THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS At the top of the stair, her height accented by her gown of white, stood Marian Devereux. Page 230 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDL By MEREDITH NICHOLSON Author of THE MAIN CHANCE ZELDA DAMERON, ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY * So on tie mom there fell new tidings and other adventures MALOKT NEW YORK A. WESSELS COMPANY 1907 LIBRARY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS Copyright 1905 THE BOBBS-MERRIIX COMTAHT NOVEMBER. PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. ^argaret tyv feteter CONTENTS PAOB I THE WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLBNABM 1 II A FACE AT SHERRY'S 22 III THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 37 IV A VOICE FROM THE LAKE 47 V A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 63 VI THE GIRL AND THE CANOB 80 VII THE MAN ON THE WALL 89 VIII A STRING OF GOLD BEADS 102 IX THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 112 X AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 129 XI I RECEIVE A CALLER 142 XII I EXPLORE A PASSAGE . 153 XIII A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 166 XIV THE GIRL IN GRAY 177 XV I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 191 XVI THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 200 XVII SISTER THERESA 213 XVIII GOLDEN BUTTERFLIES 225 XIX I MEET AN OLD FRIEND 239 XX A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 255 XXI PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 268 XXII THE RETURN OF MARIAN DBVEEEUX 278 XXIII THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 288 XXIV A PROWLER OF THE NIGHT 304 XXV BESIEGED 316 XXVI THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 329 XXVII CHANGES AND CHANCES 351 XXVIII SHORTER VISTAS 368 XXIX AND So THE LIGHT LED MB 370 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES CHAPTER I THE WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLENAEM Pickering's letter bringing news of my grandfather's death found me at Naples early in October. John Marshall Glenarm had died in June. He had left a will which gave me his property conditionally, Picker ing wrote, and it was necessary for me to return im mediately to qualify as legatee. It was the merest luck that the letter came to my hands at all, for it had been sent to Constantinople, in care of the consul-general instead of my banker there. It was not Pickering's fault that the consul was a friend of mine who kept 1 2 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES track of my wanderings and was able to hurry the executor'? letter after me to Italy, where I had gone to meet an English financier who had, I was advised, un limited money to spend on African railways. I am an engineer, a graduate of an American institution famil iarly known as "Tech," and as my funds were running low, I naturally turned to my profession for employment. But this letter changed my plans, and the following day I cabled Pickering of my departure and was out ward bound on a steamer for New York. Fourteen days later I sat in Pickering's office in the Alexis Build ing and listened intently while he read, with much ponderous emphasis, the provisions of my grandfather's will. When he concluded, I laughed. Pickering was a serious man, and I was glad to see that my levity pained him. I had, for that matter, always been a source of annoyance to him 2 and his look of distrust and rebuke did not trouble me in the least. I reached across the table for the paper, and he gave the sealed and beribboned copy of John Marshall Glen- arm's will into my hands. I read it through for myself, feeling conscious meanwhile that Pickering's cool gaze was bent inquiringly upon me. These are the para graphs that interested me most: I give and bequeath unto my said grandson, John Glen arm, sometime a resident of the City and State of New WILL OF JOHN MAESHALL GLENAEM 3 York, and later a vagabond of parts unknown, a certain property known as Glenarm House, with the land there unto pertaining and hereinafter more particularly de scribed, and all personal property of whatsoever kind thereunto belonging and attached thereto, the said realty lying in the County of Wabana in the State of Indiana, upon this condition, faithfully and honestly performed: That said John Glenarm shall remain for the period of one year an occupant of said Glenarm House and my lands attached thereto, demeaning himself meanwhile in an orderly and temperate manner. Should he fail at any time during said year to comply with this provision, said property shall revert to my general estate and become, without reservation, and without necessity for any process of law, the property, absolutely, of Marian Devereux, of the County and State of New York. "Well" he demanded, striking his hands upon the arms of his chair, "what do you think of it?" For the life of me I could not help laughing again. There was, in the first place, a delicious irony in the fact that I should learn through him of my grand father's wishes with respect to myself. Pickering and I had grown up in the same town in Vermont ; we had attended the same preparatory school, but there had been from boyhood a certain antagonism between us. He had always succeeded where I had failed, which is to say, I must admit, that he had succeeded pretty fre quently. When I refused to settle down to my profes sion, but chose to see something of the world first, 4 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES Pickering gave himself seriously to the law, and there was, I knew from the beginning, no manner of chance that he would fail. I am not more or less than human, and I remem bered with joy that once I had thrashed him soundly at the prep school for bullying a smaller boy; but our score from school-days was not without tallies on his side. He was easily the better scholar I grant him that; and he was shrewd and plausible. You never quite knew the extent of his powers and resources, and he had, I always maintained, the most amazing good luck, as witness the fact that John Marshall Glenarm had taken a friendly interest in him. It was wholly like my grandfather, who was a man of many whims, to give his affairs into Pickering's keeping ; and I could not complain, for I had missed my own chance with him. It was, I knew readily enough, part of my pun ishment for having succeeded so signally in incurring my grandfather's displeasure that he had made it nec essary for me to treat with Arthur Pickering in this matter of the will; and Pickering was enjoying the situation to the full. He sank back in his chair with an air of complacency that had always been insufferable in him. I was quite willing to be patronized by a man of years and experience; but Pickering was my own age, and his experience of life seemed to me prepos- WILL OF JOHN" MAESHALL GLENAKM 5 terously inadequate. To find him settled in New York, where he had been established through my grandfather's generosity, and the executor of my grandfather's estate, was hard to bear. But there was something not wholly honest in my mirth, for my conduct during the three preceding years had been reprehensible. I had used my grandfather shabbily. My parents died when I was a child, and he had cared for me as far back as my memory ran. He had suffered me to spend without restraint the fortune left by my father ; he had expected much of me, and I had grievously disappointed him. It was his hope that I should devote myself to architecture, a profession for which he had the greatest admiration, whereas I had insisted on engineering. I am not writing an apology for my life, and I shall not attempt to extenuate my conduct in going abroad at the end of my course at Tech and, when I made Laurance Donovan's acquaintance, in setting off with him on a career of adventure. I do not regret, though possibly it would be more to my credit if I did, the months spent leisurely following the Danube east of the Iron Gate Laurance Donovan always with me, while we urged the villagers and inn-loafers to all man ner of sedition, acquitting ourselves so well that, when we came out into the Black Sea for further pleasure, 6 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES Russia did us the honor to keep a spy at our heels. I should like, for my own satisfaction, at least, to set down an account of certain affairs in which we were concerned at Belgrad, but without Larry's consent 1 am not at liberty to do so. Nor shall I take time here to describe our travels in Africa, though our study of the Atlas Mountain dwarfs won us honorable mention by the British Ethnological Society. These were my yesterdays ; but to-day I sat in Arthur Pickering's office in the towering Alexis Building, con scious of the muffled roar of Broadway, discussing the terms of my Grandfather Glenarm'8 will with a man whom I disliked as heartily as it is safe for one man to dislike another. Pickering had asked me a question, and I was suddenly aware that his eyes were fixed upon me and that he awaited my answer. "What do I think of it?" I repeated. "I don't know that it makes any difference what I think, but I'll tell you, if you want to know, that I call it infamous, out rageous, that a man should leave a ridiculous will of that sort behind him. All the old money-bags who pile up fortunes magnify the importance of their money. They imagine that every kindness, every ordinary cour tesy shown them, is merely a bid for a slice of the cake. I'm disappointed in my grandfather. He was a splen did old man, though God knows he had his queer ways. WILL OF JOHN MAESHALL GLENABM 7 I'll bet a thousand dollars, if I have so much money in the world, that this scheme is yours, Pickering, and not his. It smacks of your ancient vindictiveness, and John Marshall Glenarm had none of that in his blood. That stipulation about my residence out there is fantastic. I don't have to be a lawyer to know that ; and no doubt I could break the will; I've a good notion to try it, anyhow." "To be sure. You can tie up the estate for half a dozen years if you like," he replied coolly. He did not look upon me as likely to become a formidable litigant. My staying qualities had been proved weak long ago, as Pickering knew well enough. "No doubt you would like that," I answered. "But I'm not going to give you the pleasure. I abide by the terms of the will. My grandfather was a fine old gen tleman. I shan't drag his name through the courts, not even to please you, Arthur Pickering," I declared hotly. YOICB FKOM THE LAKE 59, I closed it with a slam. "The sleeping-room is beyond, sir. I hope " "Don't you hope any more!" I growled; "and it doesn't make any difference whether I'm disappointed or not." "Certainly not, sir!" he replied in a tone that made me ashamed of myself. The adjoining bedroom was small and meagerly fur nished. The walls were untinted and were relieved only by prints of English cathedrals, French chateaux, and like suggestions of the best things known to archi tecture. The bed was the commonest iron type ; and the other articles of furniture were chosen with a strict re gard for utility. My trunks and bags had been carried in, and Bates asked from the door for my commands. "Mr. Glenarm always breakfasted at seven-thirty, sir, as near as he could hit it without a timepiece, and he was quite punctual. His ways were a little odd, sir. He used to prowl about at night a good deal, and there was 'iio following him." "I fancy I shan't do much prowling," I declared. "And my grandfather's breakfast hour will suit me ex- >actly, Bates." "If there's nothing further, sir * ''That's all; and Bates * 60 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "Yes, Mr. Glenarm." "Of course you understand that I didn't really mean to imply that you had fired that shot at me?" "I beg you not to mention it, Mr. Glenarm." "But it was a little queer. If you should gain any light on the subject, let me know." "Certainly, sir." "But I believe, Bates, that we'd better keep the shades down at night. These duck hunters hereabouts are ap parently reckless. And you might attend to these now, and every evening hereafter." I wound my watch as he obeyed. I admit that in my heart I still half -suspected the fellow of complicity with the person who had fired at me through the dining-room window. It was rather odd, I reflected, that the shades should have been open, though I might account for this by the fact that this curious unfinished establishment was not subject to the usual laws governing orderly housekeeping. Bates was evidently aware of my sus picions, and he remarked, drawing down the last of the plain green shades : "Mr. Glenarm never drew them, sir. It was a saying of his, if I may repeat his words, that he liked the open. These are eastern windows, and he took a quiet pleasure in letting the light waken him. It was one of his odd ities, sir." A VOICE FEOM THE LAKE 61 "To be sure. That's all, Bates/' He gravely bade me good night, and I followed him to the outer door and watched his departing figure, lighted by a single candle that he had produced from his pocket. I stood for several minutes listening to his step, trac ing it through the hall below as far as my knowledge of the house would permit. Then, in unknown regions, I could hear the closing of doors and drawing of bolts. Verily, my jailer was a person of painstaking habits. I opened my traveling-case and distributed its con tents on the dressing-table. I had carried through all my adventures a folding leather photograph-holder, con taining portraits of my father and mother and of John Marshall Glenarm, my grandfather, and this I set up on the mantel in the little sitting-room. I felt to-night as never before how alone I was in the world, and a need for companionship and sympathy stirred in me. It was with a new and curious interest that I peered into my grandfather's shrewd old eyes. He used to come and go fitfully at my father's house ; but my father had displeased him in various ways that I need not recite, and my father's death had left me with an estrangement which I had widened by my own acts. Now that I had reached Glenarm, my mind reverted lo Pickering's estimate of the value of my grandfather's 62 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES estate. Although John Marshall Glenarm was an ec centric man, he had been able to accumulate a large for tune ; and yet I had allowed the executor to tell me that he had died comparatively poor. In so readily accepting the terms of the will and burying myself in a region of which I knew nothing, I had cut myself off from the usual channels of counsel. If I left the place to return to New York I should simply disinherit myself. At Glenarm I was, and there I must remain to the end of the year; I grew bitter against Pickering as I reflected upon the ease with which he had got rid of me. I had always satisfied myself that my wits were as keen as his, but I wondered now whether I had not stupidly put my self in his power. CHAPTEK Y A RED TAM-O'-SHANTEB I looked out on the bright October morning with a renewed sense of isolation. Trees crowded about my windows, many of them still wearing their festal colors, scarlet and brown and gold, with the bright green of some sulking companion standing out here and there with startling vividness. I put on an old corduroy out ing suit and heavy shoes, ready for a tramp abroad, and went below. The great library seemed larger than ever when I be held it in the morning light. I opened one of the French windows and stepped out on a stone terrace, where I gained a fair view of the exterior of the house, which proved to be a modified Tudor, with battlements and two towers. One of the latter was only half -finished, and to it and to other parts of the house the workmen's scaffolding still clung. Heaps of stone and piles of lum ber were scattered about in great disorder. The house extended partly along the edge of a ravine, through which a slender creek ran toward the lake. The terrace became a broad balcony immediately outside the library, 63 64 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES and beneath, it the water bubbled pleasantly around heavy stone pillars. Two pretty rustic bridges spanned the ravine, one near the front entrance, the other at the rear. My grandfather had begun his house on a generous plan, but, buried as it was among the trees, it suffered from lack of perspective. However, on