* 
 
 ^
 
 THE HOUSE OF A 
 THOUSAND CANDLES
 
 Olivia
 
 THE HOUSE OF A 
 THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 MEREDITH NICHOLSON 
 
 Author of THE MAIN CHANCE 
 ZELDA DAMERON, ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY 
 
 " So on the morn there fell new tidings and other adventures " 
 
 MiLOKT 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright 1905 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 NOVEMBER 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH A CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.
 
 spargaret Spy >teter
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER FAGS 
 
 I THE WILL OP JOHN MARSHALL, GLBNARM 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 BED TAM-O'-SHANTER 63 
 
 VI THE GIRL AND THE CANOE 80 
 
 VII THE MAN ON THE WALL 89 
 
 VIII A STRING OP 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 OP 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 DEVEREUX 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 363 
 
 XXIX AND So THE LIGHT LED ME 370
 
 THE HOUSE OF A 
 THOUSAND CANDLES
 
 THE HOUSE 
 OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE WILL OP JOHN MARSHALL GLENARM 
 
 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
 
 2 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 track 01 my wanderings and was able to hurry the 
 executor's 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. \Vhen 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, 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 MARSHALL GLENARM 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 OF 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 OP JOHN MARSHALL GLENARM 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 
 
 Kussia 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 I 
 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's 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.
 
 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; Fve 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. 
 
 "The sentiment is worthy of a good man, Glenarm/' 
 he rejoined. 
 
 "But this woman who is to succeed to my rights, I 
 don't seem to remember her." 
 
 "It is not surprising that you never heard of her." 
 
 "Then she's not a connection of the family, no long- 
 lost cousin whom I ought to remember ?"
 
 8 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 <r N"o; she was a late acquaintance of your grand 
 father's. He met her through an old friend of his, 
 Miss Evans, known as Sister Theresa. Miss Devereux 
 is Sister Theresa's niece." 
 
 I whistled. I had a dim recollection that during my 
 grandfather's long widowerhood there were occasional 
 reports that he was about to marry. The name of Miss 
 Evans had been mentioned in this connection. I had 
 heard it spoken of in my family, and not, I remembered, 
 with much kindness. Later, I heard of her joining a 
 Sisterhood, and opening a school somewhere in the 
 West. 
 
 "And Miss Devereux, is she an elderly nun, too ?" 
 
 "I don't know how elderly she is, but she isn't a nun 
 at present. Still, she's almost alone in the world, and 
 she and Sister Theresa are very intimate." 
 
 "Pass the will again, Pickering, while I make sure 
 I grasp these diverting ideas. Sister Theresa isn't the 
 one I mustn't marry, is she? It's the other ecclesias 
 tical embroidery artist, the one with the x in her 
 name, suggesting the algebra of my vanishing youth." 
 
 I read aloud this paragraph: 
 
 Provided, further, that in the event of the marriage of 
 said John Glenarm to the said Marian Devereux, or in 
 the event of any promise or contract of marriage between 
 said persons within five years from the date of said John
 
 WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLENARM 9 
 
 Glenarm's acceptance of the provisions of this will, the 
 whole estate shall become the property absolutely of St. 
 Agatha's School, at Annandale, Wabana County, Indiana, 
 a corporation under the laws of said state. 
 
 "For a touch of comedy commend me to my grand 
 father! Pickering, you always were a well-meaning 
 fellow, I'll turn over to you all my right, interest and 
 title in and to these angelic Sisters. Marry ! I like the 
 idea ! I suppose some one will try to marry me for my 
 money. Marriage, Pickering, is not embraced in my 
 scheme of life !" 
 
 "I should hardly call you a marrying man," he ob 
 served. 
 
 "Perfectly right, my friend ! Sister Theresa was con 
 sidered a possible match for my grandfather in my 
 youth. She and I are hardly contemporaries. And the 
 other lady with the fascinating algebraic climax to her 
 name, she, too, is impossible ; it seems that I can't get 
 the money by marrying her. I'd better let her take it. 
 She's as poor as the devil, I dare say." 
 
 "I imagine not. The Evanses are a wealthy family, 
 in spots, and she ought to have some money of her own 
 if her aunt doesn't coax it out of her for educational 
 schemes." 
 
 "And where on the map are these lovely creatures to 
 be found?"
 
 10 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Sister Theresa's school adjoins your preserve; Miss 
 Devereux has, I think, some of your own weakness for 
 travel. Sister Theresa is her nearest relative, and she 
 occasionally visits St. Agatha's that's the school." 
 
 "I suppose they emhroider altar-cloths together and 
 otherwise labor valiantly to bring confusion upon Satan 
 and his cohorts. Just the people to pull the wool over 
 the eyes of my grandfather !" 
 
 Pickering smiled at my resentment. 
 
 "You'd better give them a wide berth; they might 
 catch you in their net. Sister Theresa is said to have 
 quite a winning way. She certainly plucked your grand 
 father." 
 
 "Nuns in spectacles, the gentle educators of youth 
 and that sort of thing, with a good-natured old man for 
 their prey. None of them for me !" 
 
 "I rather thought so," remarked Pickering, and he 
 pulled his watch from his pocket and turned the stem 
 with his heavy fingers. He was short, thick-set and 
 sleek, with a square jaw, hair already thin and a close- 
 clipped mustache. Age, I reflected, was not improving 
 him. 
 
 I had no intention of allowing him to see that I was 
 irritated. I drew out my cigarette case and passed it 
 across the table.
 
 WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLENARM 11 
 
 "After you ! They're made quite specially for me in 
 Madrid." 
 
 "You forget that I never use tobacco in any form." 
 
 "You always did miss a good deal of the joy of liv 
 ing," I observed, throwing my smoking match into his 
 waste-paper basket, to his obvious annoyance. "Well, 
 I'm the bad boy of the story-books ; but I'm really sorry 
 my inheritance has a string tied to it. I'm about out 
 of money. I suppose you wouldn't advance me a few 
 thousands on my expectations " 
 
 "Not a cent," he declared, with quite unnecessary 
 vigor; and I laughed again, remembering that in my 
 old appraisement of him, generosity had not been rep 
 resented in large figures. "It's not in keeping with 
 your grandfather's wishes that I should do so. You 
 must have spent a good bit of money in your tiger- 
 hunting exploits," he added. 
 
 "I have spent all I had," I replied amiably. "Thank 
 God I'm not a clam! I've seen the world and paid for 
 it. I don't want anything from you. You undoubtedly 
 share my grandfather's idea of me that I'm a wild man 
 who can't sit still or lead an orderly, decent life; but 
 I'm going to give you a terrible disappointment. What's 
 the size of the estate ?" 
 
 Pickering eyed me uneasily, I thought and began
 
 12 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 playing with a pencil. I never liked Pickering's hands ; 
 they were thick and white and better kept than I like 
 to see a man's hands. 
 
 "I fear it's going to be disappointing. In his trust- 
 company boxes here I have been able to find only about 
 ten thousand dollars' worth of securities. Possibly 
 quite possibly we were all deceived in the amount of 
 his fortune. Sister Theresa wheedled large sums out of 
 him, and he spent, as you will see, a small fortune on 
 the house at Annandale without finishing it. It wasn't 
 a cheap proposition, and in its unfinished condition it is 
 practically valueless. You must know that Mr. Glenarm 
 gave away a great deal of money in his lifetime. More 
 over, he established yonr father. You know what he 
 left, it was not a small fortune as those things are 
 reckoned." 
 
 I was restless under this recital. My father's estate 
 had been of respectable size, and I had dissipated the 
 whole of it. My conscience pricked me as I recalled an 
 item of forty thousand dollars that I had spent some 
 what grandly on an expedition that I led, with con 
 siderable satisfaction to myself, at least, through the 
 Sudan. But Pickering's words amazed me. 
 
 "Let me understand you," I said, bending toward 
 him. "My grandfather was supposed to be rich, and 
 yet you tell me you find little property. Sister Theresa
 
 WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLENARM 13 
 
 got money from him to help build a school. How much 
 was that?" 
 
 "Fifty thousand dollars. It was an open account. 
 His books show the advances, but he took no notes/' 
 
 "And that claim is worth ?" 
 
 "It is good as against her individually. But she con 
 tends" 
 
 "Yes, go on !" 
 
 I had struck the right note. He was annoyed at my 
 persistence and his apparent discomfort pleased me. 
 
 "She refuses to pay. She says Mr. Glenarm made her 
 a gift of the money." 
 
 "That's possible, isn't it? He was for ever making 
 gifts to churches. Schools and theological seminaries 
 were a sort of weakness with him." 
 
 "That is quite true, but this account is among the 
 assets of the estate. It's my business as executor to col 
 lect it." 
 
 "We'll pass that. If you get this money, the estate is 
 worth sixty thousand dollars, plus the value of the land 
 out there at Annandale, and Glenarm House is worth " 
 
 "There you have me!" 
 
 It was the first lightness he had shown, and it put me 
 on guard. 
 
 "I should like an idea of its value. Even an unfin 
 ished house is worth something."
 
 14 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Land out there is worth from one hundred to one 
 hundred and fifty dollars an acre. There's an even 
 hundred acres. I'll be glad to have your appraisement 
 of the house when you get there." 
 
 "Humph ! You flatter my judgment, Pickering. The 
 loose stuff there is worth how much ?" 
 
 "It's all in the library. Your grandfather's weakness 
 was architecture " 
 
 "So I remember!" I interposed, recalling my stormy 
 interviews with John Marshall Glenarm over my choice 
 of a profession. 
 
 "In his last years he turned more and more to his 
 books. He placed out there what is, I suppose, the 
 finest collection of books relating to architecture to be 
 found in this country. That was his chief hobby, after 
 church affairs, as you may remember, and he rode it 
 hard. But he derived a great deal of satisfaction from 
 his studies." 
 
 I laughed again; it was better to laugh than to cry 
 over the situation. 
 
 "I suppose he wanted me to sit down there, sur 
 rounded by works on architecture, with the idea that 
 a study of the subject would be my only resource. The 
 scheme is eminently Glenarmian! And all I get is a 
 worthless house, a hundred acres of land, ten thousand 
 dollars, and a doubtful claim against a Protestant nun
 
 WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLENABM 15 
 
 who hoodwinked my grandfather into setting up a 
 school for her. Bless your heart, man, so far as my in 
 heritance is concerned it would have been money in my 
 pocket to have stayed in Africa." 
 
 "That's about the size of it." 
 
 "But the personal property is all mine, anything 
 that's loose on the place. Perhaps my grandfather 
 planted old plate and government bonds just to pique 
 the curiosity of his heirs, successors and assigns. It 
 would be in keeping !" 
 
 I had walked to the window and looked out across 
 the city. As I turned suddenly I found Pickering's 
 eyes bent upon me with curious intentness. I had never 
 liked his eyes; they were too steady. When a man al 
 ways meets your gaze tranquilly and readily, it is just 
 as well to be wary of him. 
 
 "Yes; no doubt you will find the place literally 
 packed with treasure," he said, and laughed. "When 
 you find anything you might wire me." 
 
 He smiled ; the idea seemed to give him pleasure. 
 
 "Are you sure there's nothing else?" I asked. "No 
 substitute, no codicil ?" 
 
 "If you know of anything of the kind it's your duty 
 to produce it. We have exhausted the possibilities. I'll 
 admit that the provisions of the will are unusual ; your 
 grandfather was a peculiar man in many respects ; but
 
 1G THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 he was thoroughly sane and his faculties were all sound 
 to the last." 
 
 "He treated me a lot better than I deserved," I said, 
 with a heartache that I had not known often in my 
 irresponsible life; but I could not afford to show feel 
 ing before Arthur Pickering. 
 
 I picked up the copy of the will and examined it. 
 It was undoubtedly authentic; it bore the certificate of 
 the clerk of Wabana County, Indiana. The witnesses 
 were Thomas Bates and Arthur Pickering. 
 
 "Who is Bates?" I asked, pointing to the man's sig 
 nature. 
 
 "One of your grandfather's discoveries. He's in 
 charge of the house out there, and a trustworthy fellow. 
 He's a fair cook, among other things. I don't know 
 where Mr. Glenarm got Bates, but he had every con 
 fidence in him. The man was with him at the end." 
 
 A picture of my grandfather dying, alone with a 
 servant, while I, his only kinsman, wandered in strange 
 lands, was not one that I could contemplate with much 
 satisfaction. My grandfather had been an odd little 
 figure of a man, who always wore a long black coat and a 
 silk hat, and carried a curious silver-headed staff, and 
 said puzzling things at which everybody was afraid either 
 to laugh or to cry. He refused to be thanked for favors,
 
 WILL OF JOHN MARSHALL GLEN ARM 17 
 
 though he was generous and helpful and constantly 
 performing kind deeds. His whimsical philanthropies 
 were often described in the newspapers. He had once 
 given a considerable sum of money to a fashionable 
 church in Boston with the express stipulation, which 
 he safeguarded legally, that if the congregation ever 
 intrusted its spiritual welfare to a minister named 
 Reginald, Harold or Claude, an amount equal to his 
 gift, with interest, should be paid to the Massachusetts 
 Humane Society. 
 
 The thought of him touched me now. I was glad to 
 feel that his money had never been a lure to me ; it did 
 not matter whether his estate was great or small, I 
 could, at least, ease my conscience by obeying the behest 
 of the old man whose name I bore, and whose interest in 
 the finer things of life and art had given him an un 
 deniable distinction. 
 
 "I should like to know something of Mr. Glenarm's 
 last days," I said abruptly. 
 
 "He wished to visit the village where he was born, 
 and Bates, his companion and servant, went to Vermont 
 with him. He died quite suddenly, and was buried be 
 side his father in the old village cemetery. I saw him 
 last early in the summer. I was away from home and 
 did not know of his death until it was all over. Bates
 
 18 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 came to report it to me, and to sign the necessary papers 
 in probating the will. It had to be done in the place of 
 the decedent's residence, and we went together to Wa- 
 bana, the seat of the county in which Annandale lies." 
 
 I was silent after this, looking out toward the sea 
 that had lured me since my earliest dreams of the world 
 that lay beyond it. 
 
 "It's a poor stake, Glenarm," remarked Pickering 
 consolingly, and I wheeled upon him. 
 
 "I suppose you think it a poor stake ! I suppose you 
 can't see anything in that old man's life beyond his 
 money ; but I don't care a curse what my inheritance is ! 
 I never obeyed any of my grandfather's wishes in his 
 lifetime, but now that he's dead his last wish is man 
 datory. I'm going out there to spend a year if I die 
 for it. Do you get my idea ?" 
 
 "Humph! You always were a stormy petrel," he 
 sneered. "I fancy it will be safer to keep our most 
 agreeable acquaintance on a strictly business basis. If 
 you accept the terms of the will " 
 
 "Of course I accept them ! Do you think I am going 
 to make a row, refuse to fulfil that old man's last wish ! 
 I gave him enough trouble in his life without disap 
 pointing him in his grave. I suppose you'd like to have 
 me fight the will ; but I'm going to disappoint you." 
 
 He said nothing, but played with his pencil. I had
 
 WILL OF JOHN MAKSHALL GLENAKM 19 
 
 never disliked him so heartily; he was so smug and 
 comfortable. His office breathed the very spirit of pros 
 perity. I wished to finish my business and get away. 
 
 "I suppose the region out there has a high death-rate. 
 How's the malaria?" 
 
 "Not alarmingly prevalent, I understand. There's a 
 summer resort over on one side of Lake Annandale. 
 The place is really supposed to be wholesome. I don't 
 believe your grandfather had homicide in mind in send 
 ing you there." 
 
 "No, he probably thought the rustication would make 
 a man of me. Must I do my own victualing ? I suppose 
 I'll be allowed to eat." 
 
 "Bates can cook for you. He'll supply the necessi 
 ties. I'll instruct him to obey your orders. I assume 
 you'll not have many guests, in fact," he studied the 
 back of his hand intently, "while that isn't stipulated, 
 I doubt whether it was your grandfather's intention 
 that you should surround yourself " 
 
 "With boisterous companions !" I supplied the words 
 in my cheerfullest tone. "No; my conduct shall be ex 
 emplary, Mr. Pickering," I added, with affable irony. 
 
 He picked up a single sheet of thin type-written 
 paper and passed it across the table. It was a formal 
 acquiescence in the provisions of the will. Pickering 
 had prepared it in advance of my coming, and this as-
 
 20 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 sumption that I would accept the terms irritated me. 
 Assumptions as to what I should do under given con 
 ditions had always irritated me, and accounted, in a 
 large measure, for my proneness to surprise and dis 
 appoint people. Pickering summoned a clerk to witness 
 my signature. 
 
 "How soon shall you take possession?" he asked. "I 
 have to make a record of that." 
 
 "I shall start for Indiana to-morrow," I answered. 
 
 "You are prompt," he replied, deliberately folding in 
 quarters the paper I had just signed. "I hoped you 
 might dine with me before going out ; but I fancy New 
 York is pretty tame after the cafes and bazaars of the 
 East" 
 
 His reference to my wanderings angered me again; 
 for here was the point at which I was most sensitive. 
 I was twenty-seven and had spent my patrimony ; I had 
 tasted the bread of many lands, and I was doomed to 
 spend a year qualifying myself for my grandfather's 
 legacy by settling down on an abandoned and lonely 
 Indiana farm that I had never seen and had no interest 
 in whatever. 
 
 As I rose to go Pickering said : 
 
 "It will be sufficient if you drop me a line, say once 
 a month, to let me know you are there. The post-office 
 is Annandale."
 
 WILL OF JOHN MAESHALL GLENAEM 21 
 
 "I suppose I might file a supply of postal cards in the 
 village and arrange for the mailing of one every 
 month." 
 
 "It might be done that way," he answered evenly. 
 
 "We may perhaps meet again, if I don't die of starv 
 ation or ennui. Good-by." 
 
 We shook hands stiffly and I left him, going down in 
 an elevator filled with eager-eyed, anxious men. I, at 
 least, had no cares of business. It made no difference 
 to me whether the market rose or fell. Something of 
 the spirit of adventure that had been my curse quick 
 ened in my heart as I walked through crowded Broad 
 way past Trinity Church to a bank and drew the bal 
 ance remaining on my letter of credit. I received in 
 currency slightly less than one thousand dollars. 
 
 As I turned from the teller's window I ran into the 
 arms of the last man in the world I expected to see. 
 
 This, let it be remembered, was in October of the 
 year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and one.
 
 A FACE AT SHERRY'S 
 
 "Don't mention my name an thou lovest me!" said 
 Laurance Donovan, and he drew me aside, ignored my 
 hand and otherwise threw into our meeting a casual 
 quality that was somewhat amazing in view of the fact 
 that we had met last at Cairo. 
 
 "Allah il Allah!" 
 
 It was undoubtedly Larry. I felt the heat of the 
 desert and heard the camel-drivers cursing and our 
 Sudanese guides plotting mischief under a window far 
 away. 
 
 "Well !" we both exclaimed interrogatively. 
 
 He rocked gently back and forth, with his hands in 
 his pockets, on the tile floor of the banking-house. I 
 had seen him stand thus once on a time when we had 
 eaten nothing in four days it was in Abyssinia, and 
 our guides had lost us in the worst possible place with 
 the same untroubled look in his eyes. 
 
 "Please don't appear surprised, or scared or any 
 thing, Jack," he said, with his delicious intonation. "I 
 
 22
 
 A FACE AT SHEEEY'S 23 
 
 saw a fellow looking for me an hour or so ago. He's 
 been at it for several months; hence my presence on 
 these shores of the brave and the free. He's probably 
 still looking, as he's a persistent devil. I'm here, as 
 we may say, quite incog. Staying at an East-side lodg 
 ing-house, where I shan't invite you to call on me. 
 But I must see you." 
 
 "Dine with me to-night, at Sherry's " 
 
 "Too big, too many people " 
 
 "Therein lies security, if you're in trouble. I'm about 
 to go into exile^ and I want to eat one more civilized 
 dinner before I go." 
 
 "Perhaps it's just as well. Where are you off for, 
 not Africa again?" 
 
 "No. Just Indiana, one of the sovereign American 
 states, as you ought to know." 
 
 "Indians?" 
 
 "No; warranted all dead." 
 
 "Pack-train balloon automobile camels, how do 
 you get there?" 
 
 "Varnished cars. It's easy. It's not the getting there ; 
 it's the not dying of ennui after you're on the spot." 
 
 "Humph ! What hour did you say for the dinner ?" 
 
 "Seven o'clock. Meet me at the entrance." 
 
 "If I'm at large! Allow me to precede you through 
 the door, and don't follow me on the street, please!"
 
 24 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAXD CAKDLES 
 
 He walked away, his gloved hands clasped lazily be 
 hind him, lounged out upon Broadway and turned 
 toward the Battery. I waited until he disappeared, then 
 took an up-town car. 
 
 My first meeting with Laurance Donovan was in Con 
 stantinople, at a cafe where I was dining. He got into 
 a row with an Englishman and knocked him down. It 
 was not my affair, but I liked the ease and definiteness 
 with which Larry put his foe out of commission. I 
 learned later that it was a way he had. The English 
 man meant well enough, but he could not, of course, 
 know the intensity of Larry's feeling about the unhappy 
 lot of Ireland. In the beginning of my own acquaint 
 ance with Donovan I sometimes argued with him, but I 
 soon learned better manners. He quite converted me to 
 his own notion of Irish affairs, and I was as hot an 
 advocate as he of head-smashing as a means of restoring 
 Ireland's lost prestige. 
 
 My friend, the American consul-general at Con 
 stantinople, was not without a sense of humor, and I 
 easily enlisted him in Larry's behalf. The Englishman 
 thirsted for vengeance and invoked all the powers. He 
 insisted, with reason, that Larry was a British subject 
 and that the American consul had no right to give him 
 asylum, a point that was, I understand, thoroughly 
 well-grounded in law and fact. Larry maintained, on
 
 A FACE AT SHEKKY'S 25 
 
 the other hand, that he was not English but Irish, and 
 that, as his country maintained no representative in 
 Turkey, it was his privilege to find refuge wherever it 
 was offered. Larry was always the most plausible of 
 human beings, and between us, he, the American con 
 sul and I, we made an impression, and got him off. 
 
 I did not realize until later that the real joke lay in 
 the fact that Larry was English-born, and that his de 
 votion to Ireland was purely sentimental and quixotic. 
 His family had, to be sure, come out of Ireland some 
 time in the dim past, and settled in England ; but when 
 Larry reached years of knowledge, if not of discretion, 
 he cut Oxford and insisted on taking his degree at 
 Dublin. He even believed, or thought he believed, 
 in banshees. He allied himself during his university 
 days with the most radical and turbulent advocates of 
 a separate national existence for Ireland, and occa 
 sionally spent a month in jail for rioting. But Larry's 
 instincts were scholarly; he made a brilliant record at 
 the University; then, at twenty-two, he came forth to 
 look at the world, and liked it exceedingly well. His 
 father was a busy man, and he had other sons; he 
 granted Larry an allowance and told him to keep away 
 from home until he got ready to be respectable. So, 
 from Constantinople, after a tour of Europe, we to 
 gether crossed the Mediterranean in search of the flesh-
 
 26 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 pots of lost kingdoms, spending three years in the pur 
 suit. We parted at Cairo on excellent terms. He re 
 turned to England and later to his beloved Ireland, for 
 he had blithely sung the wildest Gaelic songs in the 
 darkest days of our adventures, and never lost his love 
 for The Sod, as he apostrophized and capitalized his 
 adopted country. 
 
 Larry had the habit of immaculateness. He emerged 
 from his East-side lodging-house that night clothed 
 properly, and wearing the gentlemanly air of peace and 
 reserve that is so wholly incompatible with his dispo 
 sition to breed discord and indulge in riot. When we 
 sat down for a leisurely dinner at Sherry's we were not, 
 I modestly maintain, a forbidding pair. We if I may 
 drag myself into the matter are both a trifle under 
 the average height, sinewy, nervous, and, just then, 
 trained fine. Our lean, clean-shaven faces were well- 
 browned mine wearing a fresh coat from my days on 
 the steamer's deck. 
 
 Larry had never been in America before, and the 
 scene had for both of us the charm of a gay and novel 
 spectacle. I have always maintained, in talking to 
 Larry of nations and races, that the Americans are the 
 handsomest and best put-up people in the world, and I 
 believe he was persuaded of it that night as we gazed 
 with eyes long unaccustomed to splendor upon the great
 
 27 
 
 company assembled in the restaurant. The lights, the 
 music, the variety and richness of the costumes of the 
 women, the many unmistakably foreign faces, wrought 
 a welcome spell on senses inured to hardship in the 
 waste and dreary places of earth. 
 
 "Now tell me the story," I said. "Have you done 
 murder ? Is the offense treasonable ?" 
 
