor and, he hoped, a heavy
burden on the latter's neck. It was all well thought
out and logical.
As he passed from the dark hall into the darker
closet his foot struck an unlooked-for obstruction.
It appeared to be a bundle, huge and hard—so hard,
indeed, that the impact against its unyielding side
hurt his foot. He suppressed a rude word, and in
the next instant struck out with all his strength,
while he gasped and gurgled as he jerked his head
backward, swaying with another figure in the closet's
limited space. Thus far, despite his plans, the other
figure had all the advantage. It had not only taken
him wholly by surprise, but it had also taken him
firmly by the throat.


CHAPTER XXII
FOUR OF A KIND
D ENSHAW'S first impression was that the
thing that had caught him was amazingly
powerful. His next, as their struggle carried him
and it past the yielding closet door and into the hall,
was that in the dim light it was horribly grotesque.
It seemed to be a hairy thing, and perhaps also a
masked thing. He could not see clearly enough to
be sure whether it had a mask or merely a strikingly
repellent face. His next discovery was in a way
reassuring. The grasp on his throat-which, de-
spite his efforts, he could not shake off, though it
was slowly strangling him—was simply the grasp
of a pair of very strong human hands.
The battle, though intense, was a strangely silent
one. Neither fighter uttered a sound. Both were
down on the carpeted floor, interlocked in a close
grip, rolling, twisting, and straining. Renshaw felt
his tongue protruding and his eyes popping out of
his head. His blood rang in his ears. Unless he
could shake off that grasp
332


FOUR OF A KIND
333
After what seemed an eternity of effort, he aid so
—and gulped in a breath of air with a gasp
that was the first sound of the encounter. He still
had his hands more than full. The fellow he was
fighting was an expert, up to all sorts of tricks, and
unfettered by any rules of the game. Moreover,
he was in condition, and the secretary was not sure
of his own staying power. The silent struggle
went on, Renshaw inch by inch forcing his adver-
sary across the threshold and into his bed-
room.
There the combat continued with the growing in-
tensity of desperation. A chair went down. The
reading-table by the fireplace fell, and the unlit
lamp crashed against the brass fender. Each of the
fighters appeared to have the same inspiration about
that fender. If a man's head were brought against
it with sufficient force, that man would be out of
commission for a time. Both contestants were be-
coming exhausted, and both were now showing it.
Their breath came raggedly. Renshaw found him-
self on top of the other, and with something between
his hands that was thick and slippery. He was con-
scious of agonizing pain. One of his fingers had
been bitten almost through. He turned sick, but
hung on to the throat that choked and gurgled. He
knew he could not hold on much longer. His


334
THE BLUE CIRCLE
strength was almost spent. But suddenly the figure
under him grew limp.
He was prepared for more tricks. He knelt on
his antagonist's chest and dug his fingers deeper
into the throat, taking advantage of the respite to
fill his own lungs with air. But there was some-
thing reassuring about the continued limpness and
stillness of the sprawled thing under him. After a
brief wait he took from one of his pockets some of
the light, strong cord with which he had provided
himself, and bound the figure where it lay. Done
in the darkness, it was not a very neat job, but it
was a thorough one.
When he had finished it he rose, straightened
himself, drew a few more deep breaths, and shut
his bedroom door. Then, turning on the lights, he
surveyed his prisoner.
The man lay face downward, as he had been
turned during the binding. Obviously, he had worn
a combined mask and light headpiece. Their
tattered remnants strewed the floor. The garment
that had looked and felt like hair was a one-piece
affair of some fuzzy material that covered the
wearer from neck to ankles. Combined with the
mask and headpiece, the outfit would have served
very well as a masquerade costume representing a
man ape. To heighten its effect, to-night's mas-