one side toward the lake was a fair meadow, broken by a water-tower, and just beyond the west dividing wall I saw a little chapel ; and still farther, in the same direction, the out lines of the buildings of St. Agatha's were vaguely per ceptible in another strip of woodland. The thought of gentle nuns and school-girls as neigh bors amused me. All I asked was that they should keep Bo their own side of the wall. I heard behind me the careful step of Bates. "Good morning, Mr. Glenarm. I trust you rested quite well, sir." His figure was as austere, his tone as respectful and colorless as by night. The morning light gave him a pallid cast. He suffered my examination coolly enough ; his eyes were, indeed, the best thing about him. "This is what Mr. Glenarm called the platform. I believe it's in Hamlet, sir." I laughed aloud. "Elsinore: A Platform Before the Castle." A EED TAM-O'-SHANTEK 65 "It was one of Mr. Glenarm's little fancies, you might call it, sir." "And the ghost, where does the murdered majesty of Denmark lie by day?" "I fear it wasn't provided, sir ! As you see, Mr. Glen- arm, the house is quite incomplete. My late master had not carried out all his plans." Bates did not smile. I fancied he never smiled, and I wondered whether John Marshall Glenarm had played upon the man's lack of humor. My grandfather had been possessed of a certain grim, ironical gift at jesting, and quite likely he had amused himself by experiment ing upon his serving man. "You may breakfast when you like, sir," and thus admonished I went into the refectory. A newspaper lay at my plate; it was the morning's issue of a Chicago daily. I was, then, not wholly out of the world, I reflected, scanning the head-lines. "Your grandfather rarely examined the paper. Mr. Glenarm was more particularly interested in the old times. He wasn't what you might call up to date, if you will pardon the expression, sir." "You are quite right about that, Bates. He was a medievalist in his sympathies." "Thank you for that word, sir ; I've frequently heard 66 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES him apply it to himself. The plain omelette was a great favorite with your grandfather. I hope it is to your lik ing, sir." "It's excellent, Bates. And your coffee is beyond praise." "Thank you, Mr. Glenarm. One does what one can, sir." He had placed me so that I faced the windows, an attention to my comfort and safety which I appreciated. The broken pane told the tale of the shot that had so narrowly missed me the night before. "I'll repair that to-day, sir," Bates remarked, seeing my eyes upon the window. "You know that I'm to spend a year on this place; I assume that you understand the circumstances," I said, feeling it wise that we should understand each other. "Quite so, Mr. Glenarm." "I'm a student, you know, and all I want is to be left alone." This I threw in to reassure myself rather than for his information. It was just as well, I reflected, to as sert a little authority, even though the fellow undoubt edly represented Pickering and received orders from "In a day or two, or as soon as I have got used to the A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 67 place, I shall settle down to work in the library. You may give me breakfast at seven-thirty ; luncheon at one- thirty and dinner at seven." "Those were my late master's hours, sir/' "Very good. And I'll eat anything you please, ex cept mutton broth, meat pie and canned strawberries. Strawberries in tins, Bates, are not well calculated to lift the spirit of man." "I quite agree with you, sir, if you will pardon my opinion." "And the bills" "They are provided for by Mr. Pickering. He sends me an allowance for the household expenses." "So you are to report to him, are you, as heretofore ?" I blew out a match with which I had lighted a cigar and watched the smoking end intently. "I believe that's the idea, sir." It is not pleasant to be under compulsion, to feel your freedom curtailed, to be conscious of espionage. I rose without a word and went into the hall. "You may like to have the keys," said Bates, follow ing me. "There's two for the gates in the outer wall and one for the St. Agatha's gate; they're marked, as you see. And here's the hall-door key and the boat- house key that you asked for last night." After an hour spent in unpacking I went out into the 68 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES grounds. I had thought it well to wire Pickering of my arrival, and I set out for Annandale to send him a telegram. My spirit lightened under the influences of the crisp air and cheering sunshine. What had seemed strange and shadowy at night was clear enough by day. I found the gate through which we had entered the grounds the night before without difficulty. The stone wall was assuredly no flimsy thing. It was built in a thoroughly workmanlike manner, and I mentally com puted its probable cost with amazement. There were, I reflected, much more satisfactory ways of spending money than in building walls around Indiana forests. But the place was mine, or as good as mine, and there was no manner of use in quarreling with the whims of my dead grandfather. At the expiration of a year I could tear down the wall if I pleased ; and as to the in complete house, that I should sell or remodel to my liking. On the whole, I settled into an amiable state of mind ; my perplexity over the shot of the night before was pass ing away under the benign influences of blue sky and warm sunshine. A few farm-folk passed me in the highway and gave me good morning in the fashion of the country, inspecting my knickerbockers at the same A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 69 time with frank disapproval. I reached the lake and gazed out upon its quiet waters with satisfaction. At the foot of Annandale's main street was a dock where several small steam-craft and a number of catboats were being dismantled for the winter. As I passed, a man approached the dock in a skiff, landed and tied his boat. He started toward the village at a quick pace, but turned and eyed me with rustic directness. "Good morning !" I said. "Any ducks about ?" He paused, nodded and fell into step with me. "No, not enough to pay for the trouble/ 5 "Fm sorry for 'that. Fd hoped to pick up a few." "I guess you're a stranger in these parts/' he re marked, eying me again, my knickerbockers no doubt marking me as an alien. "Quite so. My name is Glenarm, and Fve just come." "I thought you might be him. We've rather been ex pecting you here in the village. Fm John Morgan, care taker of the resorters' houses up the lake." "I suppose you all knew my grandfather hereabouts." "Well, yes; you might say as we did, or you might say as we didn't. He wasn't just the sort -that you got next to in a hurry. He kept pretty much to himself, He built a wall there to keep us out, but he needn't have troubled himself. We're not the kind around here to 70 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES meddle, and you may be sure the summer people never bothered him/' - There was a tone of resentment in his voice, and I hastened to say: "I'm sure you're mistaken about the purposes of that wall. My grandfather was a student of architecture. It was a hobby of his. The house and wall were in the line of his experiments, and to please his whims. I hope the people of the village won't hold any hard feelings against his memory or against me. Why, the labor there must have been a good thing for the people hereabouts." "It ought to have been," said the man gruffly; "but that's where the trouble comes in. He brought a lot of queer fellows here under contract to work for him, Italians, or Greeks, or some sort of foreigners. They built the wall, and he had them at work inside for half a year. He didn't even let them out for air; and when they finished his job he loaded 'em on to a train one day and hauled 'em away." "That was quite like him, I'm sure," I said, remem bering with amusement my grandfather's secretive ways. "I guess he was a crank all right," said the man con clusively. It was evident that he did not care to establish friend ly relations with the resident of Glenarm. He was about A EED TAM-O'-SHANTER 71 forty, light, with a yellow beard and pale blue eyes. He was dressed roughly and wore a shabby soft hat. "Well, I suppose Fll have to assume responsibility for him and his acts," I remarked, piqued by the fel low's surliness. We had reached the center of the village, and he left me abruptly, crossing the street to one of the shops. I continued on to the railway station, where I wrote and paid for my message. The station-master inspected me carefully as I searched my pockets for change. "You want your telegrams delivered at the house?" he asked. "Yes, please," I answered, and he turned away to his desk of clicking instruments without looking at me again. It seemed wise to establish relations with the post- office, so I made myself known to the girl who stood at the delivery window. "You already have a box," she advised me. "There's a boy carries the mail to your house; Mr. Bates hires him." Bates had himself given me this information, but the girl seemed to find pleasure in imparting it with a cer tain severity. I then bought a cake of soap at the prin cipal drug store and purchased a package of smoking- tobacco, which I did not need, at a grocery 72 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES News of my arrival had evidently reached the vil lagers ; I was conceited enough to imagine that my pres ence was probably of interest to them; but the station- master, the girl at the post-office and the clerks in the shops treated me with an -unmistakable cold reserve. There was a certain evenness of the chill which they visited upon me, as though a particular degree of frigid ity had been determined in advance. I shrugged my shoulders and turned toward Glen- arm. My grandfather had left me a cheerful legacy of distrust among my neighbors, the result, probably, of importing foreign labor to work on his house. The surly Morgan had intimated as much; but it did not greatly matter. I had not come to Glenarm to cultivate the rustics, but to fulfil certain obligations laid down in my grandfather's will. I was, so to speak, on duty, and I much preferred that the villagers should let me alone. Comforting myself with these reflections I reached the wharf, where I saw Morgan sitting with his feet dan gling over the water, smoking a pipe. I nodded in his direction, but he feigned not to see me. A moment later he jumped into his boat and rowed out into the lake. When I returned to the house Bates was at work in the kitchen. This was a large square room with heavy timbers showing in the walls and low ceiling. There A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 73 was a great fireplace having an enormous chimney and fitted with a crane and bobs, but for practical purposes a small range was provided. Bates received me placidly. "Yes; it's an unusual kitchen, sir. Mr. Glenarm copied it from an old kitchen in England. He took quite a pride in it. It's a pleasant place to sit in the evening, sir." He showed me the way below, where I found that the cellar extended under every part of the house, and was divided into large chambers. The door of one of them was of heavy oak, bound in iron, with a barred opening at the top. A great iron hasp with a heavy padlock and grilled area windows gave further the impression of a cell, and I fear that at this, as at many other things in the curious house, I swore if I did not laugh think ing of the money my grandfather had expended in real izing his whims. The room was used, I noted with pleas ure, as a depository for potatoes. I asked Bates whether he knew my grandfather's purpose in providing a cell in his house. "That, sir, was another of the dead master's ideas. He remarked to me once that it was just as well to have a dungeon in a well-appointed house, his humor again, sir ! And it comes in quite handy for the potatoes." In another room I found a curious collection of Ian- 74 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES terns of every conceivable description, grouped on shelves, and next door to this was a store-room filled with brass candlesticks of many odd designs. I shall not undertake to describe my sensations as, peering about with a candle in my hand, the vagaries of John Marshall Glenarm's mind were further disclosed to me. It was almost beyond belief that any man with such whims should ever have had the money to gratify them. I returned to the main floor and studied the titles of the books in the library, finally smoking a pipe over a very tedious chapter in an exceedingly dull work on Norman Revivals and Influences. Then I went out, as suring myself that I should get steadily io work in a day or two. It was not yet eleven o'clock, and time was sure to move deliberately within the stone walls of my prison. The long winter lay before me in which I must study perforce, and just now it was pleasant to view the landscape in all its autumn splendor. Bates was soberly chopping wood at a rough pile of timber at the rear of the house. His industry had al ready impressed me. He had the quiet ways of an ideal serving man. "Well, Bates, you don't intend to let me freeze to death, do you ? There must be enough in the pile there to last all winter." "Yes, sir; I am just cutting a little more of the hick- A EED TAM-O'-SHANTER 75 ory, sir, Mr. Glenarm always preferred it to beech or maple. We only take out the old timber. The summer storms eat into the wood pretty bad, sir." "Oh, hickory, to be sure ! I've heard it's the best fire wood. That's very thoughtful of you." I turned next to the unfinished tower in the meadow, from which a windmill pumped water to the house. The iron frame was not wholly covered with stone, but ma terial for the remainder of the work lay scattered at the base. I went on through the wood to the lake and in spected the boat-house. It was far more pretentious than I had imagined from my visit in the dark. It was of two stories, the upper half being a cozy lounging- room, with wide windows and a fine outlook over the water. The unplastered walls were hung with Indian blankets; lounging-chairs and a broad seat under the windows, colored matting on the floor and a few prints pinned upon the Navajoes gave further color to the place. I followed the pebbly shore to the stone wall where it marked the line of the school-grounds. The wall, I observed, was of the same solid character here as along the road. I tramped beside it, reflecting that my grand father's estate, in the heart of the Eepublic, would some day give the lie to foreign complaints that we have no ruins in America. 76 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I had assumed that there was no opening in the wall, but half-way to the road I found an iron gate, fastened with chain and padlock, by means of which I climbed to the top. The pillars at either side of the gate were of huge dimensions and were higher than I could reach. An intelligent forester had cleared the wood in the school-grounds, which were of the same general char acter as the Glenarm estate. The little Gothic church near at hand was built of stone similar to that used in Glenarm House. As I surveyed the scene a number of young women came from one of the school-buildings and, forming in twos and fours, walked back and forth in a rough path that led to the chapel.