 "It was a tenants' row in Galway, and I smashed a 
 constable. I smashed him pretty hard, I dare say, from 
 the row they kicked up in the newspapers. I lay low 
 for a couple of weeks, caught a boat to Queenstown, and 
 here I am, waiting for a chance to get back to The Sod 
 without going in irons." 
 
 "You were certainly born to be hanged, Larry. You'd 
 better stay in America. There's more room here than 
 anywhere else, and it's not easy to kidnap a man in 
 America and carry him off." 
 
 "Possibly not ; and yet the situation isn't wholly tran 
 quil," he said, transfixing a bit of pompano with his 
 fork. "Kindly note the florid gentleman at your right 
 at the table with four he's next the lady in pink. 
 It may interest you to know that he's the British 
 consul." 
 
 "Interesting, but not important. You don't for a 
 moment suppose ' : 
 
 "That he's looking for me? Not at all. But he un-
 
 28 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 doubtedly has my name on his tablets. The detective 
 that's here following me around is pretty dull. He lost 
 me this morning while I was talking to you in the 
 bank. Later on I had the pleasure of trailing him for 
 an hour or so until he finally brought up at the British 
 consul's office. Thanks; no more of the fish. Let us 
 banish care. I wasn't born to be hanged ; and as I'm a 
 political offender, I doubt whether I can be deported if 
 they lay hands on me." 
 
 He watched the bubbles in his glass dreamily, holding 
 it up in his slim well-kept fingers. 
 
 "Tell me something of your own immediate present 
 and future/' he said. 
 
 I made the story of my Grandfather Glenarm's legacy 
 as brief as possible, for brevity was a definite law of our 
 intercourse. 
 
 "A year, you say, with nothing to do but fold your 
 hands and wait. It doesn't sound awfully attractive to 
 me. I'd rather do without the money." 
 
 "But I intend to do some work. I owe it to my grand 
 father's memory to make good, if there's any good in 
 me." 
 
 "The sentiment is worthy of you, Glenarm," he said 
 mockingly. "What do you see a ghost?" 
 
 I must have started slightly at espying suddenly 
 Arthur Pickering not twenty feet away. A party of
 
 A FACE AT SHERRY'S 29 
 
 half a dozen or more had risen, and Pickering and a 
 girl were detached from the others for a moment. 
 
 She was young, quite the youngest in the group 
 about Pickering's table. A certain girlishness of height 
 and outline may have been emphasized by her juxtapo 
 sition to Pickering's heavy figure. She was in black, 
 with white showing at neck and wrists, a somber con 
 trast to the other women of the party, who were arrayed 
 with a degree of splendor. She had dropped her fan, 
 and Pickering stooped to pick it up. In the second that 
 she waited she turned carelessly toward me, and our 
 eyes met for an instant. Very likely she was Pickering's 
 sister, and I tried to reconstruct his family, which I had 
 known in my youth ; but I could not place her. As she 
 walked out before him my eyes followed her, the erect 
 figure, free and graceful, but with a charming dignity 
 and poise, and the gold of her fair hair glinting under 
 her black toque. 
 
 Her eyes, as she turned them full upon me, were the 
 saddest, loveliest eyes I had ever seen, and even in that 
 brilliant, crowded room I felt their spell. They were 
 fixed in my memory indelibly, mournful, dreamy and 
 wistful. In my absorption I forgot Larry. 
 
 "You're taking unfair advantage," he observed quiet 
 ly. "Friends of yours ?" 
 
 "The big chap in the lead is my friend Pick-
 
 30 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 ering," I answered; and Larry turned his head slight- 
 
 iy- 
 
 "Yes, I supposed you weren't looking at the women," 
 he observed dryly. "I'm sorry I couldn't see the object 
 of your interest. Bah ! these men !" 
 
 I laughed carelessly enough, but I was already sum 
 moning from my memory the grave face of the girl in 
 black, her mournful eyes, the glint of gold in her hair. 
 Pickering was certainly finding the pleasant places in 
 this vale of tears, and I felt my heart hot against him. 
 It hurts, this seeing a man you have never liked suc 
 ceeding where you have failed ! 
 
 "Why didn't you present me? I'd like to make the 
 acquaintance of a few representative Americans, I 
 may need them to go bail for me." 
 
 "Pickering didn't see me, for one thing; and for 
 another he wouldn't go bail for you or me if he did. 
 He isn't built that way." 
 
 Larry smiled quizzically. 
 
 "You needn't explain further. The sight of the lady 
 has shaken you. She reminds me of Tennyson: 
 
 "'The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes ' 
 and the rest of it ought to be a solemn warning to you, 
 many 'drew swords and died,' and calamity followed 
 in her train. Bah! these women! I thought you were 
 past all that!"
 
 :&*>{ 
 
 She turned carelessly toward me, and our eyes met for an instant. 
 
 Page 29
 
 A FACE AT SHERRY'S 31 
 
 "I don't know why a man should be past it at twenty- 
 seven ! Besides, Pickering's friends are strangers to me. 
 But what became of that Irish colleen you used to 
 moon over? Her distinguishing feature, as I remem 
 ber her photograph, was a short upper lip. You used 
 to force her upon me frequently when we were in 
 Africa." 
 
 "Humph ! When I got back to Dublin I found that 
 she had married a brewer's son, think of it I" 
 
 "Put not your faith in a short upper lip ! Her face 
 never inspired any confidence in me." 
 
 "That will do, thank you. I'll have a bit more of that 
 mayonnaise if the waiter isn't dead. I think you said 
 your grandfather died in June. A letter advising you 
 of the fact reached you at Naples in October. Has it 
 occurred to you that there was quite an interim there ? 
 What, may I ask, was the executor doing all that time ? 
 You may be sure he was taking advantage of the oppor 
 tunity to look for the red, red gold. I suppose you 
 didn't give him a sound drubbing for not keeping the 
 cables hot with inquiries for you ?" 
 
 He eyed me in that disdain for my stupidity which 
 I have never suffered from any other man. 
 
 "Well, no; to tell the truth, I was thinking of other 
 things during the interview."
 
 32 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 <r Your grandfather should have provided a guardian 
 for you, lad. You oughtn't to be trusted with money. 
 Is that bottle empty ? Well, if that person with the fat 
 neck was your friend Pickering, I'd have a care of 
 what's coming to me. I'd be quite sure that Mr. Pick 
 ering hadn't made away with the old gentleman's 
 boodle, or that it didn't get lost on the way from him 
 to me." 
 
 "The time's running now, and I'm in for the year. 
 My grandfather was a fine old gentleman, and I treated 
 him like a dog. I'm going to do what he directs in that 
 will no matter what the size of the reward may be." 
 
 " Certainly; that's the eminently proper thing for 
 you to do. But, but keep your wits about you. If a 
 fellow with that neck can't find money where money 
 has been known to exist, it must be buried pretty deep. 
 Your grandfather was a trifle eccentric, I judge, but 
 not a fool by any manner of means. The situation ap 
 peals to my imagination, Jack. I like the idea of it, 
 the lost treasure and the whole business. Lord, what a 
 salad that is! Cheer up, comrade! You're as grim as 
 an owl !" 
 
 Whereupon we fell to talking of people and places we 
 had known in other lands. 
 
 We spent the next day together, and in the evening,
 
 A FACE AT SHERRY'S 33 
 
 at my hotel, he criticized my effects while I packed, in 
 his usual ironical vein. 
 
 "You're not going to take those things with you, I 
 hope!" He indicated the rifles and several revolvers 
 which I brought from the closet and threw upon the 
 bed. "They make me homesick for the jungle/' 
 
 He drew from its cover the heavy rifle I had used 
 last on a leopard hunt and tested its weight. 
 
 "Precious little use you'll have for this! Better let 
 me take it back to The Sod to use on the landlords. 
 I say, Jack, are we never to seek our fortunes together 
 again ? We hit it off pretty well, old man, come to think 
 of it, I don't like to lose you." 
 
 He bent over the straps of the rifle-case with unnec 
 essary care, but there was a quaver in his voice that was 
 not like Larry Donovan. 
 
 "Come with me now!" I exclaimed, wheeling upon 
 him. 
 
 "I'd rather be with you than with any other living 
 man, Jack Grlenarm, but I can't think of it. I have my 
 own troubles ; and, moreover, you've got to stick it out 
 there alone. It's part of the game the old gentleman 
 set up for you, as I understand it. Go ahead, collect 
 your fortune, and then, if I haven't been hanged in the 
 meantime, we'll join forces later. There's no chap any-
 
 34 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 where with a pleasanter knack at spending money than 
 your old friend L. D." 
 
 He grinned, and I smiled ruefully, knowing that we 
 must soon part again, for Larry was one of the few 
 men I had ever called friend, and this meeting had only 
 quickened my old affection for him. 
 
 "I suppose," he continued, "you accept as gospel 
 truth what that fellow tells you about the estate. I 
 should be a little wary if I were you. Now, I've been 
 kicking around here for a couple of weeks, dodging the 
 detectives, and incidentally reading the newspapers. 
 Perhaps you don't understand that this estate of John 
 Marshall Glenarm has been talked about a good bit." 
 
 "I didn't know it," I admitted lamely. Larry had 
 always been able to instruct me about most matters ; it 
 was wholly possible that he could speak wisely about my 
 inheritance. 
 
 "You couldn't know, when you were coming from 
 the Mediterranean on a steamer. But the house out 
 there and the mysterious disappearance of the property 
 have been duly discussed. You're evidently an object 
 of some public interest," and he drew from his pocket 
 a newspaper cutting. "Here's a sample item." He read : 
 
 "John Glenarm, the grandson of John Marshall Glen- 
 arm, the eccentric millionaire who died suddenly in Ver 
 mont last summer, arrived on the Maxinkuckee from Na-
 
 A FACE AT SHERRY'S 35 
 
 pies yesterday. Under the terms of his grandfather's 
 will, Glenarm is required to reside for a year at a curious 
 house established by John Marshall Glenarm near Lake 
 Annandale, Indiana. 
 
 This provision was made, according to friends of the 
 family, to test young Glenarm's staying qualities, as he 
 has, since his graduation from the Massachusetts Insti 
 tute of Technology five years ago, distributed a considera 
 ble fortune left him by his father in contemplating the 
 wonders of the old world, it is reported " 
 
 "That will do! Signs and wonders I have certainly 
 beheld, and if I spent the money I submit that I got 
 my money back." 
 
 I paid my bill and took a hansom for the ferry, 
 Larry with me, chaffing away drolly with his old zest. 
 He crossed with me, and as the boat drew out into the 
 river a silence fell upon us, the silence that is possible 
 only between old friends. As I looked back at the lights 
 of the city, something beyond the sorrow at parting 
 from a comrade touched me. A sense of foreboding, of 
 coming danger, crept into my heart. But I was going 
 upon the tamest possible excursion; for the first time 
 in my life I was submitting to the direction of another, 
 albeit one who lay in the grave. How like my grand 
 father it was, to die leaving this compulsion upon me ! 
 My mood changed suddenly, and as the boat bumped at 
 the pier I laughed.
 
 36 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Bah ! these men !" ejaculated Larry. 
 
 "What men?" I demanded, giving my bags to a 
 porter. 
 
 "These men who are in love/' he said. "I know the 
 signs, mooning, silence, sudden inexplicable laughter ! 
 I hope I'll not be in jail when you're married." 
 
 "You'll be in a long time if they hold you for that. 
 Here's my train." 
 
 We talked of old times, and of future meetings, dur 
 ing the few minutes that remained. 
 
 "You can write me at my place of rustication," I 
 said, scribbling "Annandale, Wabana County, Indiana," 
 on a card. "Now if you need me at any time I'll come 
 to you wherever you are. You understand that, old man. 
 Good-by." 
 
 "Write me, care of my father he'll have my address, 
 though this last row of mine made him pretty hot." 
 
 I passed through the gate and down the long train 
 to my sleeper. Turning, with my foot on the step, I 
 waved a farewell to Larry, who stood outside watch 
 ing me. 
 
 In a moment the heavy train was moving slowly out 
 into the night upon its westward journey.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 Annandale derives its chief importance from the fact 
 that two railway lines intersect there. The Chicago 
 Express paused only for a moment while the porter de 
 posited my things beside me on the platform. Light 
 streamed from the open door of the station; a few 
 idlers paced the platform, staring into the windows of 
 the cars; the village hackman languidly solicited my 
 business. Suddenly out of the shadows came a tall, 
 curious figure of a man clad in a long ulster. As I 
 write, it is with a quickening of the sensation I received 
 on the occasion of my first meeting with Bates. His 
 lank gloomy figure rises before me now, and I hear his 
 deep melancholy voice, as, touching his hat respect 
 fully, he said : 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir; is this Mr. Glenarm? I am Bates 
 from Glenarm House. Mr. Pickering wired me to meet 
 you, sir." 
 
 "Yes ; to be sure," I said. 
 
 The hackman was already gathering up my traps, 
 and I gave him my trunk-checks. 
 
 37
 
 38 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "How far is it ?" I asked, my eyes resting, a little re 
 gretfully, I must confess, on the rear lights of the van 
 ishing train. 
 
 "Two miles, sir/* Bates replied. "There's no way 
 over but the hack in winter. In summer the steamer 
 comes right into our dock." 
 
 "My legs need stretching; I'll walk," I suggested, 
 drawing the cool air into my lungs. It was a still, starry 
 October night, and its freshness was grateful after the 
 hot sleeper. Bates accepted the suggestion without 
 comment. We walked to the end of the platform, where 
 the hackman was already tumbling my trunks about, 
 and after we had seen them piled upon his nondescript 
 wagon, I followed Bates down through the broad quiet 
 street of the village. There was more of Annandale 
 than I had imagined, and several tall smoke-stacks 
 loomed here and there in the thin starlight. 
 
 "Brick-yards, sir," said Bates, waving his hand at 
 the stacks. "It's a considerable center for that kind of 
 business." 
 
 "Bricks without straw?" I asked, as we passed a 
 radiant saloon that blazed upon the board walk. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, but such places are the ruin of 
 men," on which remark I based a mental note that 
 Bates wished to impress me with his own rectitude. 
 
 He swung along beside me, answering questions with
 
 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 39 
 f 
 
 dogged brevity. Clearly, here was a man who had re 
 duced human intercourse to a basis of necessity. I was 
 to be shut up with him for a year, and he was not likely 
 to prove a cheerful jailer. My feet struck upon a grav 
 eled highway at the end of the village street, and I 
 heard suddenly the lapping of water. 
 
 "It's the lake, sir. This road leads right out to the 
 house," Bates explained. 
 
 I was doomed to meditate pretty steadily, I imagined, 
 on the beauty of the landscape in these parts, and I 
 was rejoiced to know that it was not all cheerless prairie 
 or gloomy woodland. The wind freshened and blew 
 sharply upon us off the water. 
 
 "The fishing's quite good in season. Mr. Glenarm 
 used to take great pleasure in it. Bass, yes, sir. Mr. 
 Glenarm held there was nothing quite equal to a black 
 bass.'\ 
 
 I liked the way the fellow spoke of my grandfather. 
 He was evidently a loyal retainer. No doubt he could 
 summon from the past many pictures of my grand 
 father, and I determined to encourage his confidence. 
 
 Any resentment I felt on first hearing the terms of 
 my grandfather's will had passed. He had treated me 
 as well as I deserved, and the least I could do was to 
 accept the penalty he had laid upon me in a sane and 
 amiable spirit. This train of thought occupied me as
 
 40 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 we tramped along the highway. The road now led away 
 from the lake and through a heavy wood. Presently, on 
 the right loomed a dark barrier, and I put out my hand 
 and touched a wall of rough stone that rose to a height 
 of about eight feet. 
 
 "What is this. Bates?" I asked. 
 
 "This is Glenarm land., sir. The wall was one of 
 your grandfather's ideas. It's a quarter of a mile long 
 and cost him a pretty penny, I warrant you. The road 
 turns off from the lake now, but the Glenarm property 
 is all lake front." 
 
 So there was a wall about my prison house ! I grinned 
 cheerfully to myself. "When, a few moments later, my 
 guide paused at an arched gateway in the long wall, 
 drew from his overcoat a bunch of keys and fumbled at 
 the lock of an iron gate, I felt the spirit of adventure 
 quicken within me. 
 
 The gate clicked behind us and Bates found a lantern 
 and lighted it with the ease of custom. 
 
 "I use this gate because it's nearer. The regular en 
 trance is farther down the road. Keep close, sir, as the 
 timber isn't much cleared." 
 
 The undergrowth was indeed heavy, and I followed 
 the lantern of my guide with difficulty. In the darkness 
 the place seemed as wild and rough as a tropical wil 
 derness.
 
 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 41 
 
 "Only a little farther," rose Bates' voice ahead of 
 me; and then: "There's the light, sir," and, lifting 
 my eyes, as I stumbled over the roots of a great tree, I 
 saw for the first time the dark outlines of Glenarm 
 House. 
 
 "Here we are, sir!" exclaimed Bates, stamping his 
 feet upon a walk. I followed him to what I assumed to 
 be the front door of the house, where a lamp shone 
 brightly at either side of a massive entrance. Bates 
 flung it open without ado, and I stepped quickly into 
 a great hall that was lighted dimly by candles fastened 
 into brackets on the walls. 
 
 "I hope you've not expected too much, Mr. Glenarm," 
 said Bates, with a tone of mild apology. "It's very in 
 complete for living purposes." 
 
 "Well, we've got to make the best of it," I answered, 
 though without much cheer. The sound of our steps 
 reverberated and echoed in the well of a great staircase. 
 There was not, as far as I could see, a single article of 
 furniture in the place. 
 
 "Here's something you'll like better, sir," and Bates 
 paused far down the hall and opened a door. 
 
 A single candle made a little pool of light in what I 
 felt to be a large room. I was prepared for a disclosure 
 'of. barren ugliness, and waited, in heartsick foreboding, 
 'for^the silent guide to reveal a dreary prison.
 
 42 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Please sit here, sir," said Bates, "while I make a 
 better light." 
 
 He moved through the dark room with perfect ease, 
 struck a match, lighted a taper and went swiftly and 
 softly about. He touched the taper to one candle after 
 another, they seemed to be everywhere, and won 
 from the dark a faint twilight, that yielded slowly to a 
 growing mellow splendor of light. I have often watched 
 the acolytes in dim cathedrals of the Old World set 
 countless candles ablaze on magnificent altars, always 
 with awe for the beauty of the spectacle; but in this 
 unknown house the austere serving-man summoned 
 from the shadows a lovelier and more bewildering en 
 chantment. Youth alone, of beautiful things, is lovelier 
 than light. 
 
 The lines of the walls receded as the light increased, 
 and the raftered ceiling drew away, luring the eyes up 
 ward. I rose with a smothered exclamation on my lips 
 and stared about, snatching off my hat in reverence as 
 the spirit of the place wove its spell about me. Every 
 where there were books; they covered the walls to the 
 ceiling, with only long French windows and an enor 
 mous fireplace breaking the line. Above the fireplace a 
 massive dark oak chimney-breast further emphasized 
 the grand scale of the room. From every conceivable 
 place from shelves built for the purpose, from brackets
 
 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 43 
 
 that thrust out long arms among the books, from a 
 great crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling, and 
 from the breast of the chimney innumerable candles 
 blazed with dazzling brilliancy. I exclaimed in wonder- 
 and pleasure as Bates paused, his sorcerer's wand in 
 hand. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm was very fond of candle-light; he 
 liked to gather up candlesticks, and his collection is 
 very fine. He called his place 'The House of a Thou 
 sand Candles/ There's only about a hundred here; 
 but it was one of his conceits that when the house was 
 finished there would be a thousand lights. He had quite 
 a joking way, your grandfather. It suited his humor 
 to call it a thousand. He enjoyed his own pleasantries, 
 sir." 
 
 "I fancy he did," I replied, staring in bewilderment. 
 
 "Oil lamps might be more suited to your own taste, 
 sir. But your grandfather would not have them. Old 
 brass and copper were specialties with him, and he had 
 a particular taste, Mr. Glenarm had, in glass candle 
 sticks. He held that the crystal was most effective of 
 all. I'll go and let in the baggageman and then serve 
 you some supper." 
 
 He went somberly out and I examined the room with 
 amazed and delighted eyes. It was fifty feet long and 
 half as wide. The hard-wood floor was covered with
 
 44 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 handsome rugs; every piece of furniture was quaint or 
 interesting. Carved in the heavy oak paneling above 
 the fireplace, in large Old English letters, was the in 
 scription : 
 
 Jtyirtf of QJlan is f0e embfe of iQt fcorb 
 
 and on either side great candelabra sent long arms 
 across the hearth. All the books seemed related to archi 
 tecture; German and French works stood side by side 
 among those by English and American authorities. I 
 found archeology represented in a division where all 
 the titles were Latin or Italian. I opened several cab 
 inets that contained sketches and drawings, all in care 
 ful order; and in another I found an elaborate card 
 catalogue, evidently the work of a practised hand. The 
 minute examination was too much for me; I threw 
 myself into a great chair that might have been spoil 
 from a cathedral, satisfied to enjoy the general effect. 
 To find an apartment so handsome and so marked by 
 good taste in the midst of an Indiana wood, staggered 
 me. To be sure, in approaching the house I had seen 
 only a dark bulk that conveyed no sense of its char 
 acter or proportions; and certainly the entrance hall 
 had not prepared me for the beauty of this room. I was 
 so lost in contemplation that I did not hear a door open
 
 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 45 
 
 behind me. The respectful, mournful voice of Bates 
 announced : 
 
 "There's a bite ready for you, sir." 
 
 I followed him through the hall to a small high- 
 wainscoted room where a table was simply set. 
 
 "This is what Mr. Glenarm called the refectory. The 
 dining-room, on the other side of the house, is unfin 
 ished. He took his own meals here. The library was the 
 main thing with him. He never lived to finish the house, 
 more's the pity, sir. He would have made something 
 very handsome of it if he'd had a few years more. But 
 he hoped, sir, that you'd see it completed. It was his 
 wish, sir." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure," I replied. 
 
 He brought cold fowl and a salad, and produced a 
 bit of Stilton of unmistakable authenticity. 
 
 "I trust the ale is cooled to your liking. It's your 
 grandfather's favorite, if I may say it, sir." 
 
 I liked the fellow's humility. He served me with a 
 grave deference and an accustomed hand. Candles in 
 crystal holders shed an agreeable light upon the table; 
 the room was snug and comfortable, and hickory logs 
 in a small fireplace crackled cheerily. If my grand 
 father had designed to punish me, with loneliness as 
 his weapon, his shade, if it lurked near, must have 
 been grievously disappointed. I had long been inured
 
 46 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 to my own society. I had often eaten my bread alone, 
 and I found a pleasure in the quiet of the strange un 
 known house. There stole over me, too, the satisfaction 
 that I was at last obeying a wish of my grandfather's, 
 that I was doing something he would have me do. I 
 was touched by the traces everywhere of his interest 
 in what was to him the art of arts; there was some 
 thing quite fine in his devotion to it. The little refec 
 tory had its air of distinction, though it was without 
 decoration. There had been^ we always said in the 
 family, something whimsical or even morbid in my 
 grandsire's devotion to architecture; but I felt that it 
 had really appealed to something dignified and noble 
 in his own mind and character, and a gentler mood 
 than I had known in years possessed my heart. He had 
 asked little of me, and I determined that in that little 
 I would not fail. 
 
 Bates gave me my coffee, put matches within reach 
 and left the room. I drew out my cigarette case and 
 was holding it half-opened, when the glass in the win 
 dow back of me cracked sharply, a bullet whistled over 
 my head, struck the opposite wall and fell, flattened 
 and marred, on the table under my hand.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE LAKE 
 
 I ran to the window and peered out into the night. 
 The wood through which we had approached the house 
 seemed to encompass it. The branches of a great tree 
 brushed the panes. I was tugging at the fastening of 
 the window when I became aware of Bates at my elbow. 
 
 "Did something happen, sir?" 
 
 His unbroken calm angered me. Some one had fired 
 at me through a window and I had narrowly escaped 
 being shot. I resented the unconcern with which this 
 servant accepted the situation. 
 
 "Nothing worth mentioning. Somebody tried to as 
 sassinate me, that's all," I said, in a voice that failed 
 to be calmly ironical. I was still fumbling at the catch 
 of the window. 
 
 "Allow me, sir," and he threw up the sash with an 
 ease that increased my irritation. 
 
 I leaned out and tried to find some clue to my as 
 sailant. Bates opened another window and surveyed the 
 dark landscape with me. 
 
 47
 
 48 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Ik was a shot from without, was it, sir ?" 
 
 "Of course it was; you didn't suppose I shot at my 
 self, did you?" 
 
 He examined the broken pane and picked up the bul 
 let from the table. 
 
 "It's a rifle-ball, I should say." 
 