FOUR OF A KIND
337
Again the man was silent.
“Was it?"
"Have it your own way," muttered the prisoner.
“So we had the thumps and the crawling sound
and the climbing sound and the locked doors and the
black hand and the knife-throwing act and the closet
episode. Did you do all that yourself?”.
"Annie shut that closet door, damn her! She
might of killed Miss Campbell.”
“And you did n't want that?”
“Of course I did n't."
"Why not? You seemed to be ready for any-
thing."
Jenks was weary of the conversation. He gave
the inquisitive gentleman another rude bit of advice
which that serene individual quietly ignored.
“So you did it all yourself, aided by the bundle
of bricks I just fell over in the closet. You dropped
that through the transom of the up-stairs study,
did n't you? I understand. But how about that
infernal light—the blue circle? Flash-light effect,
of course, but where were you?”
"Aw, what's the use ? Shut up."
Renshaw prodded him urgently. "Better answer,"
he advised. “I'm not a patient man, though I've
given you a lot of rope in the last two days. I sus-
pected you almost from the first, and I've been on


338
THE BLUE CIRCLE
to you since yesterday morning, you see. Where
were you with that flash-light?”
"Tree.”
"Oh, that would be it. By Jove, Jenks, you 're
thorough. I'll say that for you. Nothing was too
much trouble, was it? And all to get rid of a husky
six-footer who had n't any nerve left but might have
been inconvenient to have around in a crisis !"
Jenks remained silent.
“And as soon as I was out of the way the gang of
you were going to take Campbell's ready money
and the jewelry of the ladies and skip. That was
what you were after. It would have been a big
haul."
For the first time, the face of Jenks changed.
“Nothin' like it,” he snarled.
"Oh, yes, Edward Edwards, alias Joe Stevens,
alias the Ourang outang, alias Joseph Jenks. You
were n't doing all this merely to get rid of a new-
comer you disliked. Did you imagine I did n't know
you?"
Jenks muttered a word that was inaudible. His
face had turned to a pasty gray.
"I know James, too—'Slim Jim'; and 'Codfish
Hart' and 'Sleepy Annie.' A nice bunch you are!
I looked you all up the day I was in New York, but
I could n't be sure till I got the finger-prints yester-


FOUR OF A KIND
339
day. I recognized your friend Rickett at the first
glance, by the way,” he interpolated. “The district
attorney of New York used to be a pal of mine, and
I saw him send Rickett up the river five years ago.
That's why I got rid of him so promptly. I know
about your operations in London houses, too. But,
though you 're so good on the servant end, you 're
not half so clever a gang of crooks as you 're re-
ported to be. By the way, how about the cook and
Violet?”
"They 're dead ones. They don't know anything
about us.”
"I thought so. Now why did n't you get off with
the stuff before I came—and while you had a
chance? You had been here almost a month.”
"We were waiting for the foreign dame's stuff.
We thought that leather bag was the ace, and at first
we could n't get hold of it.”
Jenks answered doggedly. He seemed stunned
by the turn of events.
"Are you a bull?” he asked suddenly.
"No. Just a plain citizen; but a fairly intelligent
one, Jenks, and your goings on here attracted my
attention. That reminds me," he asked suddenly.
"How about the leather case ? You finally had a
duplicate made. How did you arrange that?"
“Aw, can the questions.”


FOUR OF A KIND
341
things, sir," he said primly. "And we never injure
anybody physically. That is n't our method.
That's why we wanted to get rid of you quiet-like,
with no harm done. And now, sir, since you've
got the whole story, and since you got nothing on
us but a little joke, sir, I'm sure you 'll have no
objection to being a sport yourself and letting us
make a nice, quiet get-away. It won't do you any
good to put us in Sing Sing, sir."
"Perhaps not; but it would benefit the community
immensely,” Renshaw pointed out. "However,
that 's a mere detail at present. Let us continue
our conversation. When were you planning to
make your get-away with the money and jewels ?”
“The night you came-damn you,” said Jenks,
with sudden bitterness and forgetfulness of his
rôle.
"I'll pass over your profanity this time. I can
see how my inopportune arrival must have annoyed
you. So you postponed the coup till you could get
rid of me; and then Campbell was taken sick, and
with doctors coming and going, and Morris here at
night, you decided to wait a few days longer-”.
A new thought struck him. “What happened the
night Campbell was stricken?”
He had to do considerable prodding before the
question was answered.