^ A Sister clad in a brown habit lingered near or walked first with one and then another of the students. It was all very pretty and interesting and not at all the ugly school for paupers I had expected to find. The students were not the charity children I had carelessly pictured; they were not so young, for one thing, and they seemed to be appareled decently enough. I smiled to find myself adjusting my scarf and straightening my collar as I beheld my neighbors for the first time. As I sat thus on the wall I heard the sound of angry voices back of me on the Glenarm side, and a crash of underbrush marked a flight and pursuit. I crouched A EED TAM-O'-SHANTER 77 down on the wall and waited. In a moment a man plunged through the wood and stumbled over a low- hanging vine and fell, not ten yards from where I lay. To my great surprise it was Morgan, my acquaintance of the morning. He rose, cursed his ill luck and, hug ging the wall close, ran toward the lake. Instantly the pursuer broke into view. It was Bates, evidently much excited and with an ugly cut across his forehead. He carried a heavy club, and, after listening for a moment for sounds of the enemy, he hurried after the caretaker. It was not my row, though I must say it quickened my curiosity. I straightened myself out, threw my legs over the school side of the wall and lighted a cigar, feeling cheered by the opportunity the stone barricade offered for observing the world. As I looked off toward the little church I found two other actors appearing on the scene. A girl stood in a little opening of the wood, talking to a man. Her hands were thrust into the pockets of her covert coat ; she wore a red tam-o'-shanter, that made a bright bit of color in the wood. They were not more than twenty feet away, but a wild growth of young maples lay between us, screening the wall. Their profiles were toward me, and the tones of the girl's voice reached me clearly, as she addressed her companion. He wore a clergyman's high waistcoat, and I assumed that he was the chaplain whom 78 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES Bates had mentioned. I am not by nature an eaves dropper, but the girl was clearly making a plea of some kind, and the chaplain's stalwart figure awoke in me an antagonism that held me to the wall. "If he comes here I shall go away, so you may as well understand it and tell him. I shan't see him under any circumstances, and I'm not going to Florida or Cali fornia or anywhere else in a private car, no matter who chaperones it." "Certainly not, unless you want to certainly not," said the chaplain. "You understand that I'm only giv ing you his message. He thought it best " "Not to write to me or to Sister Theresa!" inter rupted the girl contemptuously. "What a clever man he is!" "And how unclever I am !" said the clergman, laugh ing. "Well, I thank you for giving me the opportrnity to present his message." She smiled, nodded and turned swiftly towaro! the school. The chaplain looked after her for a few mo ments, then walked away soberly toward the lake. He was a young fellow, clean-shaven and dark, and w?th a pair of shoulders that gave me a twinge of envy. I cauld not guess how great a factor that vigorous figure was to be in my own affairs. As I swung down from the wall and walked toward Glenarm House, my thoughts were A BED TAM-O'-SHANTEK 79 not with the athletic chaplain, but with the girl, whose youth was, I reflected, marked by her short skirt, the un concern with which her hands were thrust into the pockets of her coat, and the irresponsible tilt of the tam- o'-shanter. There is something jaunty, a suggestion of spirit and independence in a tam-o'-shanter, particularly a red one. If the red tam-o'-shanter expressed, so to speak, the key-note of St. Agatha's, the proximity of the school was not so bad a thing after all. In high good-humor and with a sharp appetite I went in to luncheon. CHAPTEE VI THE GIRL AND THE CANOB "The persimmons are off the place, sir. Mr. Glenarm was very fond of the fruit." I had never seen a persimmon before, but I was in a mood for experiment. The frost-broken rind was cer tainly forbidding, but the rich pulp brought a surprise of joy to my palate. Bates watched me with respectful satisfaction. His gravity was in no degree diminished by the presence of 'a neat strip of flesh-colored court- plaster over his right eye. A faint suggestion of arnica hung in the air. "This is a quiet life/' I remarked, wishing to give him an opportunity to explain his encounter of the morning. "You are quite right, sir. As your grandfather used to say, it's a place of peace." "When nobody shoots at you through a window," Ii suggested. "Such a thing is likely to happen to any gentleman," he replied, "but not likely to happen more than once, if you'll allow the philosophy." 80 THE GIEL AND THE CANOE 81 He did not refer to his encounter with the caretaker, and I resolved to keep my knowledge of it to myself. I always prefer to let a rascal hang himself, and here was a case, I reasoned, where, if Bates were disloyal to the duties Pickering had imposed upon him, the fact of his perfidy was bound to disclose itself eventually. Glanc ing around at him when he was off guard? I surprised a look of utter dejection upon his face as he stood with folded arms behind my chair. * He flushed and started, then put his hand to his fore head, "I met with a slight accident this morning, sir. The hickory's very tough, sir. A piece of wood flew up and struck me." "Too bad!" I said with sympathy. "You'd better rest a bit this afternoon." "Thank you, sir; but it's a small matter, only, you might think it a trifle disfiguring." He struck a match for my cigarette, and I left with out looking at him again. But as I crossed the thresh old of the library I formulated this note: "Bates is a liar, for one thing, and a person with active enemies for another ; watch him/' All things considered, the day was passing well enough. I picked up a book, and threw myself on a com fortable divan to smoke and reflect before continuing my 82 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES explorations. As I lay there, Bates brought me a tele gram, a reply to my message to Pickering. It read : "Yours announcing arrival received and filed/' It was certainly a queer business, my errand to Glen- arm. I lay for a couple of hours dreaming, and counted the candles in the great crystal chandelier until my eyes ached. Then I rose, took my cap, and was soon tramping off toward the lake. There were several small boats and a naphtha launch in the boat-house. I dropped a canoe into the water and paddled off toward the summer colony, whose gables and chimneys were plainly visible from the Glenarm shore. I landed and roamed idly over leaf -strewn walks past nearly a hundred cottages, to whose windows and veran das the winter blinds gave a dreary and inhospitable air. There was, at one point, a casino, whose broad ve randa hung over the edge of the lake, while beneath, on the water-side, was a boat-house. I had from this point a fine view of the lake, and I took advantage of it to fix in my mind the topography of the region. I could see the bold outlines of Glenarm House and its red-tile roofs; and the gray tower of the little chapel beyond the wall rose above the wood with a placid dignity. Above the trees everywhere hung the shadowy smoke of autumn. I walked back to the wharf, where I Had left my THE GIEL AND THE CANOE 83 canoe, and was about to step into it when I saw, rock ing at a similar landing-place near-by, another slight craft of the same type as my own, but painted dark maroon. I was sure the canoe had not been there when I landed. Possibly it belonged to Morgan, the care taker. I walked over and examined it. I even lifted it slightly in the water to test its weight. The paddle lay on the dock beside me and it, too, I weighed critically, deciding that it was a trifle light for my own taste. "Please if you don't mind " I turned to stand face to face with the girl in the red tam-o'-shanter. "I beg your pardon," I said, stepping away from the canoe. She did not wear the covert coat of the morning, but a red knit jacket, buttoned tight about her. She was young with every emphasis of youth. A pair of dark blue eyes examined me with good-humored curiosity. She was on good terms with the sun I rejoiced in the brown of her cheeks, so eloquent of companionship with the outdoor world a certificate indeed of the favor of Heaven. Show me, in October, a girl with a face of tan, whose hands have plied a paddle or driven a golf- ball or cast a fly beneath the blue arches of summer, and I will suffer her scorn in joy. She may vote me dull and refute my wisest word with laughter, for hers 84 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES are the privileges of the sisterhood of Diana ; and that soft bronze, those daring fugitive freckles beneath her eyes, link her to times when Pan whistled upon his reed and all the days were long. She had approached silently and was enjoying, I felt sure, my discomfiture at being taken unawares. I had snatched off my cap and stood waiting beside the canoe, feeling, I must admit, a trifle guilty at being caught in the unwarrantable inspection of another per son's property particularly a person so wholly pleasing to the eye. "Keally, if you don't need that paddle any more " I looked down and found to my annoyance that I held it in my hand, was in fact leaning upon it with a cool air of proprietorship. "Again, I beg your pardon," I said. "I hadn't ex pected" She eyed me calmly with the stare of the child that arrives at a drawing-room door by mistake and scruti nizes the guests without awe. I didn't know what I had expected or had not expected, and she manifested no intention of helping me to explain. Her short skirt suggested fifteen or sixteen not more and such being the case there was no reason why I should not be mas ter of the situation. As I fumbled my pipe the hot coals THE GIEL AND THE CANOE 85 of tobacco burned my hand and I cast the thing from me. She laughed a little and watched the pipe bound from the dock into the water. "Too bad!" she said, her eyes upon it; "but if you hurry you may get it before it floats away." "Thank you for the suggestion," I said. But I did not relish the idea of kneeling on the dock to fish for a pipe before a strange school-girl who was, I felt sure, anxious to laugh at me. She took a step toward the line by which her boat was fastened. "Allow me." "If you think you can, safely," she said; and the laughter that lurked in her eyes annoyed me. "The feminine knot is designed for the confusion of man," I observed, twitching vainly at the rope, which was tied securely in unfamiliar loops. She was singularly unresponsive. The thought that she was probably laughing at my clumsiness did not make my fingers more nimble. "The nautical instructor at St. Agatha's is undoubt edly a woman. This knot must come in the post-grad uate course. But my gallantry is equal, I trust, to your patience." 86 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES The maid in the red tam-o'-shanter continued silent. The wet rope was obdurate, the knot more and more hopeless, and my efforts to make light of the situation awakened no response in the girl. I tugged away at the rope, attacking its tangle on various theories. "A case for surgery, I'm afraid. A truly Gordian knot, but I haven't my knife." "Oh, but you wouldn't!" she exclaimed. "I think I can manage." She bent down I was aware that the sleeve of her jacket brushed my shoulder seized an end that I had ignored, gave it a sharp tug with a slim brown hand and pulled the knot free. "There !" she exclaimed with a little laugh ; "I might have saved you all the bother." "How dull of me ! But I didn't have the combination," I said, steadying the canoe carefully to mitigate the ignominy of my failure. She scorned the hand I extended, but embarked with light confident step and took the paddle. It was grow ing late. The shadows in the wood were deepening; a chill crept over the water, and, beyond the tower of the chapel, the sky was bright with the splendor of sunset. With a few skilful strokes she brought her little craft beside my pipe, picked it up and tossed it to the wharf. THE GIEL AND THE CANOE 87 "Perhaps you can pipe a tune upon it," she said, dip ping the paddle tentatively. "You put me under great obligations/' I declared. " Are all the girls at St. Agatha's as amiable ?" "I should say not ! I'm a great exception, and I really shouldn't be talking to you at all! It's against the rules ! And we don't encourage smoking." "The chaplain doesn't smoke, I suppose." "Not in chapel; I believe it isn't done! And we rarely see him elsewhere." She had idled with the paddle so far, but now lifted her eyes and drew back the blade for a long stroke. "But in the wood this morning by the wall !" I hate myself to this day for having so startled her. The poised blade dropped into the water with a splash; she brought the canoe a trifle nearer to the wharf with an almost imperceptible stroke, and turned toward me with wonder and dismay in her eyes. "So you are an eavesdropper and detective, are you? I beg that you will give your master my compliments ! I really owe you an apology ; I thought you were a gen tleman!" she exclaimed with withering emphasis, and dipped her blade deep in flight. I called, stammering incoherently, after her, but her light argosy skimmed the water steadily. The paddle 88 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES rose and fell with trained precision, making scarcely a ripple as she stole softly away toward the fairy towers of the sunset. I stood looking after her, goaded with self -contempt. A glory of yellow and red filled the west. Suddenly the wind moaned in the wood behind the line of cottages, swept over me and rippled the surface of the lake. I watched its flight until it caught her canoe and I marked the flimsy craft's quick response, as the shaken waters bore her alert figure upward on the swell, her blade still maintaining its regular dip, until she disap peared behind a little peninsula that made a harbor near the school grounds. The red tam-o'-shanter seemed at last to merge in the red sky, and I turned to my canoe and paddled cheer lessly home. CHAPTER VII THE MAN ON THE WALL I was so thoroughly angry with myself that after idling along the shores for an hour I lost my way in the dark wood when I landed and brought, up at the rear door used by Bates for communication with the vil lagers who supplied us with provender. I readily found my way to the kitchen and to a flight of stairs beyond, which connected the first and second floors. The house was dark, and my good spirits were not increased as I stumbled up the unfamiliar way in the dark, with, I fear, a malediction upon my grandfather, who had built and left incomplete a house so utterly preposterous. My unpardonable fling at the girl still rankled; and I was cold from the quick descent of the night chill on the water and anxious to get into more comfortable clothes. Once on the second floor I felt that I knew the way to my room, and I was feeling my way toward it over the rough floor when I heard low voices rising apparently from my sitting-room. It was pitch dark in the hall. I stopped short and listened. The door of my room was open and a faint 90 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES light flashed once into the hall and disappeared. I heard now a sound as of a hammer tapping upon wood-work. Then it ceased, and a voice whispered : "He'll kill me if he finds me here. I'll try again to morrow. I swear to God I'll help you, but no more now " Then the sound of a scuffle and again the tapping of the hammer. After several minutes more of this there was a whispered dialogue which I could not hear. Whatever was occurring, two or three points struck me on the instant. One of the conspirators was an un willing party to an act as yet unknown; second, they had been unsuccessful and must wait for another op portunity ; and third, the business, whatever it was, was clearly of some importance to myself, as my own apart ments in my grandfather's strange house had been chosen for the investigation. Clearly, I was not prepared to close the incident, but the idea of frightening my visitors appealed to my sense of humor. I tiptoed to the front stairway, ran lightly down, found the front door, and, from the inside, opened and slammed it. I heard instantly a hurried scamper above, and the heavy fall of one who had stum bled in the dark. I grinned with real pleasure at the sound of this mishap, hurried into the great library, which was as dark as a well, and, opening one of the long THE MAN ON THE WALL 91 windows, stepped out on the balcony. At once from the rear of the house came the sound of a stealthy step, which increased to a run at the ravine bridge. I listened to the flight of the fugitive through the wood until the sounds died away toward the lake. Then, turning to the library windows, I saw Bates, with a candle held above his head, peering about. "Hello, Bates/' I called cheerfully. "I just got home and stepped out to see if the moon had risen. I don't believe I know where to look for it in this country." He began lighting the tapers with his usual deliber ation. "It's a trifle early, I think, sir. About seven o'clock, I should say, was the hour, Mr. Glenarm." There was, of course, no doubt whatever that Bates had been one of the