 The bullet was half-flattened by its contact with the 
 wall. It was a cartridge ball of large caliber and might 
 have been fired from either rifle or pistol. 
 
 "It's very unusual, sir !" I wheeled upon him angrily 
 and found him fumbling with the bit of metal, a 
 troubled look in his face. He at once continued, as 
 though anxious to allay my fears. "Quite accidental, 
 most likely. Probably boys on the lake are shooting at 
 ducks/' 
 
 I laughed out so suddenly that Bates started back in 
 alarm. 
 
 "You idiot !" I roared, seizing him by the collar with 
 both hands and shaking him fiercely. "You fool ! Do the 
 people around here shoot ducks at night? Do they 
 shoot water-fowl with elephant guns and fire at people 
 through windows just for fun ?" 
 
 I threw him back against the table so that it leaped 
 away from him, and he fell prone on the floor. 
 
 "Get up !" I commanded, "and fetch a lantern." 
 
 He said nothing, but did as I bade him. We traversed
 
 A VOICE FEOM THE LAKE 49 
 
 the long cheerless hall to the front door, and I sent him 
 before me into the woodland. My notions of the geog 
 raphy of the region were the vaguest, but I wished to 
 examine for myself the premises that evidently con 
 tained a dangerous prowler. I was very angry and my 
 rage increased as I followed Bates, who had suddenly 
 retired within himself. We stood soon beneath the 
 lights of the refectory window. 
 
 The ground was covered with leaves which broke 
 crisply under our feet. 
 
 "What lies beyond here?" I demanded. 
 
 "About a quarter of mile of woods, sir, and then the 
 lake." 
 
 "Go ahead," I ordered, "straight to the lake." 
 
 I was soon stumbling through rough underbrush sim 
 ilar to that through which we had approached the house. 
 Bates swung along confidently enough ahead of me, 
 pausing occasionally to hold back the branches. I began 
 to feel, as my rage abated, that I had set out on a foolish 
 undertaking. I was utterly at sea as to the character of 
 the grounds; I was following a man whom I had not 
 seen until two hours before, and whom I began to sus 
 pect of all manner of designs upon me. It was wholly 
 unlikely that the person who had fired into the windows 
 would lurk about, and, moreover, the light of the lan 
 tern, the crack of the leaves and the breaking of the
 
 50 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 boughs advertised our approach loudly. I am, however, 
 a person given to steadfastness in error, if nothing else, 
 and I plunged along behind my guide with a grim de 
 termination to reach the margin of the lake, if for no 
 other reason than to exercise my authority over the 
 custodian of this strange estate. 
 
 A bush slapped me sharply and I stopped to rub the 
 sting from my face. 
 
 "Are you hurt, sir?" asked Bates solicitously, turn 
 ing with the lantern. 
 
 "Of course not," I snapped. "I'm having the time 
 of my life. Are there no paths in this jungle ?" 
 
 "Not through here, sir. It was Mr. Glenarm's idea 
 not to disturb the wood at all. He was very fond of 
 walking through the timber." 
 
 "Not at night, I hope ! Where are we now ?" 
 
 "Quite near the lake, sir." 
 
 "Then go on." 
 
 I was out of patience with Bates, with the pathless 
 woodland, and, I must confess, with the spirit of John 
 Marshall Glenarm, my grandfather. 
 
 We came out presently upon a gravelly beach, and 
 Bates stamped suddenly on planking. 
 
 "This is the Glenarm dock, sir; and that's the boat- 
 house."
 
 A VOICE FKOM THE LAKE 51 
 
 He waved his lantern toward a low structure that rose 
 dark beside us. As we stood silent, peering out into the 
 starlight, I heard distinctly the dip of a paddle and the 
 soft gliding motion of a canoe. 
 
 "It's a boat, sir," whispered Bates, hiding the lantern 
 under his coat. 
 
 I brushed past him and crept to the end of the dock. 
 The paddle dipped on silently and evenly in the still 
 water, but the sound grew fainter. A canoe is the most 
 graceful, the most sensitive, the most inexplicable con 
 trivance of man. With its paddle you may dip up stars 
 along quiet shores or steal into the very harbor of 
 dreams. I knew that furtive splash instantly, and knew 
 that a trained hand wielded the paddle. My boyhood 
 summers in the Maine woods were not, I frequently 
 find, wholly wasted. 
 
 The owner of the canoe had evidently stolen close to 
 the Glenarm dock, and had made off when alarmed by 
 the noise of our approach through the wood. 
 
 "Have you a boat here ?" 
 
 "The boat-house is locked and I haven't the key with 
 me, sir," he replied without excitement. 
 
 "Of course you haven't it," I snapped, full of anger 
 at his tone of irreproachable respect, and at my own 
 helplessness. I had not even seen th,e place by daylight,
 
 52 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 and the woodland behind me and the lake at my feet 
 \vere things of shadow and mystery. In my rage I 
 stamped my foot. 
 
 "Lead the way back/' I roared. 
 
 I had turned toward the woodland when suddenly 
 there stole across the water a voice, a woman's voice, 
 deep, musical and deliberate. 
 
 "Eeally, I shouldn't be so angry if I were you!" it 
 said, with a lingering note on the word angry. 
 
 "Who are you ? What are you doing there ?" I bawled. 
 
 "Just enjoying a little tranquil thought !" was the 
 drawling, mocking reply. 
 
 Far out upon the water I heard the dip and glide of 
 the canoe, and saw faintly its outline for a moment; 
 then it was gone. The lake, the surrounding wood, were 
 an unknown world, the canoe, a boat of dreams. Then 
 again came the voice : 
 
 "Good night, merry gentlemen!" 
 
 "It was a lady, sir," remarked Bates, after we had 
 waited silently for a full minute. 
 
 "How clever you are!" I sneered. "I suppose ladies 
 prowl about here at night, shooting ducks or into peo 
 ple's houses." 
 
 "It would seem quite likely, sir." 
 
 I should have liked to cast him into the lake, but he 
 was already moving away, the lantern swinging at his
 
 A VOICE FROM THE LAKE 53 
 
 side. I followed him, back through the woodland to the 
 house. 
 
 My spirits quickly responded to the cheering in 
 fluence of the great library. I stirred the fire on the 
 hearth into life and sat down before it, tired from my 
 tramp. I was mystified and perplexed by the incident 
 that had already marked my coming. It was possible, 
 to be sure, that the bullet which narrowly missed my 
 head in the little dining-room had been a wild shot that 
 carried no evil intent, I dismissed at once the idea that 
 it might have been fired from the lake; it had crashed 
 through the glass with too much force to have come so 
 far; and, moreover, I could hardly imagine even a rifle- 
 ball's finding an unimpeded right of way through so 
 dense a strip of wood. I found it difficult to get rid of 
 the idea that some one had taken a pot-shot at me. 
 
 The woman's mocking voice from the lake added to 
 my perplexity. It was not, I reflected, such a voice as 
 one might expect to hear from a country girl ; nor could 
 I imagine any errand that would excuse a woman's 
 presence abroad on an October night whose cool air in 
 spired first confidences with fire and lamp. There was 
 something haunting in that last cry across the water; 
 it kept repeating itself over and over in my ears. It 
 was a voice of quality, of breeding and charm. 
 
 "Good night, merry gentlemen !"
 
 54 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 In Indiana, I reflected, rustics, young or old, men or 
 women, were probably not greatly given to salutations 
 of just this temper. 
 
 Bates now appeared. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir; but your room's ready whenever 
 you wish to retire." 
 
 I looked about in search of a clock. 
 
 "There are no timepieces in the house, Mr. Glenarm. 
 Your grandfather was quite opposed to them. He had 
 a theory, sir, that they were conducive, as he said, to 
 idleness. He considered that a man should work by his 
 conscience, sir, and not by the clock, the one being 
 more exacting than the other/' 
 
 I smiled as I drew out my watch, as much at Bates' 
 solemn tones and grim lean visage as at his quotation 
 from my grandsire. But the fellow puzzled and an- 
 no}*ed me. His unobtrusive black clothes, his smoothly- 
 brushed hair, his shaven face, awakened an antagonism 
 in me. 
 
 "Bates, if you didn't fire that shot through the win 
 dow, who did will you answer me that?" 
 
 "Yes, sir ; if I didn't do it, it's quite a large question 
 who did. I'll grant you that, sir." 
 
 I stared at him. He met my gaze directly without 
 flinching; nor was there anything insolent in his tone 
 or attitude. He continued:
 
 A VOICE FEOM THE LAKE 55 
 
 "I didn't do it, sir. I was in the pantry when I heard 
 the crash in the refectory window. The bullet came 
 from out of doors, as I should judge, sir." 
 
 The facts and conclusions were undoubtedly with 
 Bates, and I felt that I had not acquitted myself credit 
 ably in my effort to fix the crime on him. My abuse of 
 him had been tactless, to say the least, and I now tried 
 another line of attack. 
 
 "Of course, Bates, I was merely joking. What's your 
 own theory of the matter ?" 
 
 "I have no theory, sir. Mr. Glenarm always warned 
 me against theories. He said if you will pardon me 
 there was great danger in the speculative mind." 
 
 The man spoke with a slight Irish accent, which in 
 itself puzzled me. I have always been attentive to the 
 peculiarities of speech, and his was not the brogue of 
 the Irish servant class. Larry Donovan, who was Eng 
 lish-born, used on occasions an exaggerated Irish dialect 
 that was wholly different from the smooth liquid tones of 
 Bates. But more things than his speech were to puzzle 
 me in this man. 
 
 "The person in the canoe? How do you account for 
 her?" I asked. 
 
 "I haven't accounted for her, sir. There's no women 
 on these grounds, or any sort of person except our 
 selves."
 
 5G THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "But there are neighbors, farmers, people of some 
 kind must live along the lake." 
 
 "A few, sir; and then there's the school quite a bit 
 beyond your own west wall." 
 
 His slight reference to my proprietorship, my own 
 wall, as he put it, pleased me. 
 
 ''Oh, yes; there is a school girls? yes; Mr. Pick 
 ering mentioned it. But the girls hardly paddle on the 
 lake at night, at this season hunting ducks should 
 you say, Bates ?" 
 
 "I don't believe they do any shooting, Mr. Glenarm. 
 It's a pretty strict school, I judge, sir, from all ac 
 counts." 
 
 "And the teachers they are all women?" 
 
 "They're the Sisters of St. Agatha, I believe they call 
 them. I sometimes see them walking abroad. They're 
 very quiet neighbors, and they go away in the summer 
 usually, except Sister Theresa. The school's her regular 
 home, sir. And there's the little chapel quite near the 
 wall ; the young minister lives there ; and the gardener's 
 the only other man on the grounds." 
 
 So my immediate neighbors were Protestant nuns 
 and school-girls, with a chaplain and gardener thrown 
 in for variety. Still, the chaplain might be a social re 
 source. There was nothing in the terms of my grand 
 father's will to prevent my cultivating the acquaintance
 
 A VOICE FKOM THE LAKE 57 
 
 of a clergyman. It even occurred to me that this might 
 be a part of the game : my soul was to be watched over 
 by a rural priest, while, there being nothing else to do, 
 I was to give my attention to the study of architecture. 
 Bates, my guard and housekeeper, was brushing the 
 hearth with deliberate care. 
 
 "Show me my cell/' I said, rising, "and I'll go to 
 bed." 
 
 He brought from somewhere a great brass cande 
 labrum that held a dozen lights, and explained: 
 
 "This was Mr. Glenarm's habit. He always used this 
 one to go to bed with. I'm sure he'd wish you to have 
 it, sir." 
 
 I thought I detected something like a quaver in the 
 man's voice. My grandfather's memory was dear to him, 
 I reflected, and I was moved to compassion for him. 
 
 "How long were you with Mr. Glenarm, Bates?" I 
 inquired, as I followed him into the hall. 
 
 "Five years, sir. He employed me the year you went 
 abroad. I remember very well his speaking of it. He 
 greatly admired you, sir." 
 
 He led the way, holding the cluster of lights high for 
 my guidance up the broad stairway. 
 
 The hall above shared the generous lines of the whole 
 house, but the walls were white and hard to the eye. 
 Bough planks had been laid down for a floor, and be-
 
 58 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 yond the light of the candles lay a dark region that gave 
 out ghostly echoes as the loose boards rattled under our 
 feet. 
 
 "I hope you'll not be too much disappointed, sir," 
 said Bates, pausing a moment before opening a door. 
 "It's all quite unfinished, but comfortable, I should say, 
 quite comfortable." 
 
 "Open the door!" 
 
 He was not my host and I did not relish his apology. 
 I walked past him into a small sitting-room that was, 
 in a way, a miniature of the great library below. Open 
 shelves filled with books lined the apartment to the 
 ceiling on every hand, save where a small fireplace, a 
 cabinet and table were built into the walls. In the 
 center of the room was a long table with writing ma 
 terials set in nice order. I opened a handsome case and 
 found that it contained a set of draftsman's instru 
 ments. 
 
 I groaned aloud. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm preferred this room for working. The 
 tools were his very own, sir." 
 
 "The devil they were!" I exclaimed irascibly. I 
 snatched a book from the nearest shelf and threw it 
 open on the table. It was The Tower: Its Early Use 
 for Purposes of Defense. London: 1816.
 
 A VOICE 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 
 no 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 " 
 
 "Thaf s all ; and Bates"
 
 60 THE HOUSE OP 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 FROM 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 
 to 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 ahle 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.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 
 
 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 f arther, 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 
 to 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'-SHANTER 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
 
 G6 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. 
 
 "Fll 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 
 him. 
 
 "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 EED 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." 
 "I'm sorry for that. I'd 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 I've just come." 
 "I thought you might be him. We've rather been ex 
 pecting you here in the village. I'm 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
 
 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 I'll 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 EED 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 to 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 Republic, 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 opportunity 
 to present his message." 
 
 She smiled, nodded and turned swiftly toward 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 with a 
 pair of shoulders that gave me a twinge of envy. I could 
 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 RED TAM-O'-SHANTER 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 CANOE 
 
 "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," I 
 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 GIRL 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. 
 
 "Eeally, 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
 
 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 I" 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 CAXDLES 
 
 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 GIRL 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 
 clearty 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 but 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 Mar die 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 satisf}* 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 
 
 unchivalrous 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 when
 
 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
 
 99 
 
 lied, 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 heen 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
 
 1 
 
 Like a flash he swung the hammer, and at the same moment I fired. 
 
 Page IOO
 
 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, but 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?" 
 
 "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- OF 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. That'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 
 Glenarm 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 STRING OP 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 as 
 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 top. 
 
 "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 from
 
 A STRING 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 I'd 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 CAXDLES 
 
 and, I'm afraid/' he chuckled with evident satisfac 
 tion to himself, "I'm 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 Fm here under a 
 flag of truce, and let's see if we can't come to an agree 
 ment." 
 
 "It'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 the
 
 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 length 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 OF 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 still 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.
 
 CHAPTEE 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 
 
 fife of eJofln (S*ar00aff (Bftnatm 
 was a fesftmong to f$e trirfue of 
 
 forSearcmce emo genffeneaa 
 fieatififuf flings 0e 
 tere not noSfer f#cm 0ts otxm 
 f)te grcmteon (<3o Bemfc 0tm if?) 
 9tifes f 3ts of 0tm 
 
 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 
 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 Devereux !" 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 GIKL AND THE BABBIT 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 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. "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 their 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 GIEL AND THE EABBIT 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 fall 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 GIKL 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 
 I'm sincere and humble, and anxious to be forgiven." 
 
 "You seem to be making a good deal of a small mat 
 ter"
 
 122 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "I wasn't referring to the overshoe !" 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 GIRL AND THE RABBIT 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 loafmg-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. 
 
 "I'd 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."
 
 
 She marched before me, her hands in her pockets. Page I2J
 
 THE GIRL AND THE RABBIT 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 OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 as the flower of the Middle West, and made us really 
 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 I 
 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 retorted.
 
 THE GIKL AND THE EABBIT 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 !" 
 
 "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 !" 
 
 "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.
 
 CHAPTER 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 
 a 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 little 
 sketch, I was strangely impelled to study it seriously. 
 
 I drew for myself rough outlines of the interior of 
 Glenarm 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 tormentingly.
 
 132 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 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 OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 me and he dropped the lantern and hammer to his side, 
 and swore under his hreath 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 }"our 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
 
 AN AFFAIR WITH THE CARETAKER 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 about 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 OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "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 his 
 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
 
 AN 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 
 looking 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 EECEIVE 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 CAXDLES 
 
 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? I'll put 
 my hand on them if you will kindly tell me where 
 they're kept."
 
 I EECEIVE A CALLER 145 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, I fear very much that they have been 
 destroyed. I tried to find them before you came, to tell 
 3 r ou 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 may 
 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 his 
 heart upon having you enjoy it " 
 
 "I like the word go ahead."
 
 "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 KECEIVE A CALLER 147 
 
 "The Reverend 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 Glenarm 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 Reverend 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." 
 
 "You 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 EECEIVE A CALLER 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 
 he 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 Eeverend 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 RECEIVE A CALLER 151 
 
 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.
 
 CHAPTEE 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 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. 
 
 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 several 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 
 her hands together, for the place was cold. As she
 
 I EXPLORE 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 said, 
 and waited as though to make sure I understood. 
 Straight before us through the wood and beyond the 
 school-buildings the sunset faded sullenly. The night 
 was following fast upon the gray twilight and already 
 the bolder planets were aflame in the sky. The path 
 led straight ahead beneath the black boughs. 
 
 "I might perhaps walk to the dormitory, or whatever 
 you call it," I said. 
 
 "Thank you, no! I'm late and haven't time to 
 bother with you. It's against the rules, you know, for 
 us to receive visitors."
 
 160 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 She stepped out into the path. 
 
 "But I'm not a caller. I'm just a neighbor. And I 
 owe you several calls, anyhow." 
 
 She laughed, but did not pause, and I followed a 
 pace behind her. 
 
 "I hope you don't think for a minute that I chased 
 a rabbit on your side of the fence just to meet you ; do 
 you, Mr. Glenarm?" 
 
 "Be it far from me ! I'm glad I came, though, for I 
 liked your music immensely. Fm in earnest; I think 
 it quite wonderful, Miss Armstrong." 
 
 She paid no heed to me. 
 
 "And I hope I may promise myself the pleasure of 
 hearing you often." 
 
 "You are positively flattering, Mr. Glenarm; but as 
 I'm going away " 
 
 I felt my heart sink at the thought of her going 
 away. She was the only amusing person I had met at 
 Glenarm, and the idea of losing her gave a darker note 
 to the bleak landscape. 
 
 "That's really too bad ! And just when we were get 
 ting acquainted ! And I was coming to church every 
 Sunday to hear you play and to pray for snow, so you'd 
 come over often to chase rabbits !" 
 
 This, I thought, softened her heart. At any rate her 
 tone changed.
 
 I EXPLOEE A PASSAGE 161 
 
 "I don't play for services; they're afraid to let me 
 for fear I'd run comic-opera tunes into the Te Deum !" 
 
 "How shocking!" 
 
 "Do you know, Mr. Glenarm," her tone became con 
 fidential and her pace slackened, "we call you the 
 squire, at St. Agatha's, and the lord of the manor, and 
 names like that ! All the girls are perfectly crazy about 
 you. They'd be wild if they thought I talked with you, 
 clandestinely, is that the way you pronounce it?" 
 
 "Anything you say and any way you say it satisfies 
 me," I replied. 
 
 "That's ever so nice of you," she said, mockingly 
 again. 
 
 I felt foolish and guilty. She would probably get 
 roundly scolded if the grave Sisters learned of her talks 
 with me, and very likely I should win their hearty con 
 tempt. But I did not turn back. 
 
 "I hope the reason you're leaving isn't " I hesitated. 
 
 "Ill conduct? Oh, yes; I'm terribly wicked, Squire 
 Glenarm ! They're sending me off." 
 
 "But I suppose they're awfully strict, the Sisters." 
 
 "They're hideous, perfectly hideous." 
 
 "Where is your home ?" I demanded. "Chicago, Indi 
 anapolis, Cincinnati, perhaps?" 
 
 "Humph, you are dull ! You ought to know from my 
 accent that I'm not from Chicago. And I hope I haven't
 
 162 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 a Kentucky girl's air of waiting to be flattered to death. 
 And no Indianapolis girl would talk to a strange man at 
 the edge of a deep wood in the gray twilight of a winter 
 day, that's from a book; and the Cincinnati girl is 
 without my elan, esprit, whatever you please to call it. 
 She has more Teutonic repose, more of Gretchen-of- 
 the-Khine- Valley about her. Don't you adore French, 
 Squire Glenarm?" she concluded breathlessly, and with 
 no pause in her quick step. 
 
 "I adore yours, Miss Armstrong," I asserted, yielding 
 myself further to the joy of idiocy, and delighting in 
 the mockery and changing moods of her talk. I did 
 not make her out ; indeed, I preferred not to ! I was 
 not then, and I am not now, thank God, of an ana 
 lytical turn of mind. And as I grow older I prefer, 
 even after many a blow, to take my fellow human be 
 ings a good deal as I find them. And as for women, old 
 or young, I envy no man his gift of resolving them into 
 elements. As well carry a spray of arbutus to the lab 
 oratory or subject the enchantment of moonlight upon 
 running water to the flame and blow-pipe as try to 
 analyze the heart of a girl, particularly a girl who 
 paddles a canoe with a sure stroke and puts up a good 
 race with a rabbit. 
 
 A lamp shone ahead of us at the entrance of one of 
 the houses, and lights appeared in all the buildings.
 
 I EXPLOKE A PASSAGE 163 
 
 "If I knew your window I should certainly sing un 
 der it, except that you're going home ! You didn't tell 
 me why they were deporting you." 
 
 "I'm really ashamed to ! You would never " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I would; I'm really an old friend!" I in 
 sisted, feeling more like an idiot every minute. 
 
 "Well, don't tell ! But they caught me flirting with 
 the grocery boy ! Now aren't you disgusted ?" 
 
 "Thoroughly ! I can't believe it ! Why, you'd a lot 
 better flirt with me," I suggested boldly. 
 
 "Well, I'm to be sent away for good at Christmas. I 
 may come back then if I can square myself. My! 
 That's slang, isn't it horrid?" 
 
 "The Sisters don't like slang, I suppose ?" 
 
 "They loathe it ! Miss Devereux you know who she 
 is ! she spies on us and tells." 
 
 "You don't say so ; but I'm not surprised at her. I've 
 heard about her!" I declared bitterly. 
 
 We had reached the door, and I expected her to fly; 
 but she lingered a moment. 
 
 "Oh, if you know her! Perhaps you're a spy, too! 
 It's just as well we should never meet again, Mr. Glen- 
 arm," she declared haughtily. 
 
 "The memory of these few meetings will always lin 
 ger with me, Miss Armstrong," I returned in an imita 
 tion of her own tone.
 
 164 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "I shall scorn to remember you. I" and she folded 
 her arms under the cloak tragically. 
 
 "Our meetings have been all too few, Miss Arm 
 strong. Three, exactly, I believe !" 
 
 "I see you prefer to ignore the first time I ever saw 
 you," she said, her hand on the door. 
 
 "Out there in your canoe ? Never ! And you've for 
 given me for overhearing you and the chaplain on the 
 wall please !" 
 
 She grasped the knob of the door and paused an in 
 stant as though pondering. 
 
 "I make it four times, not counting once in the road 
 and other times when you didn't know, Squire Glenarm ! 
 I'm a foolish little girl to have remembered the first. I 
 see now how b-1-i-n-d I have been." 
 
 She opened and closed the door softly, and I heard 
 her running up the steps within. 
 
 I ran back to the chapel, roundly abusing myself for 
 having neglected my more serious affairs for a bit of 
 silly talk with a school-girl, fearful lest the openings 
 I had left at both ends of the passage should have been 
 discovered. The tunnel added a new and puzzling fac 
 tor to the problem already before me, and I was eager 
 for an opportunity to sit down in peace and comfort to 
 study the situation. 
 
 At the chapel I narrowly escaped running into Stod-
 
 4 
 , . ~ 
 
 *'I shall scorn to remember you!" and she folded her arms under 
 the cloak tragically. P a S e f ^4
 
 I EXPLORE A PASSAGE 165 
 
 dard, but I slipped past him, pulled the hidden door 
 into place, traversed the tunnel without incident, and 
 soon climbed through the hatchway and slammed the 
 false block securely into the opening.
 
 CHAPTEK XIII 
 
 A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 
 
 When I came down after dressing for dinner, Bates 
 called my attention to a belated mail. I pounced eager 
 ly upon a letter in Laurance Donovan's well-known 
 hand, bearing, to my surprise, an American stamp and 
 postmarked New Orleans. It was dated, however, at 
 Vera Cruz, Mexico, December fifteenth, 1901. 
 