FOUR OF A KIND
343
the precaution to "doctor” the first pistol before he
left it under his pillow. It would be a disappoint-
ing weapon to the person who took it.
As he noiselessly hurried along the dark lower
hall he heard a faint sound in the study. His grip
tightened on the revolver in the pocket of his smok-
ing-jacket. He took out the weapon as he noise-
lessly opened the study door.
James and Hart were in the room, in which one
electric light burned dimly under a shade. They
were kneeling, bent over something on the floor,
and the backs of both men were toward him. He
brought them upright with a word, their hands
above their heads, their eyes rolling in terrified in-
credulity. He moved slowly toward them, keeping
them covered, his eyes taking in the objects that
lay at the men's feet. Several bags were filled with
plunder, and scattered about the floor were bulky
articles of silver brought from the dining-room and
apparently rejected at the last moment. His inter-
ruption had been opportune. They were almost
ready to recall Jenks from his guard duty up-stairs
and depart.
"Turn your faces to the wall," he ordered.
“You, James, move six paces to the right. Hart,
I'll trouble you to take eight steps to the left.
Hurry up. That's right.” He relieved them of


344
THE BLUE CIRCLE
the revolvers each carried, and also took an un-
pleasant-looking knife from Hart.
"Greedy,” he rebukingly observed. "Where's
all the jewelry ?"
"In the leather bag.” It was Hart who spoke, ap-
parently realizing that the game was up.
"I 'll have to inconvenience you. Step into that
corner closet, Hart. Be quick!"
Hart made a movement of protest, then sullenly
obeyed. On the threshold he stopped, with hands
still high above his head, and turned his strange
eyes on the secretary.
“Wait a minute,” he said. "I got somethin' to
say."
"All right. Be quick.”
“Me sister Maggie's in the house. She ain't got
nothin' to do with this.” Hart's voice broke. “Be-
fore Gawd, I swear she ain't!" he hoarsely added.
“Give her a chancet, will you? Let her beat it.”
Renshaw's eyes were busy watching the two men.
“What's she doing?” he asked. “I thought she
had gone."
"Mrs. Pardee kep' her here.” Hart answered so
eagerly that he forgot his hands, but shot them up-
ward again in response to a sudden movement of
the revolver. “Mrs. Pardee said she was sick an'
lonesome, and no one was payin' her any 'tention.


FOUR OF A KIND
345
Maggie ain't got nothin' to do with this,” he added
fiercely. “Maggie's straight.” His voice broke
again. "She's straight, I tell you. You kin see it
when you look at her. An' she thinks I'm goin'
straight. She thinks I've ree-formed. Say—for
Gawd's sake, give her a chancet. Let her beat it
before the bulls come.”
"She can't. The house is watched. I've had
two men on guard since yesterday morning."
Hart groaned. “Gawd!” he said again, and
passed his tongue over his dry lips.
"But I'll see that she gets away, just the same !"
the secretary added.
“You will? Say, does that go?" For the first
time, Hart's dead eyes were alive and burning.
"That goes. All right, now. Hustle into the
closet.”
Hart obeyed without another word. Keeping
his eyes on James, Renshaw locked the closet door,
and put the key with the bath-room key in his
“But I'll sende over his dry linda!! again, and
pocket.
“Now, 'Slim Jim,'” he commanded briskly, "face
about and march into the hall. Really, this is al-
most too easy. I was n't sure I could pull it off
alone, but I wanted to try."
"Slim Jim” obeyed his orders with surprising
alacrity. His nerve, of which he had little at the



"We've got a woman to deal with”