men I heard in my room. It was wholly possible that he had been compelled to assist in some lawless act against his will; but why, if he had been forced into aiding a criminal, should he not invoke my own aid to protect himself ? I kicked the logs in the fireplace impatiently in my uncertainty. The man slow ly lighted the many candles in the great apartment. He was certainly a deep one, and his case grew more puzzling as I studied it in relation to the rifle-shot of the night before, his collision with Morgan in the wood, which I had witnessed; and now the house itself had 92 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES been invaded by some one with his connivance. The shot through the refectory window might have been in nocent enough; but these other matters in connection with it could hardly be brushed aside. Bates lighted me to the stairway, and said as I passed him: "There's a baked ham for dinner. I should call it ex tra delicate, Mr. Glenarm. I suppose there's no change in the dinner hour, sir ?" "Certainly not," I said with asperity; for I am not a person to inaugurate a dinner hour one day and change it the next. Bates wished to make conversation, the sure sign of a guilty conscience in a servant, and I was not disposed to encourage him. I closed the doors carefully and began a thorough examination of both the sitting-room and the little bed chamber. I was quite sure that my own effects could not have attracted the two men who had taken ad vantage of my absence to visit my quarters. Bates had helped unpack my trunk and undoubtedly knew every item of my simple wardrobe. I threw open the doors of the three closets in the rooms and found them all in the good order established by Bates. He had carried my trunks and bags to a store-room, so that everything I owned must have passed under his eye. My money even, the remnant of my fortune that I had drawn from the THE MAN" ON THE WALL 93 New York bank, I had placed carelessly enough in the drawer of a chiffonnier otherwise piled with collars. It took hut a moment to satisfy myself that this had not been touched. And, to be sure, a hammer was not neces sary to open a drawer that had, from its appearance, never been locked. The game was deeper than I had imagined ; I had scratched the crust without result, and my wits were busy with speculations as I changed my clothes, pausing frequently to examine the furniture, even the bricks on the hearth. One thing only I found the slight scar of a hammer head on the oak paneling that ran around the bedroom. The wood had been struck near the base and at the top of every panel, for though the mark was not perceptible on all, a test had evidently been made systematically. With this as a beginning, I found a moment later a spot of tallow under a heavy table in one corner. Evidently the furniture had been moved to permit of the closest scrutiny of the paneling. Even behind the bed I found the same impress of the hammer-head ; the test had un doubtedly been thorough, for a pretty smart tap on oak is necessary to leave an impression. My visitors had undoubtedly been making soundings in search of a re cess of some kind in the wall, and as they had failed of their purpose they were likely, I assumed, to pursue their researches further 94 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I pondered these things with a thoroughly-awakened interest in life. Glenarm House really promised to prove exciting. I took from a drawer a small revolver, filled its chambers with cartridges and thrust it into my hip pocket, whistling meanwhile Larry Donovan's favorite air, the Marche Funebre d'une Marionnette. My heart went out to Larry as I scented adventure, and I wished him with me ; but speculations as to Larry's whereabouts were always profitless, and quite likely he was in jail somewhere. The ham of whose excellence Bates had hinted was no disappointment. There is, I have always held, nothing better in this world than a baked ham, and the specimen Bates placed before me was a delight to the eye, so adorned was it with spices, so crisply brown its outer coat; and a taste that first tentative taste, before the sauce was added was like a dream of Lucullus come true. I could forgive a good deal in a cook with that touch, anything short of arson and assassination! "Bates," I said, as he stood forth where I could see him, "you cook amazingly well. Where did you learn the business ?" "Your grandfather grew very captious, Mr. Glenarm. I had to learn to satisfy him, and I believe I did it, sir, if you'll pardon the conceit." THE MAN ON THE WALL 95 "He didn't die of gout, did he? I can readily im agine it/' "No, Mr. Glenarm. It was his heart. He had his warning of it." "Ah, yes ; to be sure. The heart or the stomach, one may as well fail as the other. I believe I prefer to keep my digestion going as long as possible. Those grilled sweet potatoes again, if you please, Bates." The game that he and I were playing appealed to me strongly. It was altogether worth while, and as I ate guava jelly with cheese and toasted crackers, and then lighted one of my own cigars over a cup of Bates' un failing coffee, my spirit was livelier than at any time since a certain evening on which Larry and I had escaped from Tangier with our lives and the curses of the police. It is a melancholy commentary on life that contentment comes more easily through the stomach than along any other avenue. In the great library, with its rich store of books and its eternal candles, I sprawled upon a divan before the fire and smoked and indulged in pleasant speculations. The day had offered much material for fireside reflection, and I reviewed its his tory calmly. There was, however, one incident that I found un pleasant in the retrospect I had been guilty of most 96 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES unehivalrous conduct toward one of the girls of St. Agatha's. It had certainly been unbecoming in me to sit on the wall, however unwillingly, and listen to the words few though they were that passed between her and the chaplain. I forgot the shot through the window; I forgot Bates and the interest my room possessed for him and his unknown accomplice; but the sudden dis trust and contempt I had awakened in the girl by my clownish behavior annoyed me increasingly. I rose presently, found my cap in a closet under the stairs, and went out into the moon-flooded wood toward the lake. The tangle was not so great when you knew the way, and there was indeed, as I had found, the faint suggestion of a path. The moon glorified a broad high way across the water; the air was sharp and still. The houses in the summer colony were vaguely defined, but the sight of them gave me no cheer. The tilt of her tam-o'-shanter as she paddled away into the sunset had conveyed an impression of spirit and dignity that I could not adjust to any imaginable expiation. These reflections carried me to the borders of St Agatha's, and I followed the wall to the gate, climbed up, and sat down in the shadow of the pillar farthest from the lake. Lights shone scatteringly in the build ings of St Agatha's, but the place was wholly silent. I drew out a cigarette and was about to light it whea THE MAN ON THE WALL 97 I heard a sound as of a tread on stone. There was, I knew, no stone pavement at hand, but peering toward the lake I saw a man walking boldly along the top of the wall toward me. The moonlight threw his figure into clear relief. Several times he paused, bent down and rapped upon the wall with an object he carried in his hand. Only a few hours before I had heard a similar sound rising from the wainscoting of my own room in Glen- arm House. Evidently the stone wall, too, was under suspicion ! Tap, tap, tap! The man with the hammer was ex amining the farther side of the gate, and very likely he would carry his investigations beyond it. I drew up my legs and crouched in the shadow of the pillar, revolver in hand. I was not anxious for an encounter; I much preferred to wait for a disclosure of the purpose that lay behind this mysterious tapping upon walls on my grand father's estate. But the matter was taken out of my own hands before I had a chance to debate it. The man dropped to the ground, sounded the stone base under the gate, like wise the pillars, evidently without results, struck a spite ful crack upon the iron bars, then stood up abruptly and looked me straight in the eyes. It was Morgan, the caretaker of the summer colony. 98 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "Good, evening, Mr. Morgan," I said, settling the re- .volver into my hand. There was no doubt about his surprise ; he fell back, staring at me hard, and instinctively drawing the ham mer over his shoulder as though to fling it at me. "Just stay where you are a moment, Morgan/' I said pleasantly, and dropped to a sitting position on the wall for greater ease in talking to him. He stood sullenly, the hammer dangling at arm's length, while my revolver covered his head. "Now, if you please, I'd like to know what you mean by prowling about here and rummaging my house !" "Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Glenarm ? Well, you certainly gave me a bad scare." His air wa? one of relief and his teeth showed pleas antly through his beard. "It certainly is I. But you haven't answered my ques tion. What were you doing in my house to-day ?" He smiled again, shaking his head. "You're really fooling, Mr. Glenarm. I wasn't in your house to-day ; I never was in it in my life !" His white teeth gleamed in his light beard; his hat was pushed back from his forehead so that I saw his eyes, and he wore unmistakably the air of a man whose conscience is perfectly clear. I was confident that he THE MAN ON THE WALL 99 hed, but without appealing to Bates I was not prepared to prove it. "But you can't deny that you're on my grounds now, can you ?" I had dropped the revolver to my knee, but I raised it again. "Certainly not, Mr. Glenarm. If you'll allow me to explain " "That's precisely what I want you to do." "Well, it may seem strange," he laughed, and I felt the least bit foolish to be pointing a pistol at the head of a fellow of so amiable a spirit. "Hurry," I commanded. "Well, as I was saying, it may seem strange; but I was just examining the wall to determine the character of the work. One of the cottagers on the lake left me with the job of building a fence on his place, and I've been expecting to come over to look at this all fall. You see, Mr. Glenarm, your honored grandfather was a master in such matters, as you may know, and I didn't see any harm in getting the benefit to put it so of his experience." I laughed. He had denied having entered the house with so much assurance that I had been prepared for some really plausible explanation of his interest in the wall. 100 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "Morgan you said it was Morgan, didn't you ? you are undoubtedly a scoundrel of the first water. I make the remark with pleasure." "Men have been killed for saying less," he said. "And for doing less than firing through windows at a man's head. It wasn't friendly of you." "I don't see why you center all your suspicions on me. You exaggerate my importance, Mr. Glenarm. I'm only the man-of -all-work at a summer resort." "I wouldn't believe you, Morgan, if you swore on a stack of Bibles as high as this wall." "Thanks !" he ejaculated mockingly. Like a flash he swung the hammer over his head and drove it at me, and at the same moment I fired. The hammer-head struck the pillar near the outer edge and in such a manner that the handle flew around and smote me smartly in the face. By the time I reached the ground the man was already running rapidly through the park, darting in and out among the trees, and I made after him at hot speed. The hammer-handle had struck slantingly across my forehead, and my head ached from the blow. I abused myself roundly for managing the encounter so stupidly, and in my rage fired twice with no aim whatever after the flying figure of the caretaker. He clearly had the advantage of familiarity with the wood, striking off THE MAN ON THE WALL 101 boldly into the heart of it, and quickly widening the distance between us ; but I kept on, even after I ceased to hear him threshing through the undergrowth, and came out presently at the margin of the lake about fifty feet from the boat-house. I waited in the shadow for some time, expecting to see the fellow again, but he did not appear. I found the wall with difficulty and followed it back to the gate. It would be just as well, I thought, to possess myself of the hammer; and I dropped down on the St. Agatha side of the wall and groped about among the leaves until I found it. Then I walked home, went into the library, alight with its many candles just as I had left it, and sat down before the fire to meditate. I had been absent from the house only forty-five minutes. CHAPTER VIII A STRING OF GOLD BEADS A moment later Bates entered with a fresh supply of wood. I watched him narrowly for some sign of per turbation, hut he was not to be caught off guard. Pos sibly he had not heard the shots in the wood; at any rate, he tended the fire with his usual gravity, and after brushing the hearth paused respectfully. "Is there anything further, sir? 5 ' "I believe not, Bates. Oh ! here's a hammer I picked up out in the grounds a bit ago. I wish you'd see if it belongs to the house." He examined the implement with care and shook his head. "It doesn't belong here, I think, sir. But we some times find tools left by the carpenters that worked on the house. Shall I put this in the tool-chest, sir ?" "Never mind. I need such a thing now and then and I'll keep it handy." "Very good, Mr. Glenarm. It's a bit sharper to-night, but we're likely to have sudden changes at this season." 102 A STKING OE GOLD BEADS 103 "I dare say." We were not getting anywhere; the fellow was cer tainly an incomparable actor. "You must find it pretty lonely here, Bates. Don't hesitate to go to the village when you like." "I thank you, Mr. Glenarm ; but I am not much for idling. I keep a few books by me for the evenings. An- nandale is not what you would exactly call a diverting village." "I fancy not. But the caretaker over at the summer resort has even a lonelier time, I suppose. Thaf s what I'd call a pretty cheerless job, watching summer cot tages in the winter." "That's Morgan, sir. I meet him occasionally when I go to the village ; a very worthy person, I should call him, on slight acquaintance." "No doubt of it, Bates. Any time through the win ter you want to have him in for a social glass, it's all right with me." He met my gaze without flinching, and lighted me to the stair with our established ceremony. I voted him an interesting knave and really admired the cool way in which he carried off difficult situations. I had no intention of being killed, and now that I had due warn ing of danger, I resolved to protect myself from foes without and within. Both Bates and Morgan, the care- 104 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES taker, were liars of high attainment. Morgan was, moreover, a cheerful scoundrel, and experience taught me long ago that a knave with humor is doubly dan gerous. Before going to bed I wrote a long letter to Larry Donovan, giving him a full account of my arrival at Glenann House. The thought of Larry always cheered me, and as the pages slipped from my pen I could feel his sympathy and hear him chuckling over the lively be ginning of my year at Glenarm. The idea of being fired upon by an unseen foe would, I knew, give Larry a real lift of the spirit. The next morning I walked into the village, mailed my letter, visited the railway station with true rustic instinct and watched the cutting out of a freight car for Annandale with a pleasure I had not before taken in that proceeding. The villagers stared at me blankly as on my first visit. A group of idle laborers stopped talk ing to watch me ; and when I was a few yards past them they laughed at a remark by one of the number which I could not overhear. But I am not a particularly sen sitive person; I did not care what my Hoosier neigh bors said of me ; all I asked was that they should refrain from shooting at the back of my head through the win dows of my own house. On this day I really began to work. I mapped out A STBING OE GOLD BEADS 105 a course of reading, set up a draftsman's table I found put away in a closet, and convinced myself that I was beginning a year of devotion to architecture. Such was, I felt, the only honest course. I should work every day from eight until one, and my leisure I should give to recreation and a search for the motives that lay behind the crafts and assaults of my enemies. When I plunged into the wood in the middle of the afternoon it was with the definite purpose of returning to the upper end of the lake for an interview with Mor gan, who had, so Bates informed me, a small house back of the cottages. I took the canoe I had chosen for my own use from the boat-house and paddled up the lake. The air was still warm, but the wind that blew out of the south tasted of rain. I scanned the water and the borders of the lake for signs of life, more particularly, I may aa well admit, for a certain maroon-colored canoe and a girl in a red tam-o'-shanter, but lake and summer cot tages were mine alone. I landed and began at once my search for Morgan. There were many paths through the woods back of the cottages, and I followed several futilely before I at last found a small house snugly hid away in a thicket of young maples. The man I was looking for came to the door quickly in response to my knock. 