 DEAB OLD MAN : I have had a merry time since I saw you 
 in New York. Couldn't get away for a European port 
 as I hoped when I left you, as the authorities seemed to 
 be taking my case seriously, and I was lucky to get off 
 as a deck-hand on a south-bound boat. I expected to get a 
 slice of English prodigal veal at Christmas, but as things 
 stand now, I am grateful to be loose even in this God-for 
 saken hole. The British bulldog is eager to insert its 
 teeth in my trousers, and I was flattered to see my picture 
 bulletined in a conspicuous place the day I struck Vera 
 Cruz. You see, they're badgering the Government at 
 home because I'm not apprehended, and they've got to 
 catch and hang me to show that they've really got their 
 hands on the Irish situation. I am not afraid of the 
 Greasers no people who gorge themselves with bananas 
 and red peppers can be dangerous but the British consul 
 here has a bad eye and even as I write I am dimly con- 
 
 166
 
 167 
 
 scious that a sleek person, who is ostensibly engaged in 
 literary work at the next table, is really killing time while 
 he waits for me to finish this screed. 
 
 No doubt you are peacefully settled on your ancestral 
 estate with only a few months and a little patience be 
 tween you and your grandfather's siller. You always were 
 a lucky brute. People die just to leave you money, whereas 
 I'll have to die to get out of jail. 
 
 I hope to land under the Stars and Stripes within a few 
 days, either across country through El Paso or via New 
 Orleans, preferably the former, as a man's social position 
 is rated high in Texas in proportion to the amount of re 
 ward that's out for him. They'd probably give me the 
 freedom of the state if they knew my crimes had been the 
 subject of debate in the House of Commons. 
 
 But the man across the table is casually looking over 
 here for a glimpse of my signature, so I must give him 
 a good one just for fun. With best wishes always, 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 GEOBGE WASHINGTON SMITH. 
 
 P. S. I shan't mail this here, but give it to a red-haired 
 Irishman on a steamer that sails north to-night. Pleasant, 
 I must say, this eternal dodging! Wish I could share your 
 rural paradise for the length of a pipe and a bottle! Have 
 forgotten whether you said Indian Territory or Indiana, 
 but will take chances on the latter as more remotely sug 
 gesting the aborigines. 
 
 Bates gave me my coffee in the library, as I wished 
 to settle down to an evening of reflection without delay. 
 Larry's report of himself was not reassuring. I knew 
 that if he had any idea of trying to reach me he would 
 not mention it in a letter which might fall into the 
 hands of the authorities, and the hope that he might
 
 168 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 join me grew. I was not, perhaps, entitled to a com 
 panion at Glenarm under the terms of my exile, but as 
 a matter of protection in the existing condition of af 
 fairs there could be no legal or moral reason why I 
 should not defend myself against my foes, and Larry 
 was an ally worth having. 
 
 In all my hours of questioning and anxiety at Glen- 
 arm I never doubted the amiable intentions of my 
 grandfather. His device for compelling my residence 
 at his absurd house was in keeping with his character, 
 and it was all equitable enough. But his dead hand had 
 no control over the strange issue, and I felt justified in 
 interpreting the will in the light of my experiences. I 
 certainly did not intend to appeal to the local police au 
 thorities, at least not until the animus of the attack on 
 me was determined. 
 
 My neighbor, the chaplain, had inadvertently given 
 me a bit of important news ; and my mind kept revert 
 ing to the fact that Morgan was reporting his injury to 
 the executor of my grandfather's estate in New York. 
 Everything else that had happened was tame and un 
 important compared with this. Why had John Marshall 
 Glenarm made Arthur Pickering the executor of his 
 estate? He knew that I detested him, that Pickering's 
 noble aims and high ambitions had been praised by my 
 family until his very name sickened me ; and yet my
 
 A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 169 
 
 own grandfather had thought it wise to intrust his for 
 tune and my future to the man of all men who was 
 most repugnant to me. I rose and paced the floor in 
 anger. 
 
 Instead of accepting Pickering's word for it that the 
 will was all straight, I should have employed counsel 
 and taken legal advice before suffering myself to be 
 rushed away into a part of the world I had never visited 
 before, and cooped up in a dreary house under the eye 
 of a somber scoundrel who might poison me any day, if 
 he did not prefer to shoot me in my sleep. My rage 
 must fasten upon some one, and Bates was the nearest 
 target for it. I went to the kitchen, where he usually 
 spent his evenings, to vent my feelings upon him, only 
 to find him gone. I climbed to his room and found it 
 empty. Very likely he was off condoling with his friend 
 and fellow conspirator, the caretaker, and I fumed with 
 rage and disappointment. I was thoroughly tired, as 
 tired as on days when I had beaten my way through 
 tropical jungles without food or water; but I wished, 
 in my impotent anger against I knew not what agencies, 
 to punish myself, to induce an utter weariness that 
 would drag me exhausted to bed. 
 
 The snow in the highway was well beaten down and 
 I swung off countryward past St. Agatha's. A gray 
 mist hung over the fields in whirling clouds, breaking
 
 170 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 away occasionally and showing the throbbing winter 
 stars. The walk, and my interest in the alternation of 
 star-lighted and mist-wrapped landscape won me to a 
 better state of mind, and after tramping a couple of 
 miles, I set out for home. Several times on my tramp 
 I had caught myself whistling the air of a majestic 
 old hymn,, and smiled, remembering my young friend 
 Olivia, and her playing in the chapel. She was an 
 amusing child; the thought of her further lifted my 
 spirit; and I turned into the school park as I passed 
 the outer gate with a half -recognized wish to pass near 
 the barracks where she spent her days. 
 
 At the school-gate the lamps of a carriage suddenly 
 blurred in the mist. Carriages were not common in this 
 region, and I was not surprised to find that this was the 
 familiar village hack that met trains day and night at 
 Glenarm station. Some parent, I conjectured, paying a 
 visit to St. Agatha's ; perhaps the father of Miss Olivia 
 Gladys Armstrong had come to carry her home for a 
 stricter discipline than Sister Theresa's school afforded. 
 
 The driver sat asleep on his box, and I passed him 
 and went on into the grounds. A whim seized me to 
 visit the crypt of the chapel and examine the opening 
 to the tunnel. As I passed the little group of school- 
 buildings a man came hurriedly from one of them and 
 turned toward the chapel.
 
 A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 171 
 
 I first thought it was Stoddard, but I could not make 
 him out in the mist and I waited for him to put twenty 
 paces between us before I followed along the path that 
 led from the school to the chapel. 
 
 He strode into the chapel porch with an air of assur 
 ance, and I heard him address some one who had been 
 waiting. The mist was now so heavy that I could not 
 see my hand before my face, and I stole forward until 
 I could hear the voices of the two men distinctly. 
 
 "Bates!" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 I heard feet scraping on the stone floor of the porch. 
 
 "This is a devil of a place to talk in but it's the best 
 we can do. Did the young man know I sent for you?" 
 
 "No, sir. He was quite busy with his books and pa 
 pers." 
 
 "Humph ! We can never be sure of him." 
 
 "I suppose that is correct, sir." 
 
 "Well, you and Morgan are a fine pair, I must say! 
 I thought he had some sense, and that you'd see to it 
 that he didn't make a mess of this thing. He's in bed 
 now with a hole in his arm and you've got to go on 
 alone." 
 
 "I'll do my best, Mr. Pickering." 
 
 "Don't call me by name, you idiot. We're not ad 
 vertising our business from the housetops."
 
 172 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Bates humbly. 
 
 The blood was roaring through my head, and my 
 hands were clenched as I stood there listening to this 
 colloquy. 
 
 Pickering's voice was and is unmistakable. There 
 was always a purring softness in it. He used to remind 
 me at school of a sleek, complacent cat, and I hate cats 
 with particular loathing. 
 
 "Is Morgan lying or not when he says he shot him 
 self accidentally ?" demanded Pickering petulantly. 
 
 "I only know what I heard from the gardener here at 
 the school. You'll understand, I hope, that I can't be 
 seen going to Morgan's house." 
 
 "Of course not. But he says you haven't played fair 
 with him, that you even attacked him a few days after 
 Glenarm came." 
 
 "Yes, and he hit me over the head with a club. It 
 was his indiscretion, sir. He wanted to go through the 
 library in broad daylight, and it wasn't any use, any 
 how. There's nothing there." 
 
 "But I don't like the looks of this shooting. Mor 
 gan's sick and out of his head. But a fellow like Mor 
 gan isn't likely to shoot himself accidentally, and now 
 that it's done the work's stopped and the time is run 
 ning on. What do you think Glenarm suspects ?" 
 
 "I can't tell, sir, but mighty little, I should say. The
 
 A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 173 
 
 shot through the window the first night he was here 
 seemed to shake him a trifle, but he's quite settled down 
 now, I should say, sir." 
 
 "He probably doesn't spend much time on this side 
 of the fence doesn't haunt the chapel, I fancy ?" 
 
 "Lord, no, sir! I hardly suspect the young gentle 
 man of being a praying man." 
 
 "You haven't seen him prowling about analyzing the 
 architecture " 
 
 "Not a bit of it, sir. He hasn't, I should say, what 
 his revered grandfather called the analytical mind." 
 
 Hearing yourself discussed in this frank fashion by 
 your own servant is, I suppose, a wholesome thing for 
 the spirit. The man who stands behind your chair may 
 acquire, in time, some special knowledge of your men 
 tal processes by a diligent study of the back of your 
 head. But 1 was not half so angry with these conspira 
 tors as with myself, for ever having entertained a single 
 generous thought toward Bates. It was, however, con 
 soling to know that Morgan was lying to Pickering, and 
 that my own exploits in the house were unknown to the 
 executor. 
 
 Pickering stamped his feet upon the paved porch 
 floor in a way that I remembered of old. It marked a 
 conclusion, and preluded serious statements. 
 
 "Now, Bates," he said, with a ring of authority and
 
 174 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 speaking in a louder key than he had yet used, "it's 
 your duty under all the circumstances to help discover 
 the hidden assets of the estate. We've got to pluck the 
 mystery from that architectural monster over there, and 
 the time for doing it is short enough. Mr. Glenarm was 
 a rich man. To my own knowledge he had a couple of 
 millions, and he couldn't have spent it all on that house. 
 He reduced his bank account to a few thousand dollars 
 and swept out his safety-vault boxes with a broom be 
 fore his last trip into Vermont. He didn't die with the 
 stuff in his clothes, did he?" 
 
 "Lord bless me, no, sir! There was little enough 
 cash to bury him, with you out of the country and me 
 alone with him." 
 
 "He was a crank and I suppose he got a lot of satis 
 faction out of concealing his money. But this hunt for it 
 isn't funny. I supposed, of course, we'd dig it up be 
 fore Glenarm got here or I shouldn't have been in such 
 a hurry to send for him. But it's over there somewhere, 
 or in the grounds. There must be a plan of the house 
 that would help. I'll give you a thousand dollars the 
 day you wire me you have found any sort of clue." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 "I don't want thanks, I want the money or securities 
 or whatever it is. I've got to go back to my car now,
 
 A PAIR OF EAVESDROPPERS 175 
 
 and you'd better skip home. You needn't tell your 
 young master that I've been here." 
 
 I was trying hard to believe, as I stood there with 
 clenched hands outside the chapel porch, that Arthur 
 Pickering's name was written in the list of directors of 
 one of the greatest trust companies in America, and 
 that he belonged to the most exclusive clubs in New 
 York. I had run out for a walk with only an inverness 
 over my dinner-jacket, and I was thoroughly chilled by 
 the cold mist. I was experiencing, too, an inner cold as 
 I reflected upon the greed and perfidy of man. 
 
 "Keep an eye on Morgan/' said Pickering. 
 
 "Certainly, sir." 
 
 "And be careful what you write or wire." 
 
 "I'll mind those points, sir. But I'd suggest, if you 
 please, sir " 
 
 "Well ?" demanded Pickering impatiently. 
 
 "That you should call at the house. It would look 
 rather strange to the young gentleman if you'd come 
 here and not see him." 
 
 "I haven't the slightest errand with him. And be 
 sides, I haven't time. If he learns that I've been here 
 you may say that my business was with Sister Theresa 
 and that I regretted very much not having an oppor 
 tunity to call on him."
 
 176 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 The irony of this was not lost on Bates, who chuckled 
 softly. He came out into the open and turned away to 
 ward the Glenarm gate. Pickering passed me, so near 
 that I might have put out my hand and touched him, 
 and in a moment I heard the carriage drive off rapidly 
 toward the village. 
 
 I heard Bates running home over the snow and list 
 ened to the clatter of the village hack as it bore Picker 
 ing back to Annandale. 
 
 Then out of the depths of the chapel porch out of 
 the depths of time and space, it seemed, so dazed I stood 
 some one came swiftly toward me, some one, light of 
 foot like a woman, ran down the walk a little way into 
 the fog and paused. 
 
 An exclamation broke from me. 
 
 "Eavesdropping for two !" it was the voice of Olivia. 
 "I'd take pretty good care of myself if I were you, 
 Squire Glenarm. Good night !" 
 
 "Good-by !" I faltered, as she sped away into the mist 
 toward the school.
 
 CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 THE GIRL IN GRAY 
 
 My first thought was to find the crypt door and re 
 turn through the tunnel before Bates reached the house. 
 The chapel was open, and by lighting matches I found 
 my way to the map and panel. I slipped through and 
 closed the opening; then ran through the passage with 
 gratitude for the generous builder who had given it a 
 clear floor and an ample roof. In my haste I miscalcu 
 lated its length and pitched into the steps under the 
 trap at a speed that sent me sprawling. In a moment 
 more I had jammed the trap into place and was run 
 ning up the cellar steps, breathless, with my cap 
 smashed down over my eyes. 
 
 I heard Bates at the rear of the house and knew I Had 
 won the race by a scratch. There was but a moment in 
 which to throw my coat and cap under the divan, slap 
 the dust from my clothes and seat myself at the great 
 table, where the candles blazed tranquilly. 
 
 Bates' step was as steady as ever there was not the 
 slightest hint of excitement in it as he came and stood 
 within the door. 
 
 177
 
 178 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Beg pardon, Mr. Glenarm, did you wish anything, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you, Bates." 
 
 "I had stepped down to the village, sir, to speak to 
 the grocer. The eggs he sent this morning were not 
 quite up to the mark. I have warned him not to send 
 any of the storage article to this house." 
 
 "That's right, Bates." I folded my arms to hide my 
 hands, which were black from contact with the passage, 
 and faced my man servant. My respect for his rascally 
 powers had increased immensely since he gave me my 
 coffee. A contest with so clever a rogue was worth 
 while. 
 
 "I'm grateful for your good care of me, Bates. I had 
 expected to perish of discomfort out here, but you are 
 treating me like a lord." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Glenarm. I do what I can, sir." 
 
 He brought fresh candles for the table candelabra, 
 going about with his accustomed noiseless step. I felt 
 a cold chill creep down my spine as he passed behind 
 me on these errands. His transition from the role of 
 conspirator to that of my flawless servant was almost 
 too abrupt. 
 
 I dismissed him as quickly as possible, and listened 
 to his step through the halls as he went about locking 
 the doors. This was a regular incident, but I was aware
 
 THE GIEL IN GRAY 179 
 
 to-night that he exercised what seemed to me a particu 
 lar care in settling the bolts. The locking-up process 
 had rather bored me before; to-night the snapping of 
 bolts was particularly trying. 
 
 When I heard Bates climbing to his own quarters I 
 quietly went the rounds on my own account and found 
 everything as tight as a drum. 
 
 In the cellar I took occasion to roll some barrels of 
 cement into the end of the corridor, to cover and block 
 the trap door. Bates had no manner of business in that 
 part of the house, as the heating apparatus was under 
 the kitchen and accessible by an independent stairway. 
 I had no immediate use for the hidden passage to the 
 chapel and I did not intend that my enemies should 
 avail themselves of it. Morgan, at least, knew of it and, 
 while he was not likely to trouble me at once, I had re 
 solved to guard every point in our pleasant game. 
 
 I was tired enough to sleep when I went to my room, 
 and after an eventless night, woke to a clear day and 
 keener air. 
 
 "I'm going to take a little run into the village. Bates," 
 I remarked at breakfast. 
 
 "Very good, sir. The weather's quite cleared." 
 
 "If any one should call I'll be back in an hour or so." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 He turned his impenetrable face toward me as I rose.
 
 180 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 There was, of course, no chance whatever that any one 
 would call to see me; the Eeverend Paul Stoddard was 
 the only human being, except Bates, Morgan and the 
 man who brought up my baggage, who had crossed the 
 threshold since my arrival. 
 
 I really had an errand in the village. I wished to 
 visit the hardware store and buy some cartridges, but 
 Pickering's presence in the community was a disturb 
 ing factor in my mind. I wished to get sight of him, 
 to meet him, if possible, and see how a man, whose 
 schemes were so deep, looked in the light of day. 
 
 As I left the grounds and gained the highway Stod 
 dard fell in with me. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Glenarm, I'm glad to see you abroad so 
 early. With that library of yours the temptation must 
 be strong to stay within doors. But a man's got to sub 
 ject himself to the sun and wind. Even a good wetting 
 now and then is salutary." 
 
 "I try to get out every day," I answered. "But I've 
 chiefly limited myself to the grounds." 
 
 "Well, it's a fine estate. The lake is altogether 
 charming in summer. I quite envy you your fortune." 
 
 He walked with a long swinging stride, his hands 
 thrust deep into his overcoat pockets. It was difficult 
 to accept the idea of so much physical strength being 
 wasted in the mere business of saying prayers in a girls'
 
 THE GIRL IN GRAY 181 
 
 school. Here was a fellow who should have been cap 
 tain of a ship or a soldier, a leader of forlorn hopes. I 
 felt sure there must be a weakness of some sort in him. 
 Quite possibly it would prove to be a mild estheticism 
 that delighted in the savor of incense and the mournful 
 cadence of choral vespers. He declined a cigar and this 
 rather increased my suspicions. 
 
 The village hack, filled with young women, passed at 
 a gallop, bound for the station, and we took off our hats. 
 
 "Christmas holidays," explained the chaplain. "Prac 
 tically all the students go home." 
 
 "Lucky kids, to have a Christmas to go home to I" 
 
 "I suppose Mr. Pickering got away last night?" he 
 observed, and my pulse quickened at the name. 
 
 "I haven't seen him yet," I answered guardedly. 
 
 "Then of course he hasn't gone!" and these words, 
 uttered in the big clergyman's deep tones, seemed wholly 
 plausible. There was, to be sure, nothing so unlikely as 
 that Arthur Pickering, executor of my grandfather's 
 estate, would come to Glenarm without seeing me. 
 
 "Sister Theresa told me this morning he was here. 
 He called on her and Miss Devereux last night. I 
 haven't seen him myself. I thought possibly I might 
 run into him in the village. His car's very likely on the 
 station switch." 
 
 "No doubt we shall find him there," I answered easily.
 
 182 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 The Annandale station presented an appearance of 
 unusual gaiety when we reached the main street of the 
 village. There, to be sure, lay a private car on the 
 siding, and on the platform was a group of twenty or 
 more girls, with several of the brown-habited Sisters of 
 St. Agatha. There was something a little foreign in 
 the picture; the girls in their bright colors talking 
 gaily, the Sisters in their somber garb hovering about, 
 suggesting France or Italy rather than Indiana. 
 
 "I came here with the idea that St. Agatha's was a 
 charity school," I remarked to the chaplain. 
 
 "Not a bit of it ! Sister Theresa is really a swell, you 
 know, and her school is hard to get into." 
 
 "I'm glad you warned me in time. I had thought of 
 sending over a sack of flour occasionally, or a few bolts 
 of calico to help on the good work. You've saved my 
 life." 
 
 "I probably have. I might mention your good inten 
 tions to Sister Theresa." 
 
 "Pray don't. If there's any danger of meeting her 
 on that platform " 
 
 "No; she isn't coming down, I'm sure. But yon 
 ought to know her, if you will pardon me. And Miss 
 Devereux is charming, but really I don't mean to be 
 annoying." 
 
 "Not in the least. But under the circumstances,
 
 THE GIRL IN GEAY 183 
 
 the will and my probationary year, you can under 
 stand" 
 
 "Certainly. A man's affairs are his own, Mr. Glen- 
 arm." 
 
 We stepped upon the platform. The private car was 
 on the opposite side of the station and had been 
 switched into a siding of the east and west road. Pick 
 ering was certainly getting on. The private car, even 
 more than the yacht, is the symbol of plutocracy, and 
 gaping rustics were evidently impressed by its grandeur. 
 As I lounged across the platform with Stoddard, Pick 
 ering came out into the vestibule of his car, followed by 
 two ladies and an elderly gentleman. They all descend 
 ed and began a promenade of the plank walk. 
 
 Pickering saw me an instant later and came up hur 
 riedly, with outstretched hand. 
 
 "This is indeed good fortune ! We dropped off here 
 last night rather unexpectedly to rest a hot-box and 
 should have been picked up by the midnight express for 
 Chicago; but there was a miscarriage of orders some 
 where and we now have to wait for the nine o'clock, and 
 it's late. If I'd known how much behind it was I 
 should have run out to see you. How are things go- 
 ing?" 
 
 "As smooth as a whistle ! It really isn't so bad when 
 you face it. And the fact is I'm actually at work."
 
 184 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "That's splendid. The year will go fast enough, 
 never fear. I suppose you pine for a little human so 
 ciety now and then. A man can never strike the right 
 medium in such things. In New York we are all rushed 
 to death. I sometimes feel that I'd like a little rustica 
 tion myself. I get nervous, and working for corpora 
 tions is wearing. The old gentleman there is Taylor, 
 president of the Interstate and Western. The ladies 
 are his wife and her sister. I'd like to introduce 
 you." He ran his eyes over my corduroys and leggings 
 amiably. He had not in years addressed me so pleas 
 antly. 
 
 Stoddard had left me to go to the other end of the 
 platform to speak to some of the students. I followed 
 Pickering rather loathly to where the companions of 
 his travels were pacing to and fro in the crisp morning 
 air. 
 
 I laugh still whenever I remember that morning at 
 Annandale station. As soon as Pickering had got me 
 well under way in conversation with Taylor, he excused 
 himself hurriedly and went off, as I assumed, to be sure 
 the station agent had received orders for attaching the 
 private car to the Chicago express. Taylor proved to be 
 a supercilious person, I believe they call him Chilly 
 Billy at the Metropolitan Club, and our efforts to con-
 
 THE GIRL IN GRAY 185 
 
 verse were pathetically unfruitful. He asked me the 
 value of land in my county, and as my ignorance on this 
 subject was vast and illimitable, I could see that he was 
 forming a low opinion of my character and intelligence. 
 The two ladies stood by, making no concealment of their 
 impatience. Their eyes were upon the girls from St. 
 Agatha's on the other platform, whom they could see 
 beyond me. I had jumped the conversation from In 
 diana farm-lands to the recent disorders in Bulgaria, 
 which interested me more, when Mrs. Taylor spoke 
 abruptly to her sister. 
 
 "That's she the one in the gray coat, talking to the 
 clergyman. She came a moment ago in the carriage." 
 "The one with the umbrella ? I thought you said " 
 Mrs. Taylor glanced at her sister warningly, and 
 they both looked at me. Then they sought to detach 
 themselves and moved away. There was some one on 
 the farther side of the platform whom they wished to see, 
 and Taylor, not understanding their manoeuver he was 
 really anxious, I think, not to be left alone with me 
 started down the platform after them, I following. Mrs. 
 Taylor and her sister walked to the end of the platform 
 and looked across, a biscuit-toss away, to where Stod- 
 dard stood talking to the girl I had already heard de 
 scribed as wearing a gray coat and carrying an umbrella.
 
 The girl in gray crossed the track quickly and ad 
 dressed the two women cordially. Taylor's back was to 
 her and he was growing eloquent in a mild well-bred 
 way over the dullness of our statesmen in not seeing the 
 advantages that would accrue to the United States in 
 fostering our shipping industry. His wife, her sister 
 and the girl in gray were so near that I could hear 
 plainly what they were saying. They were referring 
 apparently to the girl's refusal of an invitation to ac 
 company them to California. 
 
 "So you can't go it's too bad ! We had hoped that 
 when you really saw us on the way you would relent," 
 said Mrs. Taylor. 
 
 "But there are many reasons; and above all Sister 
 Theresa needs me." 
 
 It was the voice of Olivia, a little lower, a little more 
 restrained than I had known it. 
 
 "But think of the rose gardens that are waiting for 
 us out there !" said the other lady. They were showing 
 her the deference that elderly women always have for 
 pretty girls. 
 
 "Alas, and again alas!" exclaimed Olivia. "Please 
 don't make it harder for me than necessary. But I gave 
 my promise a year ago to spend these holidays in Cin 
 cinnati."
 