FOUR OF A KIND
347
his head from the staircase above him. The force
of the blow would have floored him if it had fallen
straight. As it was, he staggered under a slanting
stroke that almost broke his right shoulder. In the
next moment he swung up over the stair-rail, and,
catching the wrists of the furious woman on the
stairs, held her firmly.
"Stupid of you, Annie,” he said. “What's the
good of trying to brain me with a kitchen stool?
You'd have landed in the electric chair for it. As
it is, you'll have to languish in a prison cell for
heaven only knows how long. Meantime, don't
hiss at me like that. It does n't look pretty, and it
does n't do me a bit of harm. I'm feeling too fit.
In fact, I don't know when I've felt so well or so
chatty,” he added peacefully. “Oh, no, no; keep
quiet. Of course I can't let go of your hands. I
like to hold them!”
"You better go and look after them women,"
muttered “Sleepy Annie.” “Hart chloroformed
'em-an' he ain't any too careful about such jobs.”
At the change in his face, she laughed. “I
thought you would n't feel so well after that. Here
—what y' doin'?"
He gagged her with his handkerchief, and tied
her arms behind her with a piece of cord. He felt
cold and sick. Hart in Verity's room! He told


FOUR OF A KIND
349
He felt physically ill as he did so, and a sudden lust
for the life of Hart filled him. Going in turn to the
four windows, he threw each wide open. Through
them poured the bracing tonic of the cold night air,
and with it came the welcome sound of an auto-
mobile driven at full speed and rushing up the
avenue toward the house.


352
THE BLUE CIRCLE
going back to my own identity to-morrow. I've
skulked long enough."
"Then”—Morris dared the question-"you feel
that you are all right-your own man again?”
"I know I am!"
The words were spoken quietly, but with entire
conviction. Morris nodded.
“I know it, too,” he conceded. “And Stanley
knew it before either of us. He knew you were
well when he sent you here. But, of course, he
was n't looking for the spectacular performance you
have pulled off!”
Renshaw laughed. “It won't surprise him-noth-
ing does. But he 'll he mighty glad I've found my-
self. He has been trying to hurry me. He got
a big job for me three months ago, and he won't
be content till I take it."
“You will take it now, of course."
“Of course. As soon as Mr. Campbell is well
and lets me off.”
Renshaw fidgeted a moment, then rose.
"You 're going to look in on Miss Campbell
again before you turn in, are n't you?”
“Yes."
"I'll go up with you and hear your final report."
He waited at the half-open door of Verity's room,
his heart pounding fiercely. He heard the doctor's


HIS OWN MAN
353
voice, that of the nurse, and then the most wonder-
ful voice in the world:
"Is Mr. Renshaw there? I want to see him for
a moment."
He went in and bent above her, the doctor and
nurse moving away to make room for him at the
bedside.
"All right now?” he asked gently.
“Yes, I–I think so. But-would it be too much
if I-asked you something?" Her voice was al-
most inaudible.
“Nothing in the world you could ask me would
be too much.”
"Then—then, will you, if you 're not too tired-
stay somewhere near?" Her voice broke. "I'm
afraid when you 're not near,” she admitted, with a
childish gulp.
He pressed the hand that lay on the coverlet.
It clung to his as it had clung in the black hole of
the closet.
"They 're all out of the house and on their way
to jail. Of course you know that. But I am
going to sit just outside your door the rest of the
night,” he added gently.
"Oh!" Her face grew luminous, then clouded.
"It's horribly selfish of me to let you. It's abom-
inable, really, when you 're so tired. But when you


HIS OWN MAN
355
The center of the vision was Verity. She was
everywhere he looked. She inclosed him like a
circular wall.
What he had always desired but had hardly dared
to hope for, what his mother and sister in their
final moments of life had prayed that he might have
to comfort him, had come to him at last. But he
had not "fallen in love." He seemed to feel the
unfurling of mighty wings, and he rose to love as a
lark mounts to the open sky.
His years of illness, of loneliness, of darkness,
were far behind him, far below him. He could
forget them now. Ahead of him once more lay
life and work, as well as the rapture of the promise
he had read in the eyes of the girl he loved.