106 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "Good afternoon, Morgan." "Good afternoon, Mr. Glenarm," he said, taking the pipe from his mouth the better to grin at me. He showed no sign of surprise, and I was nettled by his cool reception. There was, perhaps, a certain element of recklessness in my visit to the house of a man who had shown so singular an interest in my affairs, and his cool greeting vexed me. "Morgan " I began. "Won't you come in and rest yourself, Mr. Glenarm ?" he interrupted. "I reckon you're tired from your trip over " "Thank you, no," I snapped. "Suit yourself, Mr. Glenarm." He seemed to like my name and gave it a disagreeable drawling emphasis. "Morgan, you are an infernal blackguard. You have tried twice to kill me " "We'll call it that, if you like," and he grinned. "But you'd better cut off one for this." He lifted the gray fedora hat from his head, and poked his finger through a hole in the to M . "You're a pretty fair shot, Mr. Glenarm. The fact about me is," and he winked, "the honest truth is, I'm all out of practice. Why, sir, when I saw you pad dling out on the lake this afternoon I sighted you A STKING OF GOLD BEADS 107 the casino half a dozen times with my gun, but I was afraid to risk it." He seemed to be shaken with inner mirth. "If Fd missed, I wasn't sure you'd be scared to death!" For a novel diversion I heartily recommend a meet ing with the assassin who has, only a few days or hours before, tried to murder you. I know of nothing in the way of social adventure that is quite equal to it. Mor gan was a fellow of intelligence and, whatever lay back of his designs against me, he was clearly a foe to reckon with. He stood in the doorway calmly awaiting my next move. I struck a match on my box and lighted a cigarette. "Morgan, I hope you understand that I am not re sponsible for any injury my grandfather may have in flicted on you. I hadn't seen him for several years be fore he died. I was never at Glenarm before in my life, so it's a little rough for you to visit your displeas ure on me." He smiled tolerantly as I spoke. I knew and he knew that I did that no ill feeling against my grand father lay back of his interest in my affairs. "You're not quite the man your grandfather was, Mr. Glenarm. You'll excuse my bluntness, but I take it that you're a frank man. He was a very keen person^ 108 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES and, Pm afraid," he chuckled with evident satisfac tion to himself, 'Tin really afraid, Mr. Glenarm, that you're not !" "There you have it, Morgan ! I fully agree with you ! I'm as dull as an oyster ; that's the reason I've called on you for enlightenment. Consider that I'm here under a flag of truce, and let's see if we can't come to an agree ment." "If s too late, Mr. Glenarm; too late. There was a time when we might have done some business ; but that's past now. You seem like a pretty decent fellow, too, and I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner; but better luck next time." He stroked his yellow beard reflectively and shook his head a little sadly. He was not a bad-looking fellow; and he expressed himself well enough with a broad west ern accent. "Well," I said, seeing that I should only make myself ridiculous by trying to learn anything from him, "I hope our little spats- through windows and on walls won't interfere with our pleasant social relations. And I don't hesitate to tell you," I was exerting myself to keep down my anger, "that if I catch you on my grounds again I'll fill you with lead and sink you in the lake." 'Thank you, sir," he said, with so perfect an imita- A STRING OF GOLD BEADS 109 tion of Bates' voice and manner that I smiled in spite of myself. "And now, if you'll promise not to fire into my back I'll wish you good day. Otherwise " He snatched off his hat and bowed profoundly. "It'll 'suit me much better to continue handling the case on your grounds/' he said, as though he referred to a business matter. "Killing a man on your own property requires some explaining you may have noticed it?" "Yes ; I commit most of my murders away from home," I said. "I formed the habit early in life. Good day, Morgan." As I turned away he closed his door with a slam, a delicate way of assuring me that he was acting in good faith, and not preparing to puncture my back with a rifle-ball. I regained the lake-shore, feeling no great discouragement over the lean results of my interview, but rather a fresh zest for the game, whatever the game might be. Morgan was not an enemy to trifle with; he was, on the other hand, a clever and daring foe; and the promptness with which he began war on me the night of my arrival at Glenarm House, indicated that there was method in his hostility. The sun was going his ruddy way beyond St. Agatha's as I drove my canoe into a little cove near which tne 110 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES girl in the tam-o'-shanter had disappeared the day be fore. The shore was high here and at the crest was a long curved bench of stone reached by half a dozen steps, from which one might enjoy a wide view of the country, both across the lake and directly inland. The bench was a pretty bit of work, boldly reminiscential of Alma Tadema, and as clearly the creation of John Marshall Glenarm as though his name had been carved upon it. It was assuredly a spot for a pipe and a mood, and as the shadows crept through the wood before me and the water, stirred by the rising wind, began to beat be low, I invoked the one and yielded to the other. Some thing in the withered grass at my feet caught my eye. I bent and picked up a string of gold beads, dropped there, no doubt, by some girl from the school or a care less member of the summer colony. I counted the sepa rate beads they were round and there were fifty of them. The proper lengtji for one turn about a girl's throat, perhaps; not more than that! I lifted my eyes and looked off toward St. Agatha's. "Child of the red tam-o'-shanter, I'm very sorry I was rude to you yesterday, for I liked your steady stroke with the paddle; and I admired, even more, the way you spurned me when you saw that among all the cads in the world I am number one in Class A. And these A STRING OP GOLD BEADS 111 golden bubbles (0 girl of the red tam-o'-shanter!), if they are not yours you shall help me find the owner, for we are neighbors, you and I, and there must be peace between our houses." With this foolishness I rose, thrust the beads into my pocket, and paddled home in the waning glory of the sunset. That night, as I was going quite late to bed, bearing a candle to light me through the dark hall to my room, I heard a curious sound, as of some one walking stealth ily through the house. At first I thought Bates was still abroad, but I waited, listening for several minutes, with out being able to mark the exact direction of the sound or to identify it with him. I went on to the door of my room, and -/till a muffled step seemed to follow me, first it had come from below, then it was much like some one going up stairs, but where? In my own room I still heard steps, light, slow, but distinct. Again there was a stumble and a hurried recovery, ghosts, I reflected, do not fall down stairs ! The sound died away, seemingly in some remote part of the house, and though I prowled about for an hour it did not recur that night, CHAPTER IX THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT Wind and rain rioted in the wood, and occasionally both fell upon the library windows with a howl and a splash. The tempest had wakened me; it seemed that every chimney in the house held a screaming demon. We were now well-launched upon December, and I was growing used to my surroundings. I had offered my self frequently as a target by land and water ; I had sat on the wall and tempted fate; and I had roamed the house constantly expecting to surprise Bates in some act of treachery; but the days were passing monotonously. I saw nothing of Morgan he had gone to Chicago on some errand, so Bates reported but I continued to walk abroad every day, and often at night, alert for a reopen ing of hostilities. Twice I had seen the red tam-o'- shanter far through the wood, and once I had passed my young acquaintance with another girl, a dark, laughing youngster, walking in the highway, and she had bowed to me coldly. Even the ghost in the wall proved incon stant, but I had twice heard the steps without being able to account for them. Memory kept plucking my sleeve with reminders of 112 THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 113 my grandfather. I was touched at finding constantly his marginal notes in the books he had collected with so much intelligence and loving care. It occurred to me that some memorial, a tablet attached to the outer wall, or perhaps, more properly placed in the chapel, would be fitting; and I experimented with designs for it, cov ering many sheets of drawing-paper in an effort to set forth in a few words some hint of his character. On this gray morning I produced this : 1835 0e fife of 3o0n qjlat:B0aff (Bfenarm fas a testimony fo I0e trirfue of generosity, forBearance cmb genffeneBB 0e Beaufifuf f 0insB 0e foueb were not noBfer f 0cm $tB own 2>ags Bert^eb 0tm iff) of $im 1901 I had drawn these words on a piece of cardboard and was studying them critically when Bates came in with wood. "Those are unmistakable snowflakes, sir," said Bates from the window. "We're in for winter now." It was undeniably snow; great lazy flakes of it were crowding down upon the wood. Bates had not mentioned Morgan or referred even re- 1 motely to the pistol-shot of my first night, and he had 114 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES certainly conducted himself as a model servant. The man-of-all-work at St. Agatha's, a Scotchman named Ferguson, had visited him several times, and I had sur prised them once innocently enjoying their pipes and whisky and water in the kitchen. "They are having trouble at the school, sir/' said Bates from the hearth. "The young ladies running a little wild, eh ?" "Sister Theresa's ill, sir. Ferguson told me last night!" "No doubt Ferguson knows," I declared, moving, the papers about on my desk, conscious, and not ashamed of it, that I enjoyed these dialogues with Bates. I occa sionally entertained the idea that he would some day brain me as I sat dining upon the viands which he pre pared with so much skill; or perhaps he would poison me, that being rather more in his line of business and perfectly easy of accomplishment; but the house was bare and lonely and he was a resource. "So Sister Theresa's ill !" I began, seeing that Bates had nearly finished, and glancing with something akin to terror upon the open pages of a dreary work on Eng lish cathedrals that had put me to sleep the day before. "She's been quite uncomfortable, sir; but they hope to see her out in a few days !" "That's good; I'm glad to hear it." THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 115 "Yes, sir. I think we naturally feel interested, being neighbors. And Ferguson says that Miss Devereux's de votion to her aunt is quite touching." I stood up straight and stared at Bates' back he was trying to stop the rattle which the wind had set up in one of the windows. "Miss L/e^ereux !" I laughed outright. "That's the name, sir, rather odd, I should call it." "Yes, it is rather odd," I said, composed again, but not referring to the name. My mind was busy with a certain paragraph in my grandfather's will : Should he fail to comply with this provision, said prop erty shall revert to my general estate, and become, with out reservation, and without necessity for any process of law, the property, absolutely, of Marian Devereux, of the County and State of New York. "Your grandfather was very fond of her, sir. She and Sister Theresa were abroad at the time he died. It was my sorrowful duty to tell them the sad news in New York, sir, when they landed." "The devil it was !" It irritated me to remember that Bates probably knew exactly the nature of my grand father's will; and the terms of it were not in the least creditable to me. Sister Theresa and her niece were doubtless calmly awaiting my failure to remain at Glenarm House during the disciplinary year, Sister 116 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES Theresa, a Protestant nun, and the niece who probably taught drawing in the school for her keep ! I was sure it was drawing ; nothing else would, I felt, have brought the woman within the pale of my grandfather's benefi cence. I had given no thought to Sister Theresa since com ing to Glenarm. She had derived her knowledge of me from my grandfather, and, such being the case, she would naturally look upon me as a blackguard and a menace to the peace of the neighborhood. I had, there fore, kept rigidly to my own side of the stone wall. A suspicion crossed my mind, marshaling a host of doubts and questions that had lurked there since my first night at Glenarm. "Bates!" He was moving toward the door with his character istic slow step. "If your friend Morgan, or any one else, should shoot me, or if I should tumble into the lake, or otherwise end my earthly career Bates !" His eyes had slipped from mine to the window and I spoke his name sharply. "Yes, Mr. Glenarm." "Then Sister Theresa's niece would get this property and everything else that belonged to Mr. Glenarm." "That's my understanding of the matter, sir." THE GIEL AND THE EABBIT 117 "Morgan, the caretaker, has tried to kill me twice since I came here. He fired at me through the window the night I came, Bates I" I waited for his eyes to meet mine again. His hands opened and shut several times, and alarm and fear con vulsed his face for a moment. "Bates, I'm trying my best to think well of you ; but I want you to understand" I smote the table with my clenched hand "that if these women, or your employer, Mr. Pickering, or that damned hound, Morgan, or you damn you, I don't know who or what you are! think you can scare me away from here, you've waked up the wrong man, and I'll tell you another thing, and you may repeat it to your school-teachers and to Mr. Picker ing, who pays you, and to Morgan, whom somebody has hired to kill me, that I'm going to keep faith with my dead grandfather, and that when I've spent my year here and done what that old man wished me to do, I'll give them this house and every acre of ground and every damned dollar the estate carries with it. And now one other thing ! I suppose there's a sheriff or some kind of a constable with jurisdiction over this place, and I could have the whole lot of you put into jail for conspiracy, but I'm going to stand out against you alone, do you understand me, you hypocrite, you stupid, slinking spy ? Answer me, quick, before I throw you out of the room !" 