 THE GIRL IN GRAY 187 
 
 She ignored me wholly, and after shaking hands with 
 the ladies returned to the other platform. I wondered 
 whether she was overlooking Taylor on purpose to cut 
 me. 
 
 Taylor was still at his lecture on the needs of our 
 American merchant marine when Pickering passed hur 
 riedly, crossed the track and began speaking earnestly 
 to the girl in gray. 
 
 "The American flag should command the seas. What 
 we need is not more battle-ships but more freight car 
 riers " Taylor was saying. 
 
 But I was watching Olivia Gladys Armstrong. In a 
 long skirt, with her hair caught up under a gray toque 
 that matched her coat perfectly, she was not my Olivia 
 of the tam-o'-shanter, who had pursued the rabbit ; nor 
 yet the unsophisticated school-girl, who had suffered my 
 idiotic babble; nor, again, the dreamy rapt organist of 
 the chapel. She was a grown woman with at least 
 twenty summers to her credit, and there was about her 
 an air of knowing the world, and of not being at all a 
 person one would make foolish speeches to. She spoke 
 to Pickering gravely. Once she smiled dolefully and 
 shook her head, and I vaguely strove to remember where 
 I had seen that look in her eyes before. Her gold beads, 
 which I had once carried in my pocket, were clasped
 
 188 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 tight about the close collar of her dress ; and I was glad, 
 very glad, that I had ever touched anything that be 
 longed to her. 
 
 "As the years go by we are going to dominate trade 
 more and more. Our manufactures already lead the 
 world, and what we make we've got to sell, haven't we ?" 
 demanded Taylor. 
 
 "Certainly, sir," I answered warmly. 
 
 Who was Olivia Gladys Armstrong and what was 
 Arthur Pickering's business with her? And what was 
 it she had said to me that evening when I had found her 
 playing on the chapel organ? So much happened that 
 day that I had almost forgotten, and, indeed, I had 
 tried to forget I had made a fool of myself for the edi 
 fication of an amusing little school-girl. "I see you 
 prefer to ignore the first time I ever saw you," she had 
 said; but if I had thought of this at all it had been 
 with righteous self-contempt. Or, I may have flattered 
 my vanity with the reflection that she had eyed me 
 her hero, perhaps with wistful admiration across the 
 wall. 
 
 Meanwhile the Chicago express roared into Annan- 
 dale and the private car was attached. Taylor watched 
 the trainmen with the cool interest of a man for whom 
 the proceeding had no novelty, while he continued to
 
 THE GIEL IN GEAY 189 
 
 dilate upon the nation's commercial opportunities. I 
 turned perforce, and walked with him back toward the 
 station, where Mrs. Taylor and her sister were talking 
 to the conductor. 
 
 Pickering came running across the platform with sev 
 eral telegrams in his hand. The express had picked up 
 the car and was ready to continue its westward journey. 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry, Glenarm, that our stop's so 
 short," and Pickering's face wore a worried look as he 
 addressed me, his eyes on the conductor. 
 
 "How far do you go?" I asked. 
 
 "California. We have interests out there and I have 
 to attend some stock-holders' meetings in Colorado in 
 January." 
 
 "Ah, you business men ! You business men !" I said 
 reproachfully. I wished to call him a blackguard then 
 and there, and it was on my tongue to do so, but I con 
 cluded that to wait until he had shown his hand fully 
 was the better game. 
 
 The ladies entered the car and I shook hands with 
 Taylor, who threatened to send me his pamphlet on 
 The Needs of American Shipping, when he got back to 
 New York. 
 
 "It's too bad she wouldn't go with us. Poor girl! 
 this must be a dreary hole for her; she deserves wider
 
 190 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 horizons/'' he said to Pickering, who helped him upon 
 the platform of the car with what seemed to be unneces 
 sary precipitation. 
 
 "You little know us/' I declared,, for Pickering's 
 benefit. "Life at Annandale is nothing if not exciting. 
 The people here are indifferent marksmen or there'd be 
 murders galore." 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm is a good deal of a wag," explained 
 Pickering dryly, swinging himself aboard as the train 
 started. 
 
 "Yes ; it's my humor that keeps me alive," I respond 
 ed, and taking off my hat, I saluted Arthur Pickering 
 with my broadest salaam.
 
 CHAPTEK XV 
 
 I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 
 
 The south-bound train had not arrived and as I 
 turned away the station-agent again changed its time 
 on the bulletin board. It was now due in ten minutes. 
 A few students had boarded the Chicago train, but a 
 greater number still waited on the farther platform. 
 The girl in gray was surrounded by half a dozen stu 
 dents, all talking animatedly. As I walked toward them 
 I could not justify my stupidity in mistaking a grown 
 woman for a school-girl of fifteen or sixteen ; but is was 
 the tam-o'-shanter, the short skirt, the youthful joy in 
 the outdoor world that had disguised her as effectually 
 as Eosalind to the eyes of Orlando in the forest of Ar- 
 den. She was probably a teacher, quite likely the 
 teacher of music, I argued, who had amused herself 
 at my expense. 
 
 It had seemed the easiest thing in the world to ap 
 proach her with an apology or a farewell, but those few 
 inches added to her skirt and that pretty gray toque 
 substituted for the tam-o'-shanter set up a barrier that 
 did not yield at all as I drew nearer. At the last mo- 
 
 191
 
 192 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 ment, as I crossed the track and stepped upon the other 
 platform, it occurred to me that while I might have 
 some claim upon the attention of Olivia Gladys Arm 
 strong, a wayward school-girl of athletic tastes, I had 
 none whatever upon a person whom it was proper to 
 address as Miss Armstrong, who was, I felt sure, quite 
 capable of snubbing me if snubbing fell in with her 
 mood. 
 
 She glanced toward me and bowed instantly. Her 
 young companions withdrew to a conservative distance ; 
 and I will say this for the St. Agatha girls : their man 
 ners are beyond criticism, and an affable discretion is 
 one of their most admirable traits. 
 
 "I didn't know they ever grew up so fast, in a day 
 and a night !" 
 
 I was glad I remembered the number of beads in her 
 chain ; the item seemed at once io become important. 
 
 "It's the air, I suppose. It's praised by excellent 
 critics, as you may learn from the catalogue." 
 
 "But you are going to an ampler ether, a diviner air. 
 You have attained the beatific state and at once take 
 flight. If they confer perfection like an academic de 
 gree at St. Agatha's, then " 
 
 I had never felt so stupidly helpless in my life. 
 There were a thousand things I wished to say to her; 
 there were countless questions I wished to ask; but her
 
 I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 193 
 
 calmness and poise were disconcerting. She had not, 
 apparently, the slightest curiosity about me; and there 
 was no reason why she should have I knew that well 
 enough ! Her eyes met mine easily ; their azure depths 
 puzzled me. She was almost, but not quite, some one I 
 had seen before, and it was not my woodland Olivia. 
 Her eyes, the soft curve of her cheek, the light in 
 her hair, but the memory of another time, another 
 place, another girl, lured only to baffle me. 
 
 She laughed, a little murmuring laugh. 
 
 "I'll never tell if you won't," she said. 
 
 "But I don't see how that helps me with you ?" 
 
 "It certainly does not ! That is a much more serious 
 matter, Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "And the worst of it is that I haven't a single thing 
 to say for myself. It wasn't the not knowing that was 
 so utterly stupid " 
 
 "Certainly not ! It was talking that ridiculous twad 
 dle. It was trying to flirt with a silly school-girl. What 
 will do for fifteen is somewhat vacuous for " 
 
 She paused abruptly, colored and laughed. 
 
 "I am twenty-seven !" 
 
 "And I am just the usual age," she said. 
 
 "Ages don't count, but time is important. There are 
 many things I wish you'd tell me, you who hold the 
 key of the gate of mystery."
 
 194 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Then you'll have to pick the lock !" 
 
 She laughed lightly. The somber Sisters patrolling 
 the platform with their charges heeded us little. 
 
 "I had no idea you knew Arthur Pickering when 
 you were just Olivia in the tam-o'-shanter." 
 
 "Maybe you think he wouldn't have cared for my 
 acquaintance as Olivia in the tam-o'-shanter. Men 
 are very queer !" 
 
 "But Arthur Pickering is an old friend of mine." 
 
 "So he told me." 
 
 "We were neighbors in our youth." 
 
 "I believe I have heard him mention it." 
 
 "And we did our prep school together, and then 
 parted !" 
 
 "You tell exactly the same story, so it must be true. 
 He went to college and you went to Tech." 
 
 "And you knew him ?" I began, my curiosity thor 
 oughly aroused. 
 
 "Not at college, any more than I knew you at Tech." 
 
 "The train's coming," I said earnestly, "and I wish 
 you would tell me when I shall see you again !" 
 
 "Before we part for ever ?" There was a mischievous 
 hint of the Olivia in short skirts in her tone. 
 
 "Please don't suggest it! Our times have been 
 strange and few. There was that first night, when you 
 called to me from the lake."
 
 I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 195 
 
 "How impertinent ! How dare you remember that?" 
 
 "And there was that other encounter at the chapel 
 porch. Neither you nor I had the slightest business 
 there. I admit my own culpability." 
 
 She colored again. 
 
 "But you spoke as though you understood what you 
 must have heard there. It is important for me to know. 
 I have a right to know just wHat you meant by that 
 warning." 
 
 Real distress showed in her face for an instant. The 
 agent and his helpers rushed the last baggage down the 
 platform, and the rails hummed their warning of the 
 approaching train. 
 
 "I was eavesdropping on my own account," she said 
 hurriedly and with a note of finality. "I was there by 
 intention, and" there was another hint of the tam-o'- 
 shanter in the mirth that seemed to bubble for a mo 
 ment in her throat "it's too bad you didn't see me, for 
 I had on my prettiest gown, and the fog wasn't good for 
 it. But you know as much of what was said there as I 
 do. You are a man,, and I have heard that you have had 
 some experience in taking care of yourself, Mr. Glen- 
 arm." 
 
 "To be sure ; but there are times " 
 
 "Yes, there are times when the odds seem rather 
 heavy. I have noticed that myself."
 
 196: THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 She smiled, but for an instant the sad look came into 
 her eyes, a look that vaguely but insistently suggested 
 another time and place. 
 
 "I want you to come back," I said boldly, for the 
 train was very near, and I felt that the eyes of the Sis 
 ters were upon us. "You can not go away where I shall 
 not find you !" 
 
 I did not know who this girl was, her home, or her 
 relation to the school, but I knew that her life and 
 mine had touched strangely; that her eyes were blue, 
 and that her voice had called to me twice through the 
 dark, in mockery once and in warning another time, 
 and that the sense of having known her before, of hav 
 ing looked into her eyes, haunted me. The youth in 
 her was so luring; she was at once so frank and so 
 guarded, breeding and the taste and training of an 
 ampler world than that of Annandale were so evidenced 
 in the witchery of her voice, in the grace and ease that 
 marked her every motion, in the soft gray tone of hat, 
 dress and gloves, that a new mood, a new hope and 
 faith sang in my pulses. There, on that platform, I felt 
 again the sweet heartache I had known as a boy, when 
 spring first warmed the Vermont hillsides and the 
 mountains sent the last snows singing in joy of their 
 release down through the brook-beds and into the wak 
 ened heart of youth.
 
 She met my eyes steadily. 
 
 "If I thought there was the slightest chance of my 
 ever seeing you again I shouldn't be talking to you 
 here. But I thought, I thought it would be good fun 
 to see how you really talked to a grown-up. So I am 
 risking the displeasure of these good Sisters just to test 
 your conversational powers, Mr. Glenarm. You see how 
 perfectly frank I am." 
 
 "But you forget that I can follow you ; I don't intend 
 to sit down in this hole and dream about you. You 
 can't go anywhere but I shall follow and find you." 
 
 "That is finely spoken, Squire Glenarm ! But I im 
 agine you are hardly likely to go far from Glenarm 
 very soon. It isn't, of course, any of my affair ; and yet 
 I don't hesitate to say that I feel perfectly safe from 
 pursuit!" and she laughed her little low laugh that 
 was delicious in its mockery. 
 
 I felt the blood mounting to my cheek. She knew, 
 then, that I was virtually a prisoner at Glenarm, and 
 for once in my life, at least, I was ashamed of my folly 
 that had caused my grandfather to hold and check me 
 from the grave, as he had never been able to control me 
 in his life. The whole countryside knew why I was at 
 Glenarm, and that did not matter; but my heart rebelled 
 at the thought that this girl knew and mocked me with 
 her knowledge.
 
 198 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "I shall see you Christmas Eve," I said, "wherever 
 you may be." 
 
 "In three days? Then you will come to my Christ 
 mas Eve party. I shall be delighted to see you, and 
 flattered! Just think of throwing away a fortune to 
 satisfy one's curiosity ! I'm surprised at you, but grati 
 fied, on the whole, Mr. Glenarm I" 
 
 "I shall give more than a fortune, I shall give the 
 honor I have pledged to my grandfather's memory to 
 hear your voice again." 
 
 "That is a great deal, for so small a voice; but 
 money, fortune! A man will risk his honor readily 
 enough, but his fortune is a more serious matter. I'm 
 sorry we shall not meet again. It would be pleasant to 
 discuss the subject further. It interests me particu 
 larly." 
 
 "In three days I shall see you," I said. 
 
 She was instantly grave. 
 
 "No! Please do not try. It would be a great mis 
 take. And, anyhow, you can hardly come to my party 
 without being invited." 
 
 "That matter is closed. Wherever you are on Christ 
 mas Eve I shall find you," I said, and felt my heart 
 leap, knowing that I meant what I said. 
 
 "Good-by," she said, turning away. "I'm sorry I 
 shan't ever chase rabbits at Glenarm any more."
 
 199 
 
 "Or paddle a canoe, or play wonderful celestial music 
 on the organ." 
 
 "Or be an eavesdropper or hear pleasant words from 
 the master of Glenarm " 
 
 "But I don't know where you are going you haven't 
 told me anything you are slipping out into the 
 world" 
 
 She did not hear or would not answer. She turned 
 away, and was at once surrounded by a laughing throng 
 that crowded about the train. Two brown-robed Sisters 
 stood like sentinels, one at either side, as she stepped 
 into the car. I was conscious of a feeling that from the 
 depths of their hoods they regarded me with un-Chris- 
 tian disdain. Through the windows I could see the 
 students fluttering to seats, and the girl in gray seemed 
 to be marshaling them. The gray hat appeared at a 
 window for an instant, and a smiling face gladdened, I 
 am sure, the guardians of the peace at St. Agatha's, for 
 whom it was intended. 
 
 The last trunk crashed into the baggage car, every 
 window framed for a moment a girl's face, and the 
 train was gone.
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 
 
 Bates brought a great log and rolled it upon exactly 
 the right spot on the andirons, and a great constellation 
 of sparks thronged up the chimney. The old relic of a 
 house I called the establishment by many names, but 
 this was, I think, my favorite could be heated in all 
 its habitable parts, as Bates had demonstrated. The 
 halls were of glacial temperature these cold days, but 
 my room above, the dining-room and the great library 
 were comfortable enough. I threw down a book and 
 knocked the ashes from my pipe. 
 
 "Bates!" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I think my spiritual welfare is in jeopardy. I need 
 counsel, a spiritual adviser." 
 
 "I'm afraid that's beyond me, sir." 
 
 "I'd like to invite Mr. Stoddard to dinner so I may 
 discuss my soul's health with him at leisure." 
 
 "Certainly^ Mr. Glenarm." 
 200
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 201 
 
 "But it occurs to me that probably the terms of Mr. 
 Glenarm's will point to my complete sequestration here. 
 In other words, I may forfeit my rights by asking a 
 guest to dinner." 
 
 He pondered the matter for a moment, then replied : 
 
 "I should think, sir, as you ask my opinion, that 
 in the case of a gentleman in holy orders there would 
 be no impropriety. Mr. Stoddard is a fine gentleman; 
 I heard your late grandfather speak of him very 
 highly." 
 
 "That, I imagine, is hardly conclusive in the matter. 
 There is the executor " 
 
 "To be sure; I hadn't considered him." 
 
 "Well, you'd better consider him. He's the court of 
 last resort, isn't he ?" 
 
 "Well, of course, that's one way of looking at it, 
 sir." 
 
 "I suppose there's no chance of Mr. Pickering's drop 
 ping in on us now and then." 
 
 He gazed at me steadily, unblinkingly and with en 
 tire respect. 
 
 "He's a good deal of a traveler, Mr. Pickering is. He 
 passed through only this morning, so the mail-boy told 
 me. You may have met him at the station." 
 
 "Oh, yes ; to be sure ; so I did !" I replied. I was not
 
 202 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 as good a liar as Bates; and there was nothing to be 
 gained by denying that I had met the executor in the 
 village. "I had a very pleasant talk with him. He was 
 on the way to California with several friends." 
 
 "That is quite his way, I understand, private cars 
 and long journeys about the country. A very success 
 ful man is Mr. Pickering. Your grandfather had great 
 confidence in him, did Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "Ah, yes ! A fine judge of character my grandfather 
 was ! I guess John Marshall Glenarm could spot a ras 
 cal about as far as any man in his day." 
 
 I felt like letting myself go before this masked scoun 
 drel. The density of his mask was an increasing won 
 der to me. Bates was the most incomprehensible hu 
 man being I had ever known. I had been torn with a 
 thousand conflicting emotions since I overheard him dis 
 cussing the state of affairs at Glenarm House with 
 Pickering in the chapel porch; and Pickering's ac 
 quaintance with the girl in gray brought new elements 
 into the affair that added to my uneasiness. But here 
 was a treasonable dog on whom the stress of conspiracy 
 had no outward effect whatever. 
 
 It was an amazing situation, but it called for calm 
 ness and eternal vigilance. With every hour my resolu 
 tion grew to stand fast and fight it out on my own ac-
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 203 
 
 count without outside help. A thousand times during 
 the afternoon I had heard the voice of the girl in gray 
 saying to me: "You are a man, and I have heard that 
 you have had some experience in taking care of yourself, 
 Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 It was both a warning and a challenge, and the mem 
 ory of the words was at once sobering and cheering. 
 
 Bates waited. Of him, certainly, I should ask no 
 questions touching Olivia Armstrong. To discuss her 
 with a blackguard servant even to gain answers to baf 
 fling questions about her was not to my liking. And, 
 thank God ! I taught myself one thing, if nothing 
 more, in those days at Glenarm House: I learned to 
 bide my time. 
 
 "I'll give you a note to Mr. Stoddard in the morning. 
 You may go now." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The note was written and despatched. The chaplain 
 was not at his lodgings, and Bates reported that he had 
 left the message. The answer came presently by the 
 hand of the Scotch gardener, Ferguson, a short, wiry, 
 raw-boned specimen. I happened to open the door my 
 self, and brought him into the library until I could read 
 Stoddard's reply. Ferguson had, I thought, an uneasy 
 eye, and his hair, of an ugly carrot color, annoyed me.
 
 204 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 Mr. Paul Stoddard presented his compliments and 
 would be delighted to dine with me. He wrote a large 
 even hand, as frank and open as himself. 
 
 "That is all, Ferguson/' And the gardener took him 
 self off. 
 
 Thus it came about that Stoddard and I faced each 
 other across the table in the refectory that same even 
 ing under the lights of a great candelabrum which 
 Bates had produced from the store-room below. And 
 I may say here, that while there was a slight hitch some 
 times in the delivery of supplies from the village; 
 while the fish which Bates caused to be shipped from 
 Chicago for delivery every Friday morning failed once 
 or twice, and while the grape-fruit for breakfast 
 was not always what it should have been, the sup 
 ply of candles seemed inexhaustible. They were pro 
 duced in every shade and size. There were enormous 
 ones, such as I had never seen outside of a Eussian 
 church, and one of the rooms in the cellar was filled 
 with boxes of them. The House of a Thousand Can 
 dles deserved and proved its name. 
 
 Bates had certainly risen to the occasion. Silver and 
 crystal of which I had not known before glistened on 
 the table, and on the sideboard two huge candelabra 
 added to the festival air of the little room.
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 205 
 
 Stoddard laughed as he glanced about. 
 
 "Here I have been feeling sorry for you, and yet you 
 are living like a prince. I didn't know there was so 
 much splendor in all Wabana County." 
 
 "I'm a trifle dazzled myself. Bates has tapped a new 
 cellar somewhere. I'm afraid I'm not a good house 
 keeper, to speak truthfully. There are times when I 
 hate the house; when it seems wholly ridiculous, the 
 whim of an eccentric old man; and then again I'm ac 
 tually afraid that I like its seclusion." 
 
 "Your seclusion is better than mine. You know my 
 little two-room affair behind the chapel, only a few 
 books and a punching bag. That chapel also is one of 
 your grandfather's whims. He provided that all the 
 offices of the church must be said there daily or the 
 endowment is stopped. Mr. Glenarm lived in the past, 
 or liked to think he did. I suppose you know or maybe 
 you don't know how I came to have this appointment ?" 
 
 "Indeed, I should like to know." 
 
 We had reached the soup, and Bates was changing 
 our plates with his accustomed light hand. 
 
 "It was my name that did the business, Paul. A 
 bishop had recommended a man whose given name was 
 Ethelbert, a decent enough name and one that you 
 might imagine would appeal to Mr. Glenarm; but he
 
 206 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 rejected him because the name might too easily be cut 
 down to Ethel, a name which, he said, was very distaste 
 ful to him." 
 
 "That is characteristic. The dear old gentleman!" I 
 exclaimed with real feeling. 
 
 "But he reckoned without his host," Stoddard con 
 tinued. "The young ladies, I have lately learned, call 
 me Pauline, as a mark of regard or otherwise, prob 
 ably otherwise. I give two lectures a week on church 
 history, and I fear my course isn't popular." 
 
 "But it is something, on the other hand, to be in touch 
 with such an institution. They are a very sightly com 
 pany, those girls. I enjoy watching them across the 
 garden wall. And I had a closer view of them at the 
 station this morning, when you ran off and deserted 
 me." 
 
 He laughed, his big wholesome cheering laugh. 
 
 "I take good care not to see much of them so 
 cially." 
 
 "Afraid of the eternal feminine ?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose I am. I'm preparing to go into a 
 Brotherhood, as you probably don't know. And girls 
 are distracting." 
 
 I glanced at my companion with a new inquiry and 
 interest. 
 
 "I didn't know," I said.
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 207 
 
 "Yes; I'm spending my year in studies that I may 
 never have a chance for hereafter. I'm going into an 
 order whose members work hard." 
 
 He spoke as though he were planning a summer out 
 ing. I had not sat at meat with a clergyman since the 
 death of my parents broke up our old home in Vermont, 
 and my attitude toward the cloth was, I fear, one of 
 antagonism dating from those days. 
 
 "Well, I saw Pickering after all," I remarked. 
 
 "Yes, I saw him, too. What is it in his case, genius 
 or good luck ?" 
 
 "I'm not a competent witness," I answered. "I'll be 
 frank with you: I don't like him; I don't believe in 
 him." 
 
 "Oh ! I beg your pardon. I didn't know, of course." 
 
 "The subject is not painful to me," I hastened to 
 add, "though he was always rather thrust before me as 
 an ideal back in my youth, and you know how fatal that 
 is. And then the gods of success have opened all the 
 gates for him." 
 
 "Yes, and yet" 
 
 "And yet " I repeated. Stoddard lifted a glass of 
 sherry to the light and studied it for a moment. He did 
 not drink wine, but was not, I found, afraid to look 
 at it. 
 
 "And yet," he said, putting down the glass and speak-
 
 208 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 ing slowly, "when the gates of good fortune open too 
 readily and smoothly, they may close sometimes rather 
 too quickly and snap a man's coat-tails. Please don't 
 think I'm going to afflict you with shavings of wisdom 
 from the shop-floor, but life wasn't intended to be too 
 easy. The spirit of man needs arresting and chasten 
 ing. It doesn't flourish under too much fostering or 
 too much of what we call good luck. I'm disposed to 
 be afraid of good luck." 
 
 "I've never tried it," I said laughingly. 
 
 "I am not looking for it," and he spoke soberly. 
 
 I could not talk of Pickering with Bates the masked 
 beggar ! in the room, so I changed the subject. 
 
 "I suppose you impose penances, prescribe discipline 
 for the girls at St. Agatha's, an agreeable exercise of 
 the priestly office, I should say !" 
 
 His laugh was pleasant and rang true. I was liking 
 him better the more I saw of him. 
 
 "Bless you, no! I am not venerable enough. The 
 Sisters attend to all that, and a fine company of 
 women they are !" 
 
 "But there must be obstinate cases. One of the 
 young ladies confided to me I tell you this in cloistral 
 confidence that she was being deported for insubordi 
 nation." 
 