118 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I had worked myself into a great passion and fairly roared my challenge, pounding the table in my rage. "Yes, sir; I quite understand you, sir. But I'm afraid, sir " "Of course you're afraid!" I shouted, enraged anew by his halting speech. ff You have every reason in the world to be afraid. You've probably heard that I'm a bad lot and a worthless adventurer; but you can tell Sister Theresa or Pickering or anybody you please that I'm ten times as bad as I've ever been painted. Now clear out of here !" He left the room without looking at me again. Dur ing the morning I strolled through the house several times to make sure he had not left it to communicate with some of his fellow plotters, but I was, I admit, dis appointed to find him in every instance busy at some wholly proper task. Once, indeed, I found him clean ing my storm boots ! To find him thus humbly devoted to my service after the raking I had given him dulled the edge of my anger. I went back to the library and planned a cathedral in seven styles of architecture, all unrelated and impossible, and when this began to bore me I designed a crypt in which the wicked should be buried standing on theii heads and only the very good might lie and sleep in peace. These diversions and sev eral black cigars won me to a more amiable mood. I THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 119 felt better, on the whole, for having announced myself to the delectable Bates, who gave me for luncheon a brace of quails, done in a manner that stripped criti cism of all weapons. We did not exchange a word, and after knocking about in the library for several hours I went out for a tramp. Winter had indeed come and possessed the earth, and it had given me a new landscape. The snow continued to fa 1 ! in great, heavy flakes, and the ground was whitening fast. A rabbit's track caught my eye and I followed it, hardly conscious that I did so. Then the clear print of two small shoes mingled with the rabbit's trail. A few moments later I picked up an overshoe, evidently lost in the chase by one of Sister Theresa's girls, I reflected. I remembered that while at Tech I had collected diverse memorabilia from school-girl acquaintances, and here I was beginning a new series with a string of beads and an overshoe ! A rabbit is always an attractive quarry. Few things besides riches are so elusive, and the little fellows have, I am sure, a shrewd humor peculiar to themselves. I rather envied the school-girl who had ventured forth for a run in the first snow-storm of the season. I recalled Aldrich's turn on Gautier's lines as I followed the double trail : 120 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "Howe'er you tread, a tiny mould Betrays that light foot all the same; Upon this glistening, snowy fold At every step it signs your name." A pretty autograph, indeed ! The snow fell steadily and I tramped on over the joint signature of the girl and the rabbit. Near the lake they parted company, the rabbit leading off at a tangent, on a line parallel with the lake, while his pursuer's steps pointed toward the boat-house. There was, so far as I knew, only one student of ad venturous blood at St. Agatha's, and I was not in the least surprised to see, on the little sheltered balcony of the boat-house, the red tam-o'-shanter. She wore, too, the covert coat I remembered from the day I saw her first from the wall. Her back was toward me as I drew near ; her hands were thrust into her pockets. She was evidently enjoying the soft mingling of the snow with the still, blue waters of the lake, and a girl and a snow storm are, if you ask my opinion, a pretty combination. The fact of a girl's facing a winter storm argues mightily in her favor, testifies, if you will allow me, to a serene and dauntless spirit, for one thing, and a sound constitution, for another. I ran up the steps, my cap in one hand, her overshoe THE GIEL AND THE EABBIT 121 in the other. She drew back a trifle, just enough to bring my conscience to its knees. "I didn't mean to listen that day. I just happened to be on the wall and it was a thoroughly underbred trick my twitting you about it and I should have told you before if I'd known how to see you " "May I trouble you for that shoe?" she said with a great deal of dignity. They taught that cold disdain of man, I supposed, as a required study at St. Agatha's. "Oh, certainly ! Won't you allow me ?" "Thank you, no !" I was relieved, to tell the truth, for I had been out of the world for most of that period in which a youngster perfects himself in such graces as the putting on of a girl's overshoes. She took the damp bit of rubber a wet overshoe, even if small and hallowed by associations, isn't pretty as Venus might have received a soft-shell crab from the hand of a fresh young merman. I was between her and the steps to which her eyes turned long ingly. "Of course, if you won't accept my apology I can't do anything about it; but I hope you understand that Fm sincere and humble, and anxious to be forgiven." "You seem to be making a good deal of a small mat ter THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES *I wasn't referring to the overshoe I" I said. She did not relent. "If you'll only go away " She rested one hand against the corner of the boat- house while she put on the overshoe. She wore, I no ticed, brown gloves with cuffs. "How can I go away ! You children are always leav ing things about for me to pick up. I'm perfectly worn out carrying some girl's beads about with me; and I spoiled a good glove on your overshoe." "I'll relieve you of the beads, too, if you please." And her tone measurably reduced my stature. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her coat and shook the tam-o'-shanter slightly, to establish it in a more comfortable spot on her head. The beads had been in my corduroy coat since I found them. I drew them out and gave them to her. "Thank you ; thank you very much." "Of course they are yours, Miss " She thrust them into her pocket. "Of course they're mine," she said indignantly, and turned to go. "We'll waive proof of property and that sort of thing," I remarked, with, I fear, the hope of detaining her. "I'm sorry not to establish a more neighborly feeling with St. Agatha's. The stone wall may seem formi- THE GIEL AND THE BABBIT 123 dable, but it's not of my building. I must open the gate. That wall's a trifle steep for climbing." I was amusing myself with the idea that my identity was a dark mystery to her. I had read English novels in which the young lord of the manor is always mis taken for the game-keeper's son by the pretty daughter of the curate who has come home from school to be the belle of the county. But my lady of the red tam-o'- shanter was not a creature of illusions. "It serves a very good purpose the wall, I mean Mr. Glenarm." She was walking down the steps and I followed. I am not a man to suffer a lost school-girl to cross my lands unattended in a snow-storm; and the piazza of a boat-house is not, I submit, a pleasant loafing-place on a winter day. She marched before me, her hands in her pockets I liked her particularly that way with an easy swing and a light and certain step. Her remark about the wall did not encourage further conversation and I fell back upon the poets. "Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage/' I quoted. Quoting poetry in a snow-storm while you stumble through a woodland behind a girl who shows no interest in either your prose or your rhymes has its 124 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES embarrassments, particularly when you are breathing a trifle hard from the swift pace your auditor is leading you. "I have heard that before," she said, half -turning her face, then laughing as she hastened on. Her brilliant cheeks were a delight to the eye. The snow swirled about her, whitened the crown of her red cap and clung to her shoulders. Have you ever seen snow-crystals gleam, break, dissolve in fair, soft, storm- blown hair? Do you know how a man will pledge his soul that a particular flake will never fade, never cease to rest upon a certain flying strand over a girlish tem ple? And he loses his heart and his wager in a breath ! If you fail to understand these things, and are furthermore unfamiliar with the fact that the color in the cheeks of a girl who walks abroad in a driving snow storm marks the favor of Heaven itself, then I waste time, and you will do well to rap at the door of another inn. "Fd rather missed you," I said; "and, really, I should have been over to apologize if I hadn't been afraid." "Sister Theresa is rather fierce," she declared. "And we're not allowed to receive gentlemen callers, it says so in the catalogue." "So I imagined. I trust Sister Theresa is improv ing." THE GIEL AND THE EABBIT 125 "Yes ; thank you." "And Miss Devereux, she is quite well, I hope ?" She turned her head as though to listen more care fully, and her step slackened for a moment; then she hurried blithely forward. "Oh, she's always well, I believe." "You know her, of course." "Oh, rather ! She gives us music lessons." "So Miss Devereux is the music-teacher, is she? Should you call her a popular teacher?" "The girls call her" she seemed moved to mirth by the recollection "Miss Prim and Prosy." "Ugh !" I exclaimed sympathetically. "Tall and hun gry-looking, with long talons that pound the keys with grim delight. I know the sort." "She's a sight !" and my guide laughed approvingly. "But we have to take her ; she's part of the treatment." "You speak of St. Agatha's as though it were a sana torium." "Oh, it's not so bad ! I've seen worse." "Where do most of the students come from, all what you call Hoosiers ?" "Oh, no! They're from all over Cincinnati, Chi cago, Cleveland, Indianapolis." "What the magazines call the Middle West." "I believe that is so. The bishop addressed us once 126 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES as the flower of the Middle West 2 and made us realty wish he'd come again/' We were approaching the gate. Her indifference to the storm delighted me. Here, I thought in my admira tion, is a real product of the western world. I felt that we had made strides toward such a comradeship as it is proper should exist between a school-girl in her teens and a male neighbor of twenty-seven. I was going back to English fiction the young squire walking home with the curate's pretty young daughter and conversing with fine condescension. "We girls all wish we could come over and help hunt the lost treasure. It must be simply splendid to live in a house where there's a mystery, secret passages and chests of doubloons and all that sort of thing! My! Squire Glenarm, I suppose you spend all your nights ex ploring secret passages." This free expression of opinion startled me, though she seemed wholly innocent of impertinence. "Who says there's any secret about the house ?" I de manded. "Oh, Ferguson, the gardener, and all the girls !" "I fear Ferguson is drawing on his imagination." "Well, all the people in the village think so. I've heard the candy-shop woman speak of it often." "She'd better attend to her taffy," I reported. THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 127 "Oh, you mustn't be sensitive about it ! All us girls think it ever so romantic, and we call you sometimes the lord of the realm, and when we see you walking through the darkling wood at evenfall we say, 'My lord is brood ing upon the treasure chests/ " This, delivered in the stilted tone of one who is half- quoting and half-improvising, was irresistibly funny, and I laughed with good will. "I hope you've forgiven me " I began, kicking the gate to knock off the snow, and taking the key from my pocket. "But I haven't, Mr. Glenarm. Your assumption is, to say the least, unwarranted, I got that from a book 1" "It isn't fair for you to know my name and for me not to know yours," I said leadingly. "You are perfectly right. You are Mr. John Glen- arm the gardener told me and I am just Olivia. They don't allow me to be called Miss yet. I'm very young, sir I" "You've only told me half," and I kept my hand on the closed gate. The snow still fell steadily and the short afternoon was nearing its close. I did not like to lose her, the life, the youth, the mirth for which she stood. The thought of Glenarm House amid the snow- hung wood and of the long winter evening that I must spend alone moved me to delay. Lights already gleamed 128 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES in the school-buildings straight before us and the sight of them smote me with loneliness. "Olivia Gladys Armstrong/' she said, laughing, brushed past me through the gate and ran lightly over the snow toward St. Agatha's. CHAPTEB X AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER I read in the library until late, hearing the howl of the wind outside with satisfaction in the warmth and comfort of the great room. Bates brought in some sand wiches and a bottle of ale at midnight. "If there's nothing more, sir " "That is all, Bates." And he went off sedately to his own quarters. I was restless and in no mood for bed and mourned the lack of variety in my grandfather's library. I moved about from shelf to shelf, taking down one book after another, and while thus engaged came upon a series of large volumes extra-illustrated in water-colors of un usual beauty. They occupied a lower shelf, and I sprawled on the floor, like a boy with a new picture-book, in my absorption, piling the great volumes about me. They were on related subjects pertaining to the French chateaux. In the last volume I found a sheet of white note- paper no larger than my hand, a forgotten book-mark, 129 130 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I assumed, and half -crumpled it in my fingers before I noticed the lines of a pencil sketch on one side of it. I carried it to the table and spread it out. It was not the bit of idle penciling it had appeared to be at first sight. A scale had evidently been followed and the lines drawn with a ruler. With such trifles my grandfather had no doubt amused himself. There was a long corridor indicated, but of this I could make noth ing. I studied it for several minutes, thinking it might have been a tentative sketch of some part of the house. In turning it about under the candelabrum I saw that in several places the glaze had been rubbed from the paper by an eraser, and this piqued my curiosity. I brought a magnifying glass to bear upon the sketch. The drawing had been made with a hard pencil and the eraser had removed the lead, but a well-defined imprint remained. I was able to make out the letters N. W. % to C. a reference clearly enough to points of the compass and ia distance. The word ravine was scrawled over a rough outline of a doorway or opening of some sort, and then the phrase: THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT Now I am rather an imaginative person ; that is why engineering captured my fancy. It was through his try- AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 131 ing to make an architect (a person who quarrels with women about their kitchen sinks !) of a boy who wanted to be an engineer that my grandfather and I failed to hit it off. From boyhood I have never seen a great bridge or watched a locomotive climb a difficult hillside without a thrill; and a lighthouse still seems to me quite the finest monument a man can build for himself. My grandfather's devotion to old churches and medieval houses always struck me as trifling and unworthy of a grown man. And fate was busy with my affairs that night, for, instead of lighting my pipe with the littib sketch, I was strangely impelled to study it seriously. I drew for myself rough outlines of the interior of Glenann House as it had appeared to me, and then I tried to reconcile the little sketch with every part of it. "The Door of Bewilderment" was the charm that held me. The phrase was in itself a lure. The man who had built a preposterous house in the woods of Indiana and called it "The House of a Thousand Candles" was quite capable of other whims ; and as I bent over this scrap of paper in the candle-lighted library it occurred to me that possibly I had not done justice to my grandfather's genius. My curiosity was thoroughly aroused as to the hidden corners of the queer old house, round which the wind shrieked tonnentingly. 132 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I went to my room, put on my corduroy coat for its greater warmth in going through the cold halls, took a candle and went below. One o'clock in the morning is not the most cheering hour for exploring the dark re cesses of a strange house, but I had resolved to have a look at the ravine-opening and determine, if possible, whether it bore any relation to "The Door of Bewilder ment/' All was quiet in the great cellar ; only here and there an area window rattled dolorously. I carried a tape- line with me and made measurements of the length and depth of the corridor and of the chambers that were set off from it. These figures I entered in my note-book for further use, and sat down on an empty nail-keg to re flect. The place was certainly substantial; the candle at my feet burned steadily with no hint of a draft ; but I saw no solution of my problem. All the doors along the corridor were open, or yielded readily to my hand. I was losing sleep for nothing; my grandfather's sketch was meaningless, and I rose and picked up my candle, yawning. Then a curious thing happened. The candle, whose thin flame had risen unwaveringly, sputtered and went out as a sudden gust swept the corridor. I had left nothing open behind me, and the outer AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 133 doors of the house were always locked and barred. But some one had gained ingress to the cellar by an opening of which I knew nothing. I faced the stairway that led up to the back hall of the house, when to my astonishment, steps sounded behind me and, turning, I saw, coming toward me, a man carry ing a lantern. I marked his careless step; he was un doubtedly on familiar ground. As I watched him he paused, lifted the lantern to a level with his eyes and began sounding the wall with a hammer. Here, undoubtedly, was my friend Morgan, again! There was the same periodicity in the beat on the wall that I had heard in my own rooms. He began at the top and went methodically to the floor. I leaned against the wall where I stood and watched the lantern slowly coming toward me. The small revolver with which I had fired at his flying figure in the wood was in my pocket. It was just as well to have it out with the fellow now. My chances were as good as his, though I confess I did not relish the thought of being found dead the next morning in the cellar of my own house. It pleased my humor to let him approach in this way, un conscious that he was watched, until I should thrust my pistol into his face. His arms grew tired when he was about ten feet from 134 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES me and he dropped the lantern and hammer to his side, and swore under his breath impatiently. Then he began again, with greater zeal. As he came nearer I studied his face in the lantern's light with in terest. His hat was thrust back, and I could see his jaw hard-set under his blond beard. He took a step nearer, ran his eyes over the wall and resumed his tapping. The ceiling was something less than eight feet, and he began at the top. In settling himself for the new series of strokes he swayed toward me slightly, and I could hear his hard breathing. I was deliberating how best to throw myself upon him, but as I wavered he stepped back, swore at his ill-luck and flung the hammer to the ground. "Thanks !" I shouted, leaping forward and snatching the lantern. "Stand just where you are !" With the revolver in my right hand and the lantern held high in my left, I enjoyed his utter consternation, as my voice roared in the corridor. "It's too bad we meet under such strange circum stances, Morgan," I said. "I'd begun to miss you; but I suppose you've been sleeping in the daytime to gather strength for your night prowling." "You're a fool," he growled. He was recovering from his fright, I knew it by the gleam of his teeth in his AST AFFAIR WITH THE CAEETAKER 135 yellow beard. His eyes, too, were moving restlessly about. He undoubtedly knew the house better than I did, and was considering the best means of escape. I did not know what to do with him now that I had him at the point of a pistol ; and in my ignorance of his mo tives and my vague surmise as to the agency back of him, I was filled with uncertainty. "You needn't hold that thing quite so near," he said, staring at me coolly. "I'm glad it annoys you, Morgan," I said. "It may help you to answer some questions I'm going to put to you." "So you want information, do you, Mr. Glenarm ? I should think it would be beneath the dignity of a great man like you to ask a poor devil like me for help." "We're not talking of dignity," I said. "I want you to tell me how you got in here." He laughed. "You're a very shrewd one, Mr. Glenarm. I came in by the kitchen window, if you must know. I got in be fore your solemn jack-of-all-trades locked up, and I walked down to the end of the passage there" he in dicated the direction with a slight jerk of his head "and slept until it was time to go to work. You can see how easy it was!" 136 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES I laughed now at the sheer assurance of the fellow. "If you can't lie better than that you needn't try again. Face ahout now, and march !" I put new energy into my tone, and he turned and walked before me down the corridor in the direction from which he had come. We were, I dare say, a pretty pair, he tramping doggedly before me, I following at his heels with his lantern and my pistol. The situation had played prettily into my hands, and I had every in tention of wresting from him the reason for his interest in Glenarm House and my affairs. "Not so fast," I admonished sharply. "Excuse me," he replied mockingly. He was no common rogue; I felt the quality in him with a certain admiration for his scoundrelly talents a fellow, I reflected, who was best studied at the point of a pistol. I continued at his heels, and poked the muzzle of the revolver against his back from time to time to keep him assured of my presence, a device that I was to regret a second later. We were about ten yards from the end of the corridor when he flung himself backward upon me, threw his arms over his head and seized me about the neck, turn ing himself lithely until his fingers clasped my throat. I fired blindly once, and felt the smoke of the re- AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 137 volver hot in my own nostrils. The lantern fell from my hand, and one or the other of us smashed it with our feet. A wrestling match in that dark hole was not to my liking. I still held on to the revolver, waiting for a chance to use it, and meanwhile he tried to throw me, forcing me back against one side and then the other of the passage. With a quick rush he flung me away, and in the same second I fired. The roar of the shot in the narrow cor ridor seemed interminable. I flung myself on the floor, expecting a return shot, and quickly enough a flash broke upon the darkness dead ahead, and I rose to my feet, fired again and leaped to the opposite side of the corridor and crouched there. We had adopted the same tactics, firing and dodging to avoid the target made by the flash of our pistols, and watching and listening after the roar of the explosions. It was a very pretty game, but des tined not to last long. He was slowly retreating toward the end of the passage, where there was, I remembered, a dead wall. His only chance was to crawl through an area window I knew to be there, and this would, I felt sure, give him into my hands. After five shots apiece there was a truce. The pungent smoke of the powder caused me to cough, and he laughed. 138 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAOT)LES "Have you swallowed a bullet, Mr. Glenarm?" he called. I could hear his feet scraping on the cement floor; he was moving away from me, doubtless intending to fire when he reached the area window and escape before I could reach him. I crept warily after him, ready to fire on the instant, but not wishing to throw away my last cartridge. That I resolved to keep for close quar ters at the window. He was now very near the end of the corridor; I heard his feet strike some boards that I remembered lay on the floor there, and I was nerved for a shot and a hand-to-hand struggle, if it came to that. I was sure that he sought the window; I heard his hands on the wall as he felt for it. Then a breath of cold air swept the passage, and I knew he must be drawing himself up to the opening. I fired and dropped to the floor. With the roar of the explosion I heard him yell, but the expected return shot did not follow. The pounding of my heart seemed to mark the pass ing of hours. I feared that my foe was playing some trick, creeping toward me, perhaps, to fire at close range, or to grapple with me in the dark. The cold air still whistled into the corridor, and I began to feel the chill of it. Being fired upon is disagreeable enough, but waiting in the dark for the shot is worse. AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 139? I rose and walked toward the end of the passage. Then his revolver flashed and roared directly ahead, the flame of it so near that it blinded me. I fell for ward confused and stunned, but shook myself together in a moment and got upon my feet. The draft of air no longer blew into the passage. Morgan had taken himself off through the window and closed it after him. I made sure of this by going to the window and feeling of it with my hands. I went back and groped about for my candle, which I found without difficulty and lighted. I then returned to the window to examine the catch. To my utter as tonishment it was fastened with staples, driven deep into the sash, in such way that it could not possibly have been opened without the aid of tools. I tried it at every point. Not only was it securely fastened, but it could not possibly be opened without an expenditure of time and labor. There was no doubt whatever that Morgan knew more about Glenarm House than I did. It was possi ble, but not likely, that he had crept past me in the cor ridor and gone out through the house, or by some other cellar window. My eyes were smarting from the smoke of the last shot, and my cheek stung where the burnt powder had struck my face. I was alive, but in my vexa- 140 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES tion and perplexity not, I fear, grateful for my safety. It was, however, some consolation to feel sure I had winged the enemy. I gathered up the fragments of Morgan's lantern and went back to the library. The lights in half the candle sticks had sputtered out. I extinguished the remainder and started to my room. Then, in the great dark hall, I heard a muffled tread as of some one following me, not on the great stair case, nor in any place I could identify, yet unmistak ably on steps of some sort beneath or above me. My nerves were already keyed to a breaking pitch, and the ghost-like tread in the hall angered me Morgan, or hi& ally, Bates, I reflected, at some new trick. I ran into my room, found a heavy walking-stick and set off for Bates' room on the third floor. It was always easy to attribute any sort of mischief to the fellow, and undoubtedly he was crawling through the house somewhere on an errand that boded no good to me. It was now past two o'clock and he should have been asleep and out of the way long ago. I crept to his room and threw open the door without, I must say, the slight est idea of finding him there. But Bates, the enigma, Bates, the incomparable cook, the perfect servant, sat at a table, the light of several candles falling on a book A.N AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 141 over which he was bent with that maddening gravity he had never yet in my presence thrown off. He rose at once, stood at attention, inclining his head slightly. "Yes, Mr. Glenarm." "Yes, the devil!" I roared at him, astonished at finding him, sorry, I must say, that he was there. The stick fell from my hands. I did not doubt he knew perfectly well that I had some purpose in breaking in upon him. I was baffled and in my rage floundered for words to explain myself. "I thought I heard some one in the house. I don't want you prowling about in the night, do you hear ?" "Certainly not, sir," he replied in a grieved tone. I glanced at the book he had been reading. It was a volume of Shakespeare's comedies, open at the first scene of the last act of The Winter's Tale. "Quite a pretty bit of work that, I should say," he remarked. "It was one of my late master's favorites." "Go to the devil !" I bawled at him, and went down to my room and slammed the door in rage and chagrin. CHAPTER XI I RECEIVE A CALLER Going to bed at three o'clock on a winter morning in a house whose ways are disquieting, after a duel in which you escaped whole only by sheer good luck, does not fit one for sleep. When I finally drew the covers over me it was to lie and speculate upon the events of the night in connection with the history of the few weeks I had spent at Glenarm. Larry had suggested in New York that Pickering was playing some deep game, and I, myself, could not accept Pickering's state ment that my grandfather's large fortune had proved to be a myth. If Pickering had not stolen or dissipated it, where was it concealed? Morgan was undoubtedly ilooking for something of value or he would not risk his life in the business ; and it was quite possible that he was employed by Pickering to search for hidden prop erty. This idea took strong hold of me, the more read ily, I fear, since I had always been anxious to see evil in Pickering. There was, to be sure, the unknown al- 142 I RECEIVE A CALLER 143 tentative heir, but neither she nor Sister Theresa was, I imagined, a person capable of hiring an assassin to kill me. On reflection I dismissed the idea of appealing to the county authorities, and I never regretted that reso lution. The seat of Wabana County was twenty miles away, the processes of law were unfamiliar, and I wished to avoid publicity. Morgan might, of course, have been easily disposed of by an appeal to the Annan- dale constable, but now that I suspected Pickering of treachery the caretaker's importance dwindled. I had waited all my life for a chance at Arthur Pickering, and in this affair I hoped to draw him into the open and settle with him. I slept presently, but woke at my usual hour, and after a tub felt ready for another day. Bates served me, as usual, a breakfast that gave a fair aspect to the morning. I was alert for any sign of perturbation in him; but I had already decided that I might as well look for emotion in a stone wall as in this placid, color less serving man. I had no reason to suspect him of complicity in the night's affair, but I had no faith in him, and merely waited until he should throw himself more boldly into the game. By my plate next morning I found this note, written in a clear, bold, woman's hand : 144 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES The Sisters of St. Agatha trust that the intrusion upon his grounds by Miss Armstrong, one of their students, has caused Mr. Glenarm no annoyance. The Sisters beg that this infraction of their discipline will be overlooked, and they assure Mr. Glenarm that it will not recur. An unnecessary apology! The note-paper was of the best quality. At the head of the page "St. Agatha's, Annandale" was embossed in purple. It was the first note I had received from a woman for a long time, and it gave me a pleasant emotion. One of the Sisters I had seen beyond the wall undoubtedly wrote it possibly Sister Theresa herself. A clever woman, that! Thor oughly capable of plucking money from guileless old gentlemen ! Poor Olivia ! born for freedom, but doomed to a pent-up existence with a lot of nuns ! I resolved to send her a box of candy sometime, just to annoy her grim guardians. Then my own affairs claimed attention. "Bates," I asked, "do you know what Mr. Glenarm did with the plans for the house ?" He started slightly. I should not have noticed it if I had not been keen for his answer. "No, sir. I can't put my hand upon them, sir." "That's all very well, Bates, but you didn't answer my question. Do you know where they are? Til put my hand on them if you will kindly tell me where they're kept." I EECEIYE CALLER "Mr. Glenarm, I fear very much that they have been 'destroyed. I tried to find them before you came, to tell you the whole truth, sir; but they must have been made 'way with." "That's very interesting, Bates. Will you kindly tell me whom you suspect of destroying them? The toast again, please." His hand shook as he passed the plate. "I hardly like to say, sir, when it's only a suspicion/* "Of course I shouldn't ask you to incriminate your self, but I'll have to insist on my question. It majr have occurred to you, Bates, that I'm in a sense in a sense, mind you the master here." "Well, I should say, if you press me, that I fear Mr. Glenarm, your grandfather, burned the plans when he left here the last time. I hope you will pardon me, sir, for seeming to reflect upon him." "Reflect upon the devil ! What was his idea, do you suppose ?" "I think, sir, if you will pardon " "Don't be so fussy!" I snapped. "Damn your par don, and go on !" "He wanted you to study out the place for yourself, sir. It was dear to his heart, this house. He set hia heart upon having you enjoy it " "I like the word go ahead." 