 "Ah, that must be Olivia! Well, her case is differ-
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA' 
 
 eni She is not one girl, she is many kinds of a girl 
 in one. I fear Sister Theresa lost her patience and 
 hardened her heart." 
 
 "I should like to intercede for Miss Armstrong," I 
 declared. 
 
 The surprise showed in his face, and I added : 
 
 "Pray don't misunderstand me. We met under 
 rather curious circumstances, Miss Armstrong and I." 
 
 "She is usually met under rather unconventional cir 
 cumstances, I believe," he remarked dryly. "My intro 
 duction to her came through the kitten she smuggled 
 into the alms box of the chapel. It took me two days 
 to find it." 
 
 He smiled ruefully at the recollection. 
 
 "She's a young woman of spirit," I declared defen 
 sively. "She simply must find an outlet for the joy of 
 youth, paddling a canoe, chasing rabbits through the 
 snow, placing kittens in durance vile. But she's de 
 mure enough when she pleases, and a satisfaction to 
 the eye." 
 
 My heart warmed at the memory of Olivia. Verily 
 the chaplain was right she was many girls in one ! 
 
 Stoddard dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee. 
 
 "Miss Devereux begged hard for her, but Sister The 
 resa couldn't afford to keep her. Her influence on the 
 other girls was bad."
 
 210 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "That's to Miss Devereux's credit," I replied. "You 
 needn't wait, Bates." 
 
 "Olivia was too popular. All the other girls indulged 
 her. And I'll concede that she's pretty. That gipsy 
 face of hers bodes ill to the hearts of men if she ever 
 grows up." 
 
 "I shouldn't exactly call it a gipsy face; and how 
 much more should you expect her to grow ? At twenty 
 a woman's grown, isn't she ?" 
 
 He looked at me quizzically. 
 
 "Fifteen, you mean ! Olivia Armstrong that little 
 witch the kid that has kept the school in turmoil all 
 the fall?" 
 
 There was decided emphasis in his interrogations. 
 
 "I'm glad your glasses are full, or I should say " 
 
 There was, I think, a little heat for a moment on both 
 sides. 
 
 "The wires are evidently crossed somewhere," he said 
 calmly. "My Olivia Armstrong is a droll child from 
 Cincinnati, whose escapades caused her to be sent home 
 for discipline to-day. She's a little mite who just about 
 comes to the lapel of your coat, her eyes are as black 
 as midnight ; 
 
 "Then she didn't talk to Pickering and his friends 
 at the station this morning the prettiest girl in the
 
 THE PASSING OF OLIVIA 1 211 
 
 world gray hat, gray coat, blue eyes? You can have 
 your Olivia ; but who, will you tell me, is mine ?" 
 
 I pounded with my clenched hand on the table until 
 the candles rattled and sputtered. 
 
 Stoddard stared at me for a moment as though he 
 thought I had lost my wits. Then he lay back in his 
 chair and roared. I rose, bending across the table to 
 ward him in my eagerness. A suspicion had leaped into 
 my mind, and my heart was pounding as it roused a 
 thousand questions. 
 
 "The blue-eyed young woman in gray? Bless your 
 heart, man, Olivia is a child; I talked to her myself on 
 the platform. You were talking to Miss Devereux. 
 She isn't Olivia, she's Marian !" 
 
 "Then, who is Marian Devereux where does she 
 live what is she doing here ?" 
 
 "Well," he laughed, "to answer your questions in or 
 der, she's a young woman; her home is New York; 
 she has no near kinfolk except Sister Theresa, so she 
 spends some of her time here." 
 
 "Teaches music " 
 
 "Not that I ever heard of ! She does a lot of things 
 well, takes cups in golf tournaments and is the nim 
 blest hand at tennis you ever saw. Also, she's a fine 
 musician and plays the organ tremendously."
 
 212 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Well, she told me she was Olivia!" I said. 
 
 "I should think she would, when you refused to meet 
 her; when you had ignored her and Sister Theresa, 
 hoth of them among your grandfather's best friends, 
 and your nearest neighbors here !" 
 
 "My grandfather be hanged! Of course I couldn't 
 know her! We can't live on the same earth. I'm in 
 her way, hanging on to this property here just to defeat 
 her, when she's the finest girl alive !" 
 
 He nodded gravely, his eyes bent upon me with sym 
 pathy and kindness. The past events at Glenarm 
 swept through my mind in kinetoscopic flashes, but the 
 girl in gray talking to Arthur Pickering and his 
 friends at the Annandale station, the girl in gray who 
 had been an eavesdropper at the chapel, the girl in 
 gray with the eyes of blue ! It seemed that a year passed 
 before I broke the silence. 
 
 "Where has she gone ?" I demanded. 
 
 He smiled, and I was cheered by the mirth that 
 showed in his face. 
 
 "Why, she's gone to Cincinnati, with Olivia Gladys 
 Armstrong," he said. "They're great chums, you 
 know I"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SISTER THERESA 
 
 There was further information I wished to obtain, 
 and I did not blush to pluck it from Stoddard before 
 I let him go that night. Olivia Gladys Armstrong lived 
 in Cincinnati; her father was a wealthy physician at 
 Walnut Hills. Stoddard knew the family, and I asked 
 questions about them, their antecedents and place of 
 residence that were not perhaps impertinent in view of 
 the fact that I had never consciously set eyes on their 
 daughter in my life. As I look back upon it now my 
 information secured at that time, touching the history 
 and social position of the Armstrongs of Walnut Hills, 
 Cincinnati, seems excessive, but the curiosity which the 
 Reverend Paul Stoddard satisfied with so little trouble 
 to himself was of immediate interest and importance. 
 As to the girl in gray I found him far more difficult. 
 She was Marian Devereux; she was a niece of Sister 
 Theresa; her home was in New York, with another 
 aunt, her parents being dead; and she was a frequent 
 visitor at St. Agatha's. 
 
 213
 
 214 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 The wayward Olivia and she were on excellent terms, 
 and when it seemed wisest for that vivacious youngster 
 to retire from school at the mid-year recess Miss Dever- 
 eux had accompanied her home, ostensibly for a visit, 
 but really to break the force of the blow. It was a pretty 
 story, and enhanced my already high opinion of Miss 
 Devereux, while at the same time I admired the un 
 known Olivia Gladys none the less. 
 
 When Stoddard left me I dug out of a drawer my 
 copy of John Marshall Glenarnr s will and re-read it for 
 the first time since Pickering gave it to me in New 
 York. There was one provision to which I had not 
 given a single thought, and when I had smoothed the 
 thin type-written sheets upon the table in my room I 
 read it over and over again, construing it in a new light 
 with every reading. 
 
 Provided, further, that in the event of the marriage of 
 said John Glenarm to the said Marian Devereux, or in the 
 event of any promise or contract of marriage between said 
 persons within five years from the date of said John Glen- 
 arm's acceptance of the provisions of this will, the whole 
 estate shall become the property absolutely of St. Agatha's 
 School at Annandale, Wabana County, Indiana, a corpora 
 tion under the laws of said state. 
 
 "Bully for the old boy!" I muttered finally, folding 
 the copy with something akin to reverence for my 
 grandfather's shrewdness in closing so many doors up-
 
 SISTER THERESA 215 
 
 on his heirs. It required no lawyer to interpret this 
 paragraph. If I could not secure his estate by settling 
 at Glenarm for a year I was not to gain it by marrying 
 the alternative heir. Here, clearly, was not one of those 
 situations so often contrived by novelists, in which the 
 luckless heir presumptive, cut off without a cent, weds 
 the pretty cousin who gets the fortune and they live 
 happily together ever afterward. John Marshall Glen- 
 arm had explicitly provided against any such frustra 
 tion of his plans. 
 
 "Bully for you, John Marshall Glenarm!" I rose 
 and bowed low to his photograph. 
 
 On top of my mail next morning lay a small envelope, 
 unstamped, and addressed to me in a free running hand. 
 
 "Ferguson left it," explained Bates. 
 
 I opened and read : 
 
 If convenient will Mr. Glenarm kindly look in at St. 
 Agatha's some day this week at four o'clock. Sister The 
 resa wishes to see him. 
 
 I whistled softly. My feelings toward Sister Theresa 
 had been those of utter repugnance and antagonism. I 
 had been avoiding her studiously and was not a little 
 surprised that she should seek an interview with me. 
 Quite possibly she wished to inquire how soon I expected 
 to abandon Glenarm House; or perhaps she wished to
 
 216 THE HOUSE OF 'A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 admonish me as to the perils of my soul. In any event 
 I liked the quality of her note, and I was curious to 
 know why she sent for me; moreover, Marian Devereux 
 was her niece and that was wholly in the Sister's favor. 
 
 At four o'clock I passed into St. Agatha territory 
 and rang the bell at the door of the building where I 
 had left Olivia the evening I found her in the chapel. 
 A Sister admitted me, led the way to a small reception- 
 room where, I imagined, the visiting parent was re 
 ceived, and left me. I felt a good deal like a school 
 boy who has been summoned before a severe master for 
 discipline. I was idly beating my hat with my gloves 
 when a quick step sounded in the hall and instantly a 
 brown-clad figure appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm?" 
 
 It was a deep, rich voice, a voice of assurance, a 
 voice, may I say? of the world, a voice, too, may I 
 add? of a woman who is likely to say what she means 
 without ado. The white band at her forehead brought 
 into relief two wonderful gray eyes that were alight 
 with kindliness. She surveyed me a moment, then her 
 lips parted in a smile. 
 
 "This room is rather forbidding; if you will come 
 with me " 
 
 She turned with an air of authority that was a part 
 of her undeniable distinction, and I was seated a mo-
 
 SISTER THERESA 
 
 ment later in a pretty sitting-room, whose windows 
 gave a view of the dark wood and frozen lake beyond. 
 
 "I'm afraid, Mr. Glenarm, that you are not disposed 
 to he neighborly, and you must pardon me if I seem to 
 be pursuing you." 
 
 Her smile, her voice, her manner were charming. I 
 had pictured her a sour old woman, who had hidden 
 away from a world that had offered her no pleasure. 
 
 "The apologies must all be on my side, Sister The 
 resa. I have been greatly occupied since coming here, 
 distressed and perplexed even." 
 
 "Our young ladies treasure the illusion that there 
 are ghosts at your house/' she said, with a smile that 
 disposed of the matter. 
 
 She folded her slim white hands on her knees and 
 spoke with a simple directness. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, there is something I wish to say to 
 you, but I can say it only if we are to be friends. I 
 have feared you might look upon us here as enemies." 
 
 "That is a strong word," I replied evasively. 
 
 "Let me say to you that I hope very much that noth 
 ing will prevent your inheriting all that Mr. Glenarm 
 wished you to have from him." 
 
 "Thank you; that is both kind and generous," I said 
 with no little surprise. 
 
 "Not in the least. I should be disloyal to your grand-
 
 218 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 father, who was ray friend and the friend of my family, 
 if I did not feel kindly toward you and wish you well. 
 And I must say for my niece " 
 
 "Miss Devereux." I found a certain pleasure in pro 
 nouncing her name. 
 
 "Miss Devereux is very greatly disturbed over the 
 good intentions of your grandfather in placing her name 
 in his will. You can doubtless understand how uncom 
 fortable a person of any sensibility would be under the 
 circumstances. I'm sorry you have never met her. She 
 is a very charming young woman whose happiness does 
 not, I may say, depend on other people's money." 
 
 She had never told, then! I smiled at the recollec 
 tion of our interviews. 
 
 "I am sure that is true. Sister Theresa." 
 
 "Now I wish to speak to you about a matter of some 
 delicacy. It is, I understand perfectly, no business of 
 mine how much of a fortune Mr. Glenarm left. But 
 this matter has been brought to my attention in a dis 
 agreeable way. Your grandfather established this 
 school; he gave most of the money for these buildings. 
 I had other friends who offered to contribute, but he in 
 sisted on doing it all. But now Mr. Pickering insists 
 that the money or part of it at least was only a loan." 
 
 "Yes; I understand." 
 
 "Mr. Pickering tells me that he has no alternative in
 
 SISTER THERESA 219 
 
 the matter; that the law requires him to collect this 
 money as a debt due the estate." 
 
 "That is undoubtedly true, as a general proposition. 
 He told me in New York that he had a claim against 
 you for fifty thousand dollars." 
 
 "Yes ; that is the amount. I wish to say to you, Mr. 
 Glenarm, that if it is necessary I can pay that amount.'* 
 
 "Pray do not trouble about it, Sister Theresa. There 
 are a good many things about my grandfather's affairs 
 that I don't understand, but I'm not going to see an 
 old friend of his swindled. There's more in all this 
 than appears. My grandfather seems to have mislaid 
 or lost most of his assets before he died. And yet he 
 had the reputation of being a pretty cautious business 
 man." 
 
 "The impression is abroad, as you must know, that 
 your grandfather concealed his fortune before his 
 death. The people hereabouts believe so ; and Mr. Pick 
 ering, the executor, has been unable to trace it." 
 
 "Yes, I believe Mr. Pickering has not been able to 
 solve the problem," I said and laughed. 
 
 "But, of course, you and he will cooperate in an effort 
 to find the lost property." 
 
 She bent forward slightly; her eyes, as they met 
 mine, examined me with a keen interest. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I be frank with you, Sister Theresa ?
 
 220 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 I have every reason for believing Arthur Pickering a 
 scoundrel. He does not care to cooperate with me in 
 searching for this money. The fact is that he very 
 much wishes to eliminate me as a factor in the settle 
 ment of the estate. I speak carefully; I know exactly 
 what I am saying." 
 
 She bowed her head slightly and was silent for a mo 
 ment. The silence was the more marked from the fact 
 that the hood of her habit concealed her face. 
 
 "What you say is very serious." 
 
 "Yes, and his offense is equally serious. It may 
 seem odd for me to be saying this to you when I am a 
 stranger; when you may be pardoned for having no 
 very high opinion of me." 
 
 She turned her face to me, it was singularly gentle 
 and refined, not a face to associate with an idea of 
 self-seeking or duplicity. 
 
 "I sent for you, Mr. Glenarm, because I had a very 
 good opinion of you; because, for one reason, you are 
 the grandson of your grandfather," and the friendly 
 light in her gray eyes drove away any lingering doubt 
 I may have had as to her sincerity. "I wished to warn 
 you to have a care for your own safety. I don't warn 
 you against Arthur Pickering alone, but against the 
 countryside. The idea of a hidden fortune is alluring; 
 a mysterious house and a lost treasure make a very en-
 
 SISTER THERESA 221 
 
 ticing combination. I fancy Mr. Glenarm did not re 
 alize that he was creating dangers for the people he 
 wished to help." 
 
 She was silent again, her eyes bent meditatively upon 
 me ; then she spoke abruptly. 
 
 "Mr. Pickering wishes to marry my niece." 
 
 "Ah ! I have been waiting to hear that. I am ex 
 ceedingly glad to know that he has so noble an ambition. 
 But Miss Devereux isn't encouraging him, as near as 
 I can make out. She refused to go to California with 
 his party I happen to know that." 
 
 "That whole California episode would have been 
 amusing if it had not been ridiculous. Marian never 
 had the slightest idea of going with him; but she is 
 sometimes a little shall I say perverse? " 
 
 "Please do ! I like the word and the quality !" 
 
 " and Mr. Pickering's rather elaborate methods of 
 wooing " 
 
 "He's as heavy as lead !" I declared. 
 
 " amuse Marian up to a certain point ; then they an 
 noy her. He has implied pretty strongly that the claim 
 against me could be easily adjusted if Marian marries 
 him. But she will never marry him, whether she bene 
 fits by your grandfather's will or however that may be !" 
 
 "I should say not," I declared with a warmth that 
 caused Sister Theresa to sweep me warily with those
 
 222 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 wonderful gray eyes. "But first he expects to find this 
 fortune and endow Miss Devereux with it. That is a 
 part of the scheme. And my own interest in the estate 
 must be eliminated before he can bring that condition 
 about. But, Sister Theresa, I am not so easily got rid 
 of as Arthur Pickering imagines. My staying qualities, 
 which were always weak in the eyes of my family, have 
 been braced up a trifle." 
 
 "Yes." I thought pleasure and hope were expressed 
 in the monosyllable, and my heart warmed to her. 
 
 "Sister Theresa, you and I are understanding each 
 other much better than I imagined we should," and 
 we both laughed, feeling a real sympathy growing be 
 tween us. 
 
 "Yes; I believe we are," and the smile lighted her 
 face again. 
 
 "So I can tell you two things. The first is that Ar 
 thur Pickering will never find my grandfather's lost 
 fortune, assuming that any exists. The second is that 
 in no event will he marry your niece." 
 
 "You speak with a good deal of confidence," she said, 
 and laughed a low murmuring laugh. I thought there 
 was relief in it. "But I didn't suppose Marian's af 
 fairs interested you." 
 
 "They don't, Sister Theresa. Her affairs are not of 
 the slightest importance, but she is !"
 
 SISTER THERESA 1 223 
 
 There was frank inquiry in her eyes now. 
 
 "But you don't know her, you have missed your 
 opportunity." 
 
 "To be sure, I don't know her; hut I know Olivia 
 Gladys Armstrong. She's a particular friend of mine, 
 we have chased rabbits together, and she told me a 
 great deal. I have formed a very good opinion of Miss 
 Devereux in that way. Oh, that note you wrote about 
 Olivia's intrusions beyond the wall! I should thank 
 you for it, but I really didn't mind." 
 
 "A note ? I never wrote you a note until to-day !" 
 
 "Well, some one did !" I said ; then she smiled. 
 
 "Oh, that must have been Marian. She was always 
 Olivia's loyal friend !" 
 
 "I should say so !" 
 
 Sister Theresa laughed merrily. 
 
 "But you shouldn't have known Olivia, it is unpar 
 donable ! If she played tricks upon you, you should not 
 have taken advantage of them to make her acquaintance. 
 That wasn't fair to me !" 
 
 "I suppose not ! But I protest against this deporta 
 tion. The landscape hereabouts is only so much sky, 
 snow and lumber without her." 
 
 "We miss her, too," replied Sister Theresa. "We have 
 less to do !" 
 
 "And still I protest!" I declared, rising. "Sister
 
 224: THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 Theresa, I thank you with all my heart for what you 
 have said to me, for the disposition to say it! And 
 this debt to the estate is something, I promise you, that 
 shall not trouble you." 
 
 "Then there's a truce between us! We are not ene 
 mies at all now, are we ?" 
 
 "No; for Olivia's sake, at least, we shall be friends." 
 I went home and studied the time-table.
 
 CHAPTEK XVIII 
 
 GOLDEN BUTTERFLIES 
 
 If you are one of those captious people who must 
 verify by the calendar every new moon you read of in 
 a book, and if you are pained to discover the historian 
 lifting anchor and spreading sail contrary to the reck 
 onings of the nautical almanac, I beg to call your at 
 tention to these items from the time-table of the Mid- 
 Western and Southern Eailway for December, 1901. 
 
 The south-bound express passed Annandale at exactly 
 fifty-three minutes after four p. M. It was scheduled 
 to reach Cincinnati at eleven o'clock sharp. These 
 items are, I trust, sufficiently explicit. 
 
 To the student of morals and motives I will say a 
 further word. I had resolved to practise deception in 
 running away from Glenarm House to keep my prom 
 ise to Marian Devereux. By leaving I should forfeit 
 my right to any part of my grandfather's estate; I 
 knew that and accepted the issue without regret; but I 
 had no intention of surrendering Glenarm House to 
 Arthur Pickering, particularly now that I realized how 
 
 225
 
 226 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 completely I had placed myself in his trap. I felt, 
 moreover, a duty to my dead grandfather; and not 
 least the attacks of Morgan and the strange ways of 
 Bates had stirred whatever fighting hlood there was in 
 me. Pickering and I were engaged in a sharp contest, 
 and I was beginning to enjoy it to the full, but I did not 
 falter in my determination to visit Cincinnati, hoping 
 to return without my absence being discovered; so the 
 next afternoon I began preparing for my journey. 
 
 "Bates, I fear that I'm taking a severe cold and I'm 
 going to dose myself with whisky and quinine and go 
 to bed. I shan't want any dinner, nothing until you 
 see me again." 
 
 I yawned and stretched myself with a groan. 
 
 "I'm very sorry, sir. Shan't I call a doctor?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it. I'll sleep it off and be as lively as 
 a cricket in the morning." 
 
 At four o'clock I told him to carry some hot water 
 and lemons to my room; bade him an emphatic good 
 night and locked the door as he left. Then I packed 
 my evening clothes in a suit-case. I threw the bag and 
 a heavy ulster from a window, swung myself out upon 
 the limb of a big maple and let it bend under me to its 
 sharpest curve and then dropped lightly to the ground. 
 
 I passed the gate and struck off toward the village 
 with a joyful sense of freedom. When I reached the
 
 GOLDEN BUTTEKFLIES 227 
 
 station I sought at once the south-bound platform, not 
 wishing to be seen buying a ticket. 'A few other pas 
 sengers were assembling, but I saw no one I recognized. 
 Number six, I heard the agent say, was on time; and 
 in a few minutes it came roaring up. I bought a seat 
 in the Washington sleeper and went into the dining-car 
 for supper. The train was full of people hurrying to 
 various ports for the holidays, but they had, I reflected, 
 no advantage over me. I 2 too, was bound on a definite 
 errand, though my journey was, I imagined, less com 
 monplace in its character than the homing flight of 
 most of my fellow travelers. 
 
 I made myself comfortable and dozed and dreamed as 
 the train plunged through the dark. There was a wait, 
 with much shifting of cars, where we crossed the Wa- 
 bash, then we sped on. It grew warmer as we drew 
 southward, and the conductor was confident we should 
 reach Cincinnati on time. The through passengers about 
 me went to bed, and I was left sprawled out in my open 
 section, lurking on the shadowy frontier between the 
 known world and dreamland. 
 
 "We're running into Cincinnati ten minutes late," 
 said the porter's voice; and in a moment I was in the 
 vestibule and out, hurrying to a hotel. r At the St. 
 Botolph I ordered a carriage and broke all records 
 changing my clothes. The time-table informed me that
 
 228 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 the Northern express left at half-past one. There -was 
 no reason why I should not be safe at Glenarm House 
 by my usual breakfast hour if all went well. To avoid 
 loss of time in returning to the station I paid the hotel 
 charge and carried my bag away with me. 
 
 "Doctor Armstrong's residence? Yes, sir; Fve al 
 ready taken one load there." 
 
 The carriage was soon climbing what seemed to be a 
 mountain to the heights above Cincinnati. To this day 
 I associate Ohio's most interesting city with a lonely 
 carriage ride that seemed to be chiefly uphill, through 
 a region that was as strange to me as a trackless jungle 
 in the wilds of Africa. And my heart began to perform 
 strange tattoos on my ribs. I was going to the house 
 of a gentleman who did not know of my existence, to 
 see a girl who was his guest, to whom I had never, as 
 the conventions go, been presented. It did not seem 
 half so easy, now that I was well launched upon the ad 
 venture. 
 
 I stopped the cabman just as he was about to enter 
 an iron gateway whose posts bore two great lamps. 
 "That is all right, sir. I can drive right in." 
 "But you needn't," I said, jumping out. "Wait here." 
 Doctor Armstrong's residence was brilliantly lighted, 
 and the strains of a waltz stole across the lawn cheerily. 
 Several carriages swept past me as I followed the walk.
 
 GOLDEN BUTTEKFLIES' 229 
 
 I was arriving at a fashionable hour it was nearly 
 twelve and just how to effect an entrance without be 
 ing thrown out as an interloper was a formidable prob 
 lem, now that I had reached the house. I must catch 
 my train home, and this left no margin for explanation 
 to an outraged host whose first impulse would very 
 likely be to turn me over to the police. 
 
 I made a detour and studied the house, seeking a 
 door by which I could enter without passing the un 
 friendly Gibraltar of a host and hostess on guard to 
 welcome belated guests. 
 
 A long conservatory filled with tropical plants gave 
 me my opportunity. Promenaders went idly through 
 and out into another part of the house by an exit I 
 could not see. A handsome, spectacled gentleman 
 opened a glass door within a yard of where I stood, 
 sniffed the air, and said to his companion, as he turned 
 back with a shrug into the conservatory : 
 
 "There's no sign of snow. It isn't Christmas weather 
 at all." 
 
 He strolled away through the palms, and I instantly 
 threw off my ulster and hat, cast them behind some 
 bushes, and boldly opened the door and entered. 
 
 The ball-room was on the third floor, but the guests 
 were straggling down to supper, and I took my stand 
 at the foot of the broad stairway and glanced up care-
 
 230 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 lessly, as though waiting for some one. It was a large 
 and brilliant company and many a lovely face passed 
 me as I stood waiting. The very size of the gathering 
 gave me security, and I smoothed my gloves com 
 placently. 
 
 The spectacled gentleman whose breath of night air 
 had given me a valued hint of the open conservatory 
 door came now and stood beside me. He even put his 
 hand on my arm with intimate friendliness. 
 
 There was a sound of mirth and scampering feet in 
 the hall above and then down the steps, between the 
 lines of guests arrested in their descent, came a dark 
 laughing girl in the garb of Little Eed Riding Hood, 
 amid general applause and laughter. 
 
 "It's Olivia! She's won the wager!" exclaimed the 
 spectacled gentleman, and the girl, whose dark curls 
 were shaken about her face, ran up to us and threw 
 her arms about him and kissed him. It was a charming 
 picture, the figures on the stairway, the pretty grace 
 ful child, the eager, happy faces all about. I was too 
 much interested by this scene of the comedy to be un 
 comfortable. 
 
 Then, at the top of the stair, her height accented by 
 her gown of white, stood Marian Devereux, hesitating 
 an instant, as a bird pauses before taking wing, and then 
 laughingly running between the lines to where Olivia
 
 At the top of the stair, her height accented by her gown of white, 
 stood Marian Devereux. Page 2 JO
 
 GOLDEN BUTTEEFLIES 231 
 
 faced her in mock abjection. To the charm of the girl 
 in the woodland was added now the dignity of beauti 
 ful womanhood, and my heart leaped at the thought 
 that I had ever spoken to her, that I was there because 
 she had taunted me with the risk of coming. 
 
 Above, on the stair landing, a deep-toned clock began 
 to strike midnight and every one cried "Merry Christ 
 mas!" and "Olivia's won!" and there was more hand- 
 clapping, in which I joined with good will. 
 
 Some one behind me was explaining what had just 
 occurred. Olivia, the youngest daughter of the house, 
 had been denied a glimpse of the ball; Miss Devereux 
 had made a wager with her host that Olivia would ap 
 pear before midnight ; and Olivia had defeated the plot 
 against her, and gained the main hall at the stroke of 
 Christmas. 
 
 "Good night! Good night!" called Olivia the real 
 Olivia in derision to the company, and turned and ran 
 back through the applauding, laughing throng. 
 
 The spectacled gentleman was Olivia's father, and he 
 mockingly rebuked Marian Devereux for having en 
 couraged an infraction of parental discipline, while she 
 was twitting him upon the loss of his wager. Then her 
 eyes rested upon me for the first time. She smiled 
 slightly, but continued talking placidly to her host. 
 The situation did not please me; I had not traveled so
 
 232 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 far and burglariously entered Doctor Armstrong's house 
 in quest of a girl with blue eyes merely to stand by while 
 she talked to another man. 
 
 I drew nearer, impatiently; and was conscious that 
 four other young men in white waistcoats and gloves 
 quite as irreproachable as my own stood ready to claim 
 her the instant she was free. I did not propose to be 
 thwarted by the beaux of Cincinnati, so I stepped to 
 ward Doctor Armstrong. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Doctor ," I said with an as 
 surance for which I blush to this hour. 
 
 "All right, my boy ; I, too, have been in Arcady !" he 
 exclaimed in cheerful apology, and she put her hand 
 on my arm and I led her away. 
 
 "He called me 'my boy/ so I must be passing muster," 
 I remarked, not daring to look at her. 
 
 "He's afraid not to recognize you. His inability to 
 remember faces is a town joke." 
 
 We reached a quiet corner of the great hall and I 
 found a seat for her. 
 
 "You don't seem surprised to see me, you knew I 
 would come. I should have come across the world for 
 this, for just this." 
 
 Her eyes were grave at once. 
 
 "TVhy did you come? I did not think yon were so
 
 GOLDEN" BUTTERFLIES' 233 
 
 foolish. This is all so wretched, so unfortunate. You 
 didn't know that Mr. Pickering Mr. Pickering " 
 
 She was greatly distressed and this name came from 
 her chokingly. 
 
 "Yes ; what of him ?" I laughed. "He is well on his 
 way to California, and without you !" 
 
 She spoke hurriedly, eagerly, bending toward me. 
 
 "No you don't know you don't understand he's 
 here; he abandoned his California trip at Chicago; he 
 telegraphed me to expect him here to-night! You 
 must go at once, at once !" 
 
 "Ah, but you can't frighten me," I said, trying to 
 realize just what a meeting with Pickering in that house 
 might mean. 
 
 "No," she looked anxiously about, "they were to 
 arrive late, he and the Taylors; they know the Arm 
 strongs quite well. They may come at any moment 
 now. Please go !" 
 
 "But I have only a few minutes myself, you 
 wouldn't have me sit them out in the station down 
 town? There are some things I have come to say, and 
 Arthur Pickering and I are not afraid of each other I" 
 
 "But you must not meet him here ! Think what that 
 \7ould mean to me ! You are very foolhardy, Mr. Glen- 
 arm. I had no idea you would come "
 
 "But you wished to try me, you challenged me." 
 
 "That wasn't me, it was Olivia," she laughed, more 
 at ease, "I thought " 
 
 "Yes, what did you think?" I asked. "That I was 
 tied hand and foot by a dead man's money ?" 
 
 "No, it wasn't that wretched fortune; but I enjoyed 
 playing the child before you I really love Olivia and 
 it seemed that the fairies were protecting me and that 
 I could play being a child to the very end of the chap 
 ter without any real mischief coming of it. I wish 
 I were Olivia !" she declared, her eyes away from me. 
 
 "That's rather idle. I'm not really sure yet what 
 your name is, and I don't care. Let's imagine that we 
 haven't any names, I'm sure my name isn't of any 
 use, and I'll be glad to go nameless all my days if 
 only-" 
 
 "If only " she repeated idly, opening and closing 
 her fan. It was a frail blue trifle, painted in golden 
 butterflies. 
 
 "There are so many 'if onlies' that I hesitate to 
 choose; but I will venture one. If only you will come 
 back to St. Agatha's ! Not to-morrow, or the next day, 
 but, say, with the first bluebirds. I believe they are 
 the harbingers up there." 
 
 Her very ease was a balm to my spirit; she was now
 
 GOLDEN BUTTERFLIES 235 
 
 a veritable daughter of repose. One arm in its long 
 white sheath lay quiet in her lap; her right hand held 
 the golden butterflies against the soft curve of her cheek. 
 A collar of pearls clasped her throat and accented the 
 clear girlish lines of her profile. I felt the appeal of 
 her youth and purity. It was like a cry in my heart, 
 and I forgot the dreary house by the lake, and Picker 
 ing and the weeks within the stone walls of my prison. 
 
 'The friends who know me best never expect me to 
 promise to be anywhere at a given time. I can't tell; 
 perhaps I shall follow the bluebirds to Indiana; but 
 why should I, when I can't play being Olivia any 
 more?" 
 
 "No! I am very dull. That note of apology you 
 wrote from the school really fooled me. But I have 
 seen the real Olivia now. I don't want you to go too 
 far not where I can't follow this flight I shall hardly 
 dare repeat." 
 
 Her lips closed like a rose that had gone back to be 
 a bud again and she pondered a moment, slowly free 
 ing and imprisoning the golden butterflies. 
 
 "Yon have risked a fortune, Mr. Glenarm, very, very 
 foolishly, and more if you are found here. Why, 
 Olivia must have recognized you ! She must have seen 
 you often across the wall."
 
 236 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "But I don't care I'm not staying at that ruin up 
 there for money. My grandfather meant more to me 
 than that" 
 
 "Yes ; I believe that is so. He was a dear old gentle 
 man ; and he liked me because I thought his jokes ador 
 able. My father and he had known each other. But 
 there was no expectation no wish to profit by his 
 friendship. My name in his will is a great embarrass 
 ment, a source of real annoyance. The newspapers 
 have printed dreadful pictures of me. That is why I 
 say to you, quite frankly, that I wouldn't accept a cent 
 of Mr. Glenarm's money if it were offered me; and 
 that is why," and her smile was a flash of spring, "I 
 want you to obey the terms of the will and earn your 
 fortune." 
 
 She closed the fan sharply and lifted her eyes to mine. 
 
 "But there isn't any fortune ! It's all a myth,, a joke," 
 I declared. 
 
 "Mr. Pickering doesn't seem to think so. He had 
 every reason for believing that Mr. Glenarm was a very 
 rich man. The property can't be found in the usual 
 places, banks, safety vaults, and the like. Then where 
 do you think it is, or better, where do you think 
 Mr. Pickering thinks it is ?" 
 
 "But assuming that it's buried up there by the lake 
 like a pirate's treasure, it isn't Pickering's if he finds
 
 GOLDEN BUTTERFLIES' 237 
 
 it. There are laws to protect even the dead from rob 
 bery I" I concluded hotly. 
 
 "How difficult you are! Suppose you should fall 
 from a boat, or be shot accidentally then I might 
 have to take the fortune after all; and Mr. Pickering 
 might think of an easier way of getting it than by " 
 
 "Stealing it ! Yes, but you wouldn't !" 
 
 Half -past twelve struck on the stairway and I started 
 to my feet. 
 
 "You wouldn't " I repeated. 
 
 "I might, you know !" 
 
 "I -must go, but not with that, not with any hint of 
 that, please I" 
 
 "If you let him defeat you, if you fail to spend your 
 year there, we'll overlook this one lapse/' she looked 
 me steadily in the eyes, wholly guiltless of coquetry but 
 infinitely kind, "then, " 
 
 She paused, opened the fan, held it up to the light 
 and studied the golden butterflies. 
 
 "Yes " 
 
 "Then let me see oh, I shall never chase another 
 rabbit as long as I live ! Now go quickly quickly !'' 
 
 "But you haven't told me when and where it vrcis wo 
 met the first time. Please I" 
 
 She laughed, but urged me away with her eyes. 
 
 "I shan't do it I It isn't proper for me to remember,
 
 if your memory Is so poor. I wonder how it would seem 
 for us to meet just once and be introduced! Good 
 night ! You really came. You are a gentleman of your 
 word, Squire Glenarm !" 
 
 She gave me the tips of her fingers without looking 
 at me. 
 
 A servant came in hurriedly. 
 
 "Miss Devereux, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor and Mr. Pick 
 ering are in the drawing-room." 
 
 "Yes ; very well ; I will come at once." 
 
 Then to me : 
 
 "They must not see you there, that way!" and she 
 stood in the door, facing me, her hands lightly touch 
 ing the frame as though to secure my way. 
 
 I turned for a last look and saw her waiting her 
 eyes bent gravely upon me, her arms still half-raised, 
 barring the door ; then she turned swiftly away into the 
 hall. 
 
 Outside I found my hat and coat, and wakened my 
 sleeping driver. He drove like mad into the city, and 
 I swung upon the north-bound sleeper just as it was 
 drawing out of the station.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 I MEET AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 When I reached the house I found, to my astonish 
 ment, that the window I had left open as I scrambled 
 out the night before was closed. I dropped my bag and 
 crept to the front door, thinking that if Bates had dis 
 covered my absence it was useless to attempt any fur 
 ther deception. I was amazed to find the great doors 
 of the main entrance flung wide, and in real alarm I 
 ran through the hall and back to the library. 
 
 The nearest door stood open, and, as I peered in, a 
 curious scene disclosed itself. A few of the large ca 
 thedral candles still burned brightly in several places, 
 their flame rising strangely in the gray morning light. 
 Books had been taken from the shelves and scattered 
 everywhere, and sharp implements had cut ugly gashes 
 in the shelving. The drawers containing sketches and 
 photographs had been pulled out and their contents 
 thrown about and trampled under foot. 
 
 The house was as silent as a tomb, but as I stood on 
 the threshold trying to realize what had happened, some 
 thing stirred by the fireplace and I crept forward, lis 
 tening, until I stood by the long table beneath the great 
 
 239
 
 240 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 chandelier. Again I heard a sound as of some animal 
 waking and stretching, followed by a moan that was 
 undoubtedly human. Then the hands of a man clutched 
 the farther edge of the table, and slowly and evidently 
 with infinite difficulty a figure rose and the dark face 
 of Bates, with eyes blurred and staring strangely, con 
 fronted me. 
 
 He drew his body to its height, and leaned heavily 
 upon the table. I snatched a candle and bent toward 
 him to make sure my eyes were not tricking me. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm! Mr. Glenarm!" he exclaimed in 
 broken whispers. "It is Bates, sir." 
 
 "What have you done; what has happened?" I de 
 manded. 
 
 He put his hand to his head uncertainly and gaped 
 as though trying to gather his wits. 
 
 He was evidently dazed by whatever had occurred, 
 and I sprang around and helped him to a couch. He 
 would not lie down but sat up, staring and passing his 
 hand over his head. It was rapidly growing lighter, 
 and I saw a purple and black streak across his temple 
 where a bludgeon of some sort had struck him. 
 
 "What does this mean, Bates? Who has been in the 
 house?" 
 
 "I can't tell you, Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "Can't tell me! You will tell me or go to jail!
 
 I MEET AN OLD FRIEND 241 
 
 There's been mischief done here and I don't intend to 
 have any nonsense about it from you. Well ?" 
 
 He was clearly suffering, but in my anger at tb<3 sight 
 of the wreck of the room I grasped his shoulder and 
 shook him roughly. 
 
 "It was early this morning," he faltered, "about two 
 o'clock, I heard noises in the lower part of the house. 
 I came down thinking likely it was you, and remember 
 ing that you had been sick yesterday " 
 
 "Yes, go on." 
 
 The thought of my truancy was no balm to my con 
 science just then. 
 
 "As I came into the hall, I saw lights in the library. 
 As you weren't down last night the room hadn't been 
 lighted at all. I heard steps, and some one tapping with 
 a hammer " 
 
 "Yes ; a hammer. Go on !" 
 
 It was, then, the same old story ! The war had been 
 carried openly into the house, but Bates, just why 
 should any one connected with the conspiracy injure 
 Bates, who stood so near to Pickering, its leader ? The 
 fellow was undoubtedly hurt, there was no mistaking 
 the lump on his head. He spoke with a painful diffi 
 culty that was not assumed, I felt increasingly sure, as 
 he went on. 
 
 "I saw a man pulling out the books and tapping the
 
 212 m THE HOUSE OF 'A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 inside of the shelves. He was working very fast. And 
 the next thing I knew he let in another man through 
 one of the terrace doors, the one there that still stands 
 a little open." 
 
 He flinched as he turned slightly to indicate it, and 
 his face twitched with pain. 
 
 "Never mind that ; tell the rest of your story." 
 
 "Then I ran in, grabbed one of the big candelabra 
 from the table, and went for the nearest man. They 
 were about to begin on the chimney-breast there, it 
 was Mr. Glenarm's pride in all the house, and that 
 accounts for my being there in front of the fireplace. 
 They rather got the best of me, sir." 
 
 "Clearly; I see they did. You had a hand-to-hand 
 fight with them, and being two to one " 
 
 "No; there were two of us, don't you understand, 
 two of us ! There was another man who came running 
 in from somewhere, and he took sides with me. I 
 thought at first it was you. The robbers thought so, 
 too, for one of them yelled, 'Great God ; it's Glenarm !' 
 just like that. But it wasn't you, but quite another per 
 son." 
 
 "That's a good story so far; and then what hap 
 pened?" 
 
 "I don't remember much more, except that some one 
 soused me with water that helped my head considerably,
 
 243 
 
 and the next thing I knew I was staring across the table 
 there at you." 
 
 "Who were these men, Bates ? Speak up quickly !" 
 
 My tone was peremptory. Here was, I felt, a crucial 
 moment in our relations. 
 
 "Well," he began deliberately, "I dislike to make 
 charges against a fellow man, but I strongly suspect one 
 of the men of being " 
 
 "Yes! Tell the whole truth or it will be the worse 
 for you." 
 
 "I very much fear one of them was Ferguson, the 
 gardener over the way. I'm disappointed in him, 
 sir." 
 
 "Very good ; and now for the other one." 
 
 "I didn't get my eyes on him. I had closed with 
 Ferguson and we were having quite a lively time of it 
 when the other one came in ; then the man who came to 
 my help mixed us all up, he was a very lively person, 
 and what became of Ferguson and the rest of it I don't 
 know." 
 
 There was food for thought in what he said. He had 
 taken punishment in defense of my property the crack 
 on his head was undeniable and I could not abuse 
 him or question his veracity with any grace; not, at 
 least, without time for investigation and study. How 
 ever, I ventured to ask him one question.
 
 244 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "If you were guessing, shouldn't you think it quite 
 likely that Morgan was the other man?" 
 
 He met my gaze squarely. 
 
 "I think it wholly possible, Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "And the man who helped you who in the devil was 
 he?" 
 
 "Bless me, I don't know. He disappeared. I'd like 
 mightily to see him again." 
 
 "Humph! Now you'd better do something for your 
 head. I'll summon the village doctor if you say so." 
 
 "No ; thank you, sir. I'll take care of it myself." 
 
 "And now we'll keep quiet about this. Don't men 
 tion it or discuss it with any one." 
 
 "Certainly not, sir." 
 
 He rose, and staggered a little, but crossed to the 
 broad mantel-shelf in the great chimney-breast, rested 
 his arm upon it for a moment, passed his hand over the 
 dark wood with a sort of caress, then bent his eyes upon 
 the floor littered with books and drawings and papers 
 torn from the cabinets and all splashed with tallow and 
 wax from the candles. The daylight had increased until 
 the havoc wrought by the night's visitors was fully ap 
 parent. The marauders had made a sorry mess of the 
 room, and I thought Bates' lip quivered as he saw the 
 wreck.
 
 245 
 
 "It would have been a blow to Mr. Glenarm ; the room 
 was his pride, his pride, sir." 
 
 He went out toward the kitchen, and I ran up stairs 
 to my own room. I cursed the folly that had led me to 
 leave my window open, for undoubtedly Morgan and 
 his new ally, St. Agatha's gardener, had taken advan 
 tage of it to enter the house. Quite likely, too, they had 
 observed my absence, and this would undoubtedly be 
 communicated to Pickering. I threw open my door 
 and started back with an exclamation of amazement. 
 
 Standing at my chiffonnier, between two windows, 
 was a man, clad in a bath-gown my own, I saw with 
 fury his back to me, the razor at his face, placidly 
 shaving himself. 
 
 Without turning he addressed me, quite coolly and 
 casually, as though his being there was the most natu 
 ral thing in the world. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Glenarm! Eather damaging 
 evidence, that costume. I suppose it's the custom of the 
 country for gentlemen in evening clothes to go out by 
 the window and return by the door. You might think 
 the other way round preferable." 
 
 "Larry !" I shouted. 
 
 "Jack !" 
 
 "Kick that door shut and lock it," he commanded, in
 
 246 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 a sharp, severe tone that I remembered well and just 
 now welcomed in him. 
 
 "How, why and when ?" 
 
 "Never mind about me. I'm here thrown the enemy 
 off for a few days ; and you give me lessons in current 
 history first, while I climb into my armor. Pray pardon 
 the informality 
 
 He seized a broom and began work upon a pair of 
 trousers to which mud and briers clung tenaciously. 
 His coat and hat lay on a chair, they, too, much the 
 worse for rough wear. 
 
 There was never any use in refusing to obey Larry's 
 orders, and as he got into his clothes I gave him in as 
 few words as possible the chief incidents that had 
 marked my stay at Glenarm House. He continued dress 
 ing with care, helping himself to a shirt and collar from 
 my chiffonnier and choosing with unfailing eye the 
 best tie in my collection. Now and then he asked a 
 question tersely, or, again, he laughed or swore direly in 
 Gaelic. When I had concluded the story of Pickering's 
 visit, and of the conversation I overheard between the 
 executor and Bates in the church porch, Larry wheeled 
 round with the scarf half-tied in his fingers and sur 
 veyed me commiseratingly. 
 
 "And you didn't rush them both on the spot and have 
 it out?"
 
 I MEET AN OLD FRIEND 247 
 
 "No. I was too much taken aback, for one thing " 
 
 "I dare say you were !" 
 
 "And for another I didn't think the time ripe. I'm 
 going to beat that fellow, Larry, but I want him to 
 show his hand fully before we come to a smash-up. I 
 know as much about the house and its secrets as he does, 
 that's one consolation. Sometimes I don't believe 
 there's a shilling here, and again I'm sure there's a big 
 stake in it. The fact that Pickering is risking so much 
 to find what's supposed to be hidden here is pretty fair 
 evidence that something's buried on the place." 
 
 "Possibly, but they're giving you a lively boycott. 
 Now where in the devil have you been ?" 
 
 "Well, " I began and hesitated. I had not men 
 tioned Marian Devereux and this did not seem the time 
 for confidences of that sort. 
 
 He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it. 
 
 "Bah, these women ! Under the terms of your revered 
 grandfather's will you have thrown away all your rights. 
 It looks to me, as a member of the Irish bar in bad 
 standing, as though you had delivered yourself up to 
 the enemy, so far as the legal situation is concerned. 
 How does it strike you ?" 
 
 "Of course I've forfeited my rights. But I don't 
 mean that any one shall know it yet a while." 
 
 "My lad, don't deceive yourself. Everybody round
 
 248 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 here will know it before night. You ran off, left your 
 window open invitingly, and two gentlemen who raedi- < 
 tated breaking in found that the}" needn't take the trou 
 ble. One came in through } r our own room, noting, of 
 course, your absence, let in his friend below, and tore 
 up the place regrettably." 
 
 "Yes, but how did you get here? if you don't mind 
 telling." 
 
 "It's a short story. That little chap from Scotland 
 Yard, who annoyed me so much in New York and drove 
 me to Mexico for which may he dwell for ever in fiery 
 torment has never given up. I shook him off, though, 
 at Indianapolis three days ago. I bought a ticket for 
 Pittsburg with him at my elbow. I suppose he thought 
 the chase was growing tame, and that the farther east 
 he could arrest me the nearer I should be to a Brit 
 ish consul and tide-water. I went ahead of him into the 
 station and out to the Pittsburg sleeper. I dropped my 
 bag into my section if that's what they call it in your 
 atrocious American language looked out and saw him 
 coming along the platform. Just then the car began to 
 move, they were shunting it about to attach a sleeper 
 that had been brought in from Louisville, and my car 
 riage, or whatever you call it, went skimming out of 
 the sheds into a yard where everything seemed to be 
 most noisy and complex. I dropped off in the dark
 
 I MEET AN OLD FBIEND 249 
 
 just before they began to haul the carriage back. A 
 long train of empty goods wagons was just pulling 
 out and I threw my bag into a wagon and climbed after 
 it. We kept going for an hour or so until I was thor 
 oughly lost, then I took advantage of a stop at a place 
 that seemed to be the end of terrestrial things, got out 
 and started across country. I expressed my bag to you 
 the other day from a town that rejoiced in the cheering 
 name of Kokomp, just to get rid of it. I walked into 
 Annandale about midnight, found this medieval marvel 
 through the kindness of the station-master and was re- 
 connoitering with my usual caution when I saw a gen 
 tleman romantically entering through an open window." 
 
 Larry paused to light a fresh cigarette. 
 
 "You always did have a way of arriving opportunely. 
 Goon!" 
 
 "It pleased my fancy to follow him ; and by the time 
 I had studied your diggings here a trifle, things be 
 gan to happen below. It sounded like a St. Patrick's 
 Day celebration in an Irish village, and I went down at 
 a gallop to see if there was any chance of breaking in. 
 Have you seen the room? Well," he gave several 
 turns to his right wrist, as though to test it, "we all 
 had a jolly time there by the fireplace. Another chap 
 had got in somewhere, so there were two of them. Your 
 man I suppose it's your man was defending himself
 
 250 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 gallantly with a large thing of brass that looked like 
 the pipes of a grand organ and I sailed in with a chair. 
 My presence seemed to surprise the attacking party, 
 who evidently thought I was you, flattering, I must 
 say, to me !" 
 
 "You undoubtedly saved Bates' life and prevented the 
 rifling of the house. And after you had poured water 
 on Bates, he's the servant, you came up here " 
 
 "That's the way of it." 
 
 "You're a brick, Larry Donovan. There's only one of 
 you ; and now " 
 
 "And now, John Glenarm, we've got to get down to 
 business, or you must. As for me, after a few hours 
 of your enlivening society " 
 
 "You don't go a step until we go together, no, by 
 the beard of the prophet ! I've a fight on here and I'm 
 going to win if I die in the struggle, and you've got to 
 stay with me to the end.' 7 
 
 "But under the will you dare not take a boarder." 
 
 "Of course I dare! That will's as though it had 
 never been as far as I'm concerned. My grandfather 
 never expected me to sit here alone and be murdered. 
 John Marshall Glenarm wasn't a fool exactly I" 
 
 "No, but a trifle queer, I should say. I don't have 
 to tell you, old man, that this situation appeals to me.
 