146 THE HOUSE OF A 1 THOUSAND CANDLES "And I suppose there are things about it that he! wished you to learn for yourself." "You know them, of course, and are watching me to see when I'm hot or cold, like kids playing hide the handkerchief." The fellow turned and faced me across the table. "Mr. Glenarm, as I hope God may be merciful to me in the last judgment, I don't know any more than you do." "You were here with Mr. Glenarm all the time he was building the house, but you never saw walls built that weren't what they appeared to be, or doors made that didn't lead anywhere." I summoned all my irony and contempt for this ar raignment. He lifted his hand, as though making oath. "As God sees me, that is all true. I was here to care for the dead master's comfort and not to spy on him." "And Morgan, your friend, what about him?" "I wish I knew, sir." "I wish to the devil you did," I said, and flung out of the room and into the library. At eleven o'clock I heard a pounding at the great front door and Bates came to announce a caller, who was now audibly knocking the snow from his shoes in the outer hall. I EECEIVE r & CALLER 147 I "The Eeverend Paul Stoddard, sir." The chaplain of St. Agatha's was a big fellow, as I had remarked on the occasion of his interview with Olivia Gladys Armstrong by the wall. His light brown ( hair was close-cut ; his smooth-shaven face was bright with the freshness of youth. Here was a sturdy young apostle without frills, but with a vigorous grip that left my hand tingling. His voice was deep and musical, a voice that suggested sincerity and inspired confidence. "I'm afraid I haven't been neighborly, Mr. Glenarm. I was called away from home a few days after I heard of your arrival, and I have just got back. I blew in yesterday with the snow-storm." He folded his arms easily and looked at me with cheerful directness, as though politely interested in what manner of man I might be. "It was a fine storm ; I got a great day out of it," I said. "An Indiana snow-storm is something I have never experienced before." "This is my second winter. I came out here because I wished to do some reading, and thought I'd rather do it alone than in a university." "Studious habits are rather forced on one out here, I should say. In my own case my course of reading is all cut out for me." He ran his eyes over the room. 148 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "The Glenann collection is famous, the best in the country, easily. Mr. Glenarm, your grandfather, was certainly an enthusiast. I met him several times; he was a trifle hard to meet," and the clergyman smiled. I felt rather uncomfortable, assuming that he prob ably knew I was undergoing discipline, and why my grandfather had so ordained it. The Keverend Paul Stoddard was so simple, unaffected and manly a fellow that I shrank from the thought that I must appear to him an ungrateful blackguard whom my grandfather had marked with obloquy. "My grandfather had his whims; but he was a fine, generous-hearted old gentleman," I said. "Yes; in my few interviews with him he surprised me by the range of his knowledge. He was quite able to instruct me in certain curious branches of church history that had appealed to him." "Yon were here when he built the house, I suppose ?" My visitor laughed- cheerfully. "I was on my side of the barricade for a part of the time. You know there was a great deal of mystery about the building of this house. The country-folk hereabouts can't quite get over it. They have a super stition that there's treasure buried somewhere on the place. You see, Mr. Glenarm wouldn't employ any local labor. The work was done by men he brought from I EECEIV^ A ALLER 149' afar, none of them, the villagers say, could speak Eng lish. They were all Greeks or Italians/' "I have heard something of the kind," I remarked, feeling that here was a man who with a little cultivat ing might help me to solve some of my riddles. "You haven't been on our side of the wall yet? Well, I promise not to molest your hidden treasure if you'll be neighborly." "I fear there's a big joke involved in the hidden treasure," I replied. "I'm so busy staying at home to guard it that I have no time for social recreation." He looked at me quickly to see whether I was joking. His eyes were steady and earnest. The Keverend Paul Stoddard impressed me more and more agreeably. There was a suggestion of a quiet strength about him that drew me to him. "I suppose every one around here thinks of nothing but that I'm at Glenarm to earn my inheritance. My residence here must look pretty sordid from the out side." "Mr. Glenarm's will is a matter of record in the county, of course. But you are too hard on yourself. It's nobody's business if your grandfather wished to visit his whims on you. I should say, in my own case, that I don't consider it any of my business what you are here for. I didn't come over to annoy you or to 150 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES pry into your affairs. I get lonely now and then, and thought I'd .like to establish neighborly relations." "Thank you; I appreciate your coming very much/' and my heart warmed under the manifest kindness of the man. "And I hope" he spoke for the first time with re straint "I hope nothing may prevent your knowing Sister Theresa and Miss Devereux. They are interest ing and charming the only women about here of your own social status." My liking for him abated slightly. He might be a detective, representing the alternative heir, for all I knew, and possibly Sister Theresa was a party to the conspiracy. "In time, no doubt, in time, I shall know them," I answered evasively. "Oh, quite as you like!" and he changed the sub ject. We talked of many things, of outdoor sports, with which he showed great familiarity, of universities, of travel and adventure. He was a Columbia man and had spent two years at Oxford. "Well," he exclaimed, "this has been very pleasant, but I must run. I have just been over to see Morgan, the caretaker at the resort village. The poor fellow ac cidentally shot himself yesterday, cleaning his gun or something of that sort, and he has an ugly hole in his I EECEIVE CALLER arm that will shut him in for a month or worse. He gave me an errand to do for him. He's a conscientious fellow and wished me to wire for him to Mr. Pickering that he'd been hurt, but was attending to his duties. Pickering owns a cottage over there, and Morgan has charge of it. You know Pickering, of course ?" I looked my clerical neighbor straight in the eye, a trifle coldly perhaps. I was wondering why Morgan, with whom I had enjoyed a duel in my own cellar only a few hours before, should be reporting his injury to Arthur Pickering. "I think I have seen Morgan about here," I said. "Oh, yes ! He's a woodsman and a hunter our Nim- rod of the lake." "A good sort, very likely !" "I dare say. He has sometimes brought me ducks during the season." "To be sure! They shoot ducks at night, these Hoosier hunters, so I hear!" He laughed as he shook himself into his greatcoat. "That's possible, though unsportsmanlike. But we don't have to look a gift mallard in the eye." We laughed together. I found that it was easy to laugh with him. "By the way, I forgot to get Pickering's address from Morgan. If you happen to have it " 153 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES "With pleasure," I said. "Alexis Building, Broad way, New York." "Good! That's easy to remember," he said, smiling and turning up his coat collar. "Don't forget me; I'm quartered in a hermit's cell back of the chapel, and I believe we can find many matters of interest to talk about." "I'm confident of it," I said, glad of the sympathy and cheer that seemed to emanate from his stalwart figure. I threw on my overcoat and walked to the gate with him, and saw him hurry toward the village with long strides. CHAPTER XII I EXPLORE A PASSAGE "Bates !" I found him busy replenishing the candle sticks in the library, it seemed to me that he was al ways poking about with an armful of candles, "there are a good many queer things in this world, but I guess you're one of the queerest. I don't mind telling you that there are times when I think you a thoroughly bad lot, and then again I question my judgment and don't give you credit for being much more than a doddering fool." He was standing on a ladder beneath the great crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling, and looked down upon me with that patient injury that is so appealing in a dog in, say, the eyes of an Irish setter, when you accidentally step on his tail. That look is heartbreaking in a setter, but, seen in a man, it arouses the direst homicidal feelings of which I am capable. "Yes, Mr. Glenarm," he replied humbly. "Now, I want you to grasp this idea that I'm going 153 154 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES to dig into this old shell top and bottom; I'm going to blow it up with dynamite, if I please ; and if I catch you spying on me or reporting my doings to my ene mies, or engaging in any questionable performances whatever, I'll hang you between the posts out there in the school-wall do you understand ? so that the sweet Sisters of St. Agatha and the dear little school-girls and the chaplain and all the rest will shudder through all their lives at the very thought of you." "Certainly, Mr. Glenarm," and his tone was the same he would have used if I had asked him to pass me the matches, and under my breath I consigned him to the harshest tortures of the fiery pit. "Now, as to Morgan " "Yes, sir." "What possible business do you suppose he has with Mr. Pickering?" I demanded. "Why, sir, that's clear enough. Mr. Pickering owns a house up the lake, he got it through your grand father. Morgan has the care of it, sir." "Very plausible, indeed !" and I sent him off to his work. After luncheon I went below and directly to the end of the corridor, and began to sound the walls. To the eye they were all alike, being of cement, and substantial enough. Through the area window I saw the solid earth I EXPLORE A 1 PASSAGE 155 and snow; surely there was little here to base hope upon, and my wonder grew at the ease with which Morgan had vanished through a barred window and into frozen ground. o The walls at the end of the passage were as solid as rock, and they responded dully to the stroke of the hammer. I sounded them on both sides, retracing my steps to the stairway, becoming more and more impa tient at my ill-luck or stupidity. There was every rea son why I should know my own house, and yet a stran ger and an outlaw ran through it with amazing daring. After an hour's idle search I returned to the end of the corridor, repeated all my previous soundings, and., I fear, indulged in language unbecoming a gentleman. Then, in my blind anger, I found what patient search' had not disclosed. I threw the hammer from me in a fit of temper; it struck upon a large square in the cement floor which gave forth a hollow sound. I was on my knees in an instant, my fingers searching the cracks, and drawing down close I could feel a current of air, slight but un mistakable, against my face. The cement square, though exactly like the others in the cellar floor, was evidently only a wooden imitation, covering an opening beneath. The block was fitted into its place with a nicety that 156 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES certified to the skill of the hand that had adjusted it. I broke a blade of my pocket-knife trying to pry it up, but in a moment I succeeded, and found it to be in reality a trap-door, hinged to the substantial part of the floor. A current of cool fresh air, the same that had sur prised me in the night, struck my face as I lay flat and peered into the opening. The lower passage was as black as pitch, and I lighted a lantern I had brought with me, found that wooden steps gave safe conduct below and went down. I stood erect in the passage and had s ;veral inches to spare. It extended both ways, running back under the foundations of the house. This lower passage cut Squarely under the park before the house and toward the school wall. No wonder my grandfather had brought foreign laborers who could speak no English to work on his house ! There was something delightful in the largeness of his scheme, and I hurried through the tunnel with a hundred questions tormenting my brain. The air grew steadily fresher, until, after I had gone about two hundred yards, I reached a point where the wind seemed to beat down on me from above. I put up my hands and found two openings about two yards apart, through which the air sucked steadily. I moved I EXPLOEE A PASSAGE 157 Out of the current with a chuckle in my throat and a grin on my face. I had passed under the gate in the school-wall, and I knew now why the piers that held it had been built so high, they were hollow and were the means of sending fresh air into the tunnel. I had traversed about twenty yards more when I felt a slight vibration accompanied by a muffled roar, and almost immediately came to a short wooden stair that marked the end of the passage. I had no means of judging directions, but I assumed I was somewhere near the chapel in the school-grounds. I climbed the steps, noting still the vibration, and found a door that yielded readily to pressure. In a moment I stood blinking, lantern in hand, in a well- lighted, floored room. Overhead the tumult and thunder of an organ explained the tremor and roar I had heard below. I was in the crypt of St. Agatha's chapel. The inside of the door by which I had entered was a part of the wainscoting of the room, and the opening was wholly covered with a map of the Holy Land. In my absorption I had lost the sense of time, and I was amazed to find that it was five o'clock, but I resolved to go into the chapel before going home. The way up was clear enough, and I was soon in the vestibule. I opened the door, expecting to find a service in progress ; but the little church was empty save where, 158 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES at the right of the chancel, an organist was filling the church with the notes of a triumphant march. Cap in hand I stole forward and sank down in one of the pews. A lamp over the organ keyboard gave the only light in the chapel, and made an aureole about her head, about the uncovered head of Olivia Gladys Armstrong ! I smiled as I recognized her and smiled, too, as I re membered her name. But the joy she brought to the music, the happiness in her face as she raised it in the minor harmonies, her isolation, marked by the little isle of light against the dark background of the choir, these things touched and moved me, and I bent forward, my arms upon the pew in front of me, watching and listening with a kind of awed wonder. Here was a refuge of peace and lulling harmony after the disturbed life at Glenarm, and I yielded myself to its solace with an inclination my life had rarely known. There was no pause in the outpouring of the melody. She changed stops and manuals with swift fingers and passed from one composition to another; now it was an august hymn, now a theme from Wagner, and finally Mendelssohn's Spring Song leaped forth exultant in the dark chapel. She ceased suddenly with a little sigh and struck Ker hands together, for the place was cold. As she I EXPLOKE A PASSAGE 159 reached up to put out the lights I stepped forward to the chancel steps. "Please allow me to do that for you ?" She turned toward me, gathering a cape about her. "Oh, it's you, is it ?" she asked, looking about quickly. "I don't remember I don't seem to remember that you were invited." "I didn't know I was coming myself/' I remarked truthfully, lifting my hand to the lamp. "That is my opinion of you, that you're a rather un expected person. But thank you, very much." She showed no disposition to prolong the interview, but hurried toward the door, and reached the vestibule before I came up with her. "You can't go any further, Mr. Glenarm," she sai