 I MEET AN OLD FRIEND 251 
 
 It's my kind of a job. If it weren't that the hounds are 
 at my heels I'd like to stay with you, but you have 
 enough trouble on hands without opening the house to 
 an attack by my enemies." 
 
 "Stop talking about it. I don't propose to be desert 
 ed by the only friend I have in the world when I'm up 
 to my eyes in trouble. Let's go down and get some 
 coffee." 
 
 We found Bates trying to remove the evidences of the 
 night's struggle. He had fastened a cold pack about his 
 head and limped slightly; otherwise he was the same 
 silent and inexplicable. 
 
 Daylight had not improved the appearance of the 
 room. Several hundred books lay scattered over the 
 floor, and the shelves which had held them were hacked 
 and broken. 
 
 "Bates, if you can give us some coffee ? Let the 
 room go for the present." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And Bates" 
 
 He paused and Larry's keen eyes were bent sharply 
 upon him. 
 
 "Mr. Donovan is a friend who will be with me for 
 some time. We'll fix up his room later in the day." 
 
 He limped out, Larry's eyes following him.
 
 25$ THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAXD CAXDLES 
 
 ff What do you think of that fellow?" I asked. 
 
 Larnrs face wore a puzzled look. 
 
 4sf \That do yon call him, Bates? He's a plucky fel 
 low." 
 
 Larry picked up from the hearth the big cande 
 labrum with which Bates had defended himself. It 
 was badly bent and twisted, and Larry grinned. 
 
 The fellow who went out through the front door 
 probably isn't feeling very well to-day. Your man was 
 swinging this thing like a windmill." 
 
 "I can't understand it," I muttered. "I can't, for 
 the life of me, see why he should have given battle to 
 the enemy. They all belong to Pickering, and Bates is 
 the biggest rascal of the bunch." 
 
 <4 Humph * weTl consider that later. And would you 
 mind telling me what kind of a tallow foundry this is? 
 I nerer saw so many candlesticks in my life. I seem 
 to taste tallow. I had no letters from you, and I sup 
 posed you were loafing quietly in a grim farm-house, 
 dying of ennui, and here you are in an establishment 
 that ought to be the imperial residence of an Eskimo 
 chief. Possibly you hare crude petroleum for soup and 
 whipped salad-oil for dessert. I declare, a man living 
 here ought to attain a high candle-power of luminosity. 
 Ifs perfectly immense." He stared and laughed. "And 
 hidden treasure, and night attacks, and young virgins
 
 I MEET AN OLD FRIEXD 253 
 
 in the middle distance, yes, I'd really like to stay a 
 while." 
 
 As we ate breakfast I filled in gaps I had left in my 
 hurried narrative, with relief that I can not describe fill 
 ing my heart as I leaned again upon the sympathy of 
 an old and trusted friend. 
 
 As Bates came and went I marked Larry's scrutiny of 
 the man. I dismissed him as soon as possible that we 
 might talk freely. 
 
 'Take it up and down and all around, what do you 
 think of all this ?" I asked. 
 
 Larry was silent for a moment; he was not given to 
 careless speech in personal matters. 
 
 "There's more to it than frightening you off or get 
 ting your grandfather's money. If s my guess that 
 there's something in this house that somebody Picker 
 ing supposedly is very anxious to find." 
 
 "Yes; I begin to think so. He could come in here 
 legally if it were merely a matter of searching for lost 
 assets." 
 
 "Yes ; and whatever it is it must be well hidden. As 
 I remember, your grandfather died in June. You got 
 a letter calling you home in October." 
 
 "It was sent out blindly, with not one chance in a 
 hundred that it would ever reach me." 
 
 "To be sure. You were a wanderer on the face of the
 
 254: THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 earth, and there was nobody in America to look after 
 your interests. You may be sure that the place was 
 thoroughly ransacked while you were sailing home. I'll 
 wager you the best dinner you ever ate that there's more 
 at stake than your grandfather's money. The situation 
 is inspiring. I grow interested. I'm almost persuaded 
 to linger."
 
 CHAPTEE XX 
 
 A TEIPLE ALLIANCE 
 
 Larry refused to share my quarters and chose a room 
 for himself, which Bates fitted up out of the house 
 stores. I did not know what Bates might surmise about 
 Larry, but he accepted my friend in good part, as a 
 guest who would remain indefinitely. He seemed to in 
 terest Larry, whose eyes followed the man inquiringly. 
 When we went into Bates' room on our tour of the 
 house, Larry scanned the books on a little shelf with 
 something more than a casual eye. There were exactly 
 four volumes, Shakespeare's Comedies, The Faerie 
 Queen, Sterne's Sentimental Journey and Yeats' Land 
 of Heart's Desire. 
 
 "A queer customer, Larry. Nobody but my grand 
 father could ever have discovered him he found him 
 up in Vermont." 
 
 "I suppose his being a bloomin' Yankee naturally ac 
 counts for this," remarked Larry, taking from under the 
 pillow of the narrow iron bed a copy of the Dublin 
 
 Freeman's Journal. 
 
 255
 
 256 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLBS 
 
 "It is a little odd," I said. "But if you found a Yid 
 dish newspaper or an Egyptian papyrus under his pillow 
 I should not be surprised." 
 
 "Nor I," said Larry. "I'll wager that not another 
 shelf in this part of the world contains exactly that col 
 lection of books, and nothing else. You will notice that 
 there was once a book-plate in each of these volumes and 
 that it's been scratched out with care." 
 
 On a small table were pen and ink and a curious 
 much-worn portfolio. 
 
 "He always gets the mail first, doesn't he?" asked 
 Larry. 
 
 "Yes, I believe he does." 
 
 "I thought so; and I'll swear he never got a letter 
 from Vermont in his life." 
 
 When we went down Bates was limping about the 
 library, endeavoring to restore order. 
 
 "Bates," I said to him, "you are a very curious per 
 son. I have had a thousand and one opinions about you 
 since I came here, and I still don't make you out." 
 
 He turned from the shelves, a defaced volume in his 
 hands. 
 
 "Yes, sir. It was a good deal that way with your la 
 mented grandfather. He always said I puzzled him." 
 
 Larry, safe behind the fellow's back, made no attempt 
 to conceal a smile.
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 257 
 
 "I want to thank you for your heroic efforts to pro 
 tect the house last night. You acted nobly, and I must 
 confess, Bates, that I didn't think it was in you. You've 
 got the right stuff in you ; I'm only sorry that there are 
 black pages in your record that I can't reconcile with 
 your manly conduct of last night. But we've got to 
 come to an understanding." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "The most outrageous attacks have been made on me 
 since I came here. You know what I mean well enough. 
 Mr. Glenarm never intended that I should sit down in 
 his house and be killed or robbed. He was the gentlest 
 being that ever lived, and I'm going to fight for his 
 memory and to protect his property from the scoundrels 
 who have plotted against me. I hope you follow me." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Glenarm." He was regarding me atten 
 tively. His lips quavered, perhaps from weakness, for 
 he certainly looked ill. 
 
 "Now I offer you your choice, either to stand loyally 
 by me and my grandfather's house or to join these 
 scoundrels Arthur Pickering has hired to drive me out. 
 I'm not going to bribe you, I don't offer you a cent for 
 standing by me, but I won't have a traitor in the house, 
 and if you don't like me or my terms I want you to go 
 and go now." 
 
 He straightened quickly, his eyes lighted and the
 
 258 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 color crept into his face. I had never before seen him 
 appear so like a human being. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, you have been hard on me ; there have 
 been times when you have been very unjust " 
 
 "Unjust, my God, what do you expect me to 
 take from you! Haven't I known that you were in 
 league with Pickering? I'm not as dull as I look, and 
 after your interview with Pickering in the chapel porch 
 you can't convince me that you were faithful to my in 
 terests at that time." 
 
 He started and gazed at me wonderingly. I had had 
 no intention of using the chapel porch interview at this 
 time, but it leaped out of me uncontrollably. 
 
 "I suppose, sir," he began brokenly, "that I can hard 
 ly persuade you that I meant no wrong on that occa 
 sion." 
 
 "You certainly can not, and it's safer for you not 
 to try. But I'm willing to let all that go as a reward 
 for your work last night. Make your choice now; stay 
 here and stop your spying or clear out of Annandale 
 within an hour." 
 
 He took a step toward me ; the table was between us 
 and he drew quite near but stood clear of it, erect until 
 there was something almost soldierly and commanding 
 in his figure. 
 
 "By God, I will stand by you, John Glenarm !" he
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 259 
 
 said, and struck the table smartly with his clenched 
 hand. 
 
 He flushed instantly, and I felt the blood mounting 
 into my own face as we gazed at each other, he, Bates, 
 the servant, and I, his master ! He had always addressed 
 me so punctiliously with the "sir" of respect that his 
 declaration of fealty, spoken with so sincere and vigor 
 ous an air of independence, and with the bold emphasis 
 of the oath, held me spellbound, staring at him. The 
 silence was broken by Larry, who sprang forward and 
 grasped Bates' hand. 
 
 "I, too, Bates," I said, feeling my heart leap with 
 liking, even with admiration for the real manhood that 
 seemed to transfigure this hireling, this fellow whom I 
 had charged with most infamous treachery, this servant 
 who had cared for my needs in so humble a spirit of 
 subjection. 
 
 The knocker on the front door sounded peremptorily, 
 and Bates turned away without another word, and ad 
 mitted Stoddard, who came in hurriedly. 
 
 "Merry Christmas!" in his big hearty tones was 
 hardly consonant with the troubled look on his face. I 
 introduced him to Larry and asked him to sit down. 
 
 "Pray excuse our disorder, we didn't do it for fun ; 
 it was one of Santa Glaus' tricks." 
 
 He stared about wonderingly.
 
 260 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "So you caught it, too, did you?" 
 
 "To be sure. You don't mean to say that they raided 
 the chapel ?" 
 
 "That's exactly what I mean to say. When I went 
 into the church for my early service I found that some 
 one had ripped off the wainscoting in a half a dozen 
 places and even pried up the altar. It's the most out 
 rageous thing I ever knew. You've heard of the pro 
 verbial poverty of the church mouse, what do you sup 
 pose anybody could want to raid a simple little country 
 chapel for? And more curious yet, the church plate 
 was untouched, though the closet where it's kept was 
 upset, as though the miscreants had been looking for 
 something they didn't find." 
 
 Stoddard was greatly disturbed, and gazed about the 
 topsy-turvy library with growing indignation. 
 
 We drew together for a council of war. Here was an 
 opportunity to enlist a new recruit on my side. I al 
 ready felt stronger by reason of Larry's accession; as to 
 Bates, my mind was still numb and bewildered. 
 
 "Larry, there's no reason why we shouldn't join forces 
 with Mr. Stoddard, as he seems to be affected by this 
 struggle. We owe it to him and the school to put him 
 on guard, particularly since we know that Ferguson's 
 with the enemy."
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 261 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said Larry. 
 
 He always liked or disliked new people unequivocally, 
 and I was glad to see that he surveyed the big clergy 
 man with approval. 
 
 "I'll begin at the beginning," I said, "and tell you 
 the whole story." 
 
 He listened quietly to the end while I told him of my 
 experience with Morgan, of the tunnel into the chapel 
 crypt, and finally of the affair in the night and our in 
 terview with Bates. 
 
 "I feel like rubbing my eyes and accusing you of 
 reading penny-horrors," he said. "That doesn't sound 
 like the twentieth century in Indiana." 
 
 "But Ferguson, you'd better have a care in his di 
 rection. Sister Theresa 
 
 "Bless your heart ! Ferguson's gone without notice. 
 He got his traps and skipped without saying a word to 
 any one." 
 
 "We'll hear from him again, no doubt. Now, gentle 
 men, I believe we understand one another. I don't like 
 to draw you, either one of you, into my private af 
 fairs" 
 
 The big chaplain laughed. 
 
 "Glenarm," prefixes went out of commission quick 
 ly that morning, "if you hadn't let me in on this I
 
 262 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 should never have got over it. Why, this is a page out 
 of the good old times ! Bless me ! I never appreciated 
 your grandfather ! I must run I have another service. 
 But I hope you gentlemen will call on me, day or night, 
 for anything I can do to help you. Please don't forget 
 me. I had the record once for putting the shot." 
 
 "Why not give our friend escort through the tunnel ?" 
 asked Larry. "I'll not hesitate to say that I'm dying 
 to see it." 
 
 "To be sure!" We went down into the cellar, and 
 poked over the lantern and candlestick collections, and 
 I pointed out the exact spot where Morgan and I had 
 indulged in our revolver duel. It was fortunate that 
 the plastered walls of the cellar showed clearly the cuts 
 and scars of the pistol-balls or I fear my story would 
 have fallen on incredulous ears. 
 
 The debris I had piled upon the false block of stone 
 in the cellar lay as I had left it, but the three of us 
 quickly freed the trap. The humor of the thing took 
 strong hold of my new allies, and while I was getting a 
 lantern to light us through the passage Larry sat on the 
 edge of the trap and howled a few bars of a wild Irish 
 jig. We set forth at once and found the passage un 
 changed. When the cold air blew in upon us I paused. 
 
 "Have you gentlemen the slightest idea of where 
 you are?"
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 263 
 
 "We must be under the school-grounds, I should say/' 
 replied Stoddard. 
 
 "We're exactly under the stone wall. Those tall posts 
 at the gate are a scheme for keeping fresh air in the 
 passage." 
 
 "You certainly have all the modern improvements," 
 observed Larry, and I heard him chuckling all the way 
 to the crypt door. 
 
 When I pushed the panel open and we stepped out 
 into the crypt Stoddard whistled and Larry swore 
 softly. 
 
 "It must be for something !" exclaimed the chaplain. 
 "You don't suppose Mr. Glenarm built a secret passage 
 just for the fun of it, do you ? He must have had some 
 purpose. Why, I sleep out here within forty yards of 
 where we stand and I never had the slightest idea of 
 this." 
 
 "But other people seem to know of it," observed 
 Larry. 
 
 "To be sure; the curiosity of the whole countryside 
 was undoubtedly piqued by the building of Glenarm 
 House. The fact that workmen were brought from a 
 distance was in itself enough to arouse interest. Mor 
 gan seems to have discovered the passage without any 
 trouble." 
 
 "More likely it was Ferguson. He was the sexton of
 
 264 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 the church and had a chance to investigate," said Stod- 
 dard. "And now, gentlemen, I must go to my service. 
 I'll see you again before the day is over." 
 
 "And we make no confidences !" I admonished. 
 
 "'Sdeath ! I believe that is the proper expression un 
 der all the circumstances." And the Eeverend Paul 
 Stoddard laughed, clasped my hand and went up into 
 the chapel vestry. 
 
 I closed the door in the wainscoting and hung the 
 map back in place. 
 
 We went up into the little chapel and found a small 
 company of worshipers assembled, a few people from 
 the surrounding farms, half a dozen Sisters sitting som 
 berly near the chancel and the school servants. 
 
 Stoddard came out into the chancel, lighted the altar 
 tapers and began the Anglican communion office. I had 
 forgotten what a church service was like; and Larry, I 
 felt sure, had not attended church since the last time 
 his family had dragged him to choral vespers. 
 
 It was comforting to know that here was, at least, one 
 place of peace within reach of Glenarm House. But I 
 may be forgiven, I hope, if my mind wandered that 
 morning, and my thoughts played hide-and-seek with 
 memory. For it was here, in the winter twilight, that 
 Marian Devereux had poured out her girl's heart in a 
 great flood of melody. I was glad that the organ was
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 265 
 
 closed; it would have wrung my heart to hear a note 
 from it that her hands did not evoke. 
 
 When we came out upon the church porch and I stood 
 on the steps to allow Larry to study the grounds, one of 
 the brown-robed Sisterhood spoke my name. 
 
 It was Sister Theresa. 
 
 " Can you come in for a moment ?" she asked. 
 
 "I will follow at once," I said. 
 
 She met me in the reception-room where I had seen 
 her before. 
 
 "I'm sorry to trouble you on Christmas Day with my 
 affairs, but I have had a letter from Mr. Pickering, say 
 ing that he will be obliged to bring suit for settlement 
 of my account with Mr. Glenarm's estate. I needn't 
 say that this troubles me greatly. In my position a law 
 suit is uncomfortable; it would do a real harm to the 
 school. Mr. Pickering implies in a very disagreeable 
 way that I exercised an undue influence over Mr. Glen- 
 arm. You can readily understand that that is not a 
 pleasant accusation." 
 
 "He is going pretty far," I said. 
 
 "He gives me credit for a degree of power over others 
 that I regret to say I do not possess. He thinks, for in 
 stance, that I am responsible for Miss Devereux's atti 
 tude toward him, something that I have had nothing 
 whatever to do with."
 
 266 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "No, of course not." 
 
 "Fm glad you have no harsh feeling toward her. It 
 was unfortunate that Mr. Glenarm saw fit to mention 
 her in his will. It has given her a great deal of notori 
 ety, and has doubtless strengthened the impression in 
 some minds that she and I really plotted to get as much 
 as possible of your grandfather's estate/' 
 
 "No one would regret all this more than my grand 
 father, I am sure of that. There are many inexpli 
 cable things about his affairs. It seems hardly possible 
 that a man so shrewd as he, and so thoughtful of the 
 feelings of others, should have left so many loose ends 
 behind him. But I assure you I am giving my whole 
 attention to these matters, and I am wholly at your 
 service in anything I can do to help you." 
 
 "I sincerely hope that nothing may interfere to pre 
 vent your meeting Mr. Glenarm's wish that you remain 
 through the year. That was a curious and whimsical 
 provision, but it is not, I imagine, so difficult." 
 
 She spoke in a kindly tone of encouragement that 
 made me feel uneasy and almost ashamed for having 
 already forfeited my claim under the will. Her beauti 
 ful gray eyes disconcerted me; I had not the heart to 
 deceive her. 
 
 "I have already made it impossible for me to inherit 
 under the will," I said.
 
 A TRIPLE ALLIANCE 267 
 
 The disappointment in her face rebuked me sharply. 
 
 "I am sorry, very sorry, indeed," she said coldly. 
 "But how, may I ask ?" 
 
 "I ran away, last night. I went to Cincinnati to see 
 Miss Devereux." 
 
 She rose, staring in dumb astonishment, and after a 
 full minute in which I tried vainly to think of some 
 thing to say, I left the house. 
 
 There is nothing in the world so tiresome as explana 
 tions, and I have never in my life tried to make them 
 without floundering into seas of trouble.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 
 
 The next morning Bates placed a letter postmarked 
 Cincinnati at my plate. I opened and read it aloud to 
 Larry : 
 
 On Board the Heloise 
 
 December 25, 1901. 
 John Glenarm, Esq., 
 Glenarm House, 
 
 Annandale, Wahana Co., Indiana: 
 
 DEAR SIR I have just learned from what I believe to 
 be a trustworthy source that you have already violated 
 the terms of the agreement under which you entered into 
 residence on the property near Annandale, known as 
 Glenarm House. The provisions of the will of John Mar 
 shall Glenarm are plain and unequivocal, as you undoubt 
 edly understood when you accepted them, and your ab 
 sence, not only from the estate itself, but from Wabana 
 County, violates beyond question your right to inherit. 
 
 I, as executor, therefore demand that you at once vacate 
 said property, leaving it in as good condition as when 
 received by you. Very truly yours, 
 
 ARTHUR PICKERING, 
 Executor of the Estate of John Marshall Glenarm. 
 
 "Very truly the devil's/' growled Larry, snapping 
 his cigarette case viciously. 
 
 268
 
 PICKEKING SEEVES NOTICE 269 
 
 "How did he find out ?" I asked lamely, but my heart 
 sank like lead. Had Marian Devereux told him! How 
 else could he know ? 
 
 "Probably from the stars, the whole universe un 
 doubtedly saw you skipping off to meet your lady-love. 
 Bah, these women !" 
 
 "Tut! They don't all marry the sons of brewers," 
 I retorted. "You assured me once, while your affair 
 with that Irish girl was on, that the short upper lip 
 made Heaven seem possible, but unnecessary; then the 
 next thing I knew she had shaken you for the bloated 
 masher. Take that for your impertinence. But perhaps 
 it was Bates ?" 
 
 I did not wait for an answer. I was not in a mood 
 for reflection or nice distinctions. The man came in 
 just then with a fresh plate of toast. 
 
 "Bates, Mr. Pickering has learned that I was away 
 from the house on the night of the attack, and I'm or 
 dered off for having broken my agreement to stay here. 
 How do you suppose he heard of it so promptly ?" 
 
 "From Morgan, quite possibly. I have a letter from 
 Mr. Pickering myself this morning. Just a moment, 
 sir." 
 
 He placed before me a note bearing the same date as 
 my own. It was a sharp rebuke of Bates for his failure 
 to report my absence, and he was ordered to prepare to
 
 270 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 leave on the first of February. "Close your accounts at 
 the shopkeepers' and I will audit your bills on my ar 
 rival." 
 
 The tone was peremptory and contemptuous. Bates 
 had failed to satisfy Pickering and was flung off like a 
 smoked-out cigar. 
 
 "How much had he allowed you for expenses, Bates ?" 
 
 He met my gaze imperturbably. 
 
 "He paid me fifty dollars a month as wages, sir, and 
 I was allowed seventy-five for other expenses." 
 
 "But you didn't buy English pheasants and cham 
 pagne on that allowance !" 
 
 He was carrying away the coffee tray and his eyes 
 wandered to the windows. 
 
 "Not quite, sir. You see " 
 
 "But I don't see !" 
 
 "It had occurred to me that as Mr. Pickering's allow 
 ance wasn't what you might call generous it was better 
 to augment it Well, sir, I took the liberty of ad 
 vancing a trifle, as you might say, to the estate. Your 
 grandfather would not have had you starve, sir." 
 
 He left hurriedly, as though to escape from the con 
 sequences of his words, and when I came to myself 
 Larry was gloomily invoking his strange Irish gods. 
 
 "Larry Donovan, I've been tempted to kill that fel-
 
 PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 271 
 
 low a dozen times! This thing is too damned compli 
 cated for me. I wish my lamented grandfather had left 
 me something easy. To think of it that fellow, after 
 my treatment of him my cursing and abusing him 
 since I came here ! Great Scott, man, I've been enjoy 
 ing his bounty, I've been living on his money! And 
 all the time he's been trusting in me, just because of 
 his dog-like devotion to my grandfather's memory. 
 Lord, I can't face the fellow again !" 
 
 "As I have said before, you're rather lacking at times 
 in perspicacity. Your intelligence is marred by large 
 opaque spots. Now that there's a woman in the case 
 you're less sane than ever. Bah, these women! And 
 now we've got to go to work." 
 
 Bah, these women ! My own heart caught the words. 
 I was enraged and bitter. No wonder she had been 
 anxious for me to avoid Pickering after daring me to 
 follow her ! 
 
 We called a council of war for that night that we 
 might view matters in the light of Pickering's letter. 
 His assuredness in ordering me to leave made prompt 
 and decisive action necessary on my part. I summoned 
 Stoddard to our conference, feeling confident of his 
 friendliness. 
 
 "Of course," said the broad-shouldered chaplain, "if
 
 272 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 you could show that your absence was on business of 
 very grave importance, the courts might construe in 
 that you had not really violated the will." 
 
 Larry looked at the ceiling and blew rings of smoke 
 languidly. I had not disclosed to either of them the 
 cause of my absence. On such a matter I knew I should 
 get precious little sympathy from Larry, and I had, 
 moreover, a feeling that I could not discuss Marian 
 Devereux with any one; I even shrank from mention 
 ing her name, though it rang like the call of bugles in 
 my blood. 
 
 She was always before me, the charmed spirit of 
 youth, linked to every foot of the earth, every gleam of 
 the sun upon the ice-bound lake, every glory of the win 
 ter sunset. All the good impulses I had ever stifled 
 were quickened to life by the thought of her. Amid the 
 day's perplexities I started sometimes, thinking I heard 
 her voice, her girlish laughter, or saw her again coming 
 toward me down the stairs, or holding against the light 
 her fan with its golden butterflies. I really knew so 
 little of her; I could associate her with no home, only 
 with that last fling of the autumn upon the lake, the 
 snow-driven woodland, that twilight hour at the organ 
 in the chapel, those stolen moments at the Armstrongs'. 
 I resented the pressure of the hour's affairs, and chafed 
 at the necessity for talking of my perplexities with the
 
 PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 273 
 
 good friends who were there to help. I wished to be 
 alone, to yield to the sweet mood that the thought of her 
 brought me. The doubt that crept through my mind 
 as to any possibility of connivance between her and 
 Pickering was as vague and fleeting as the shadow of a 
 swallow's wing on a sunny meadow. 
 
 "You don't intend fighting the fact of your absence, 
 do you ?" demanded Larry, after a long silence. 
 
 "Of course not !" I replied quietly. "Pickering was 
 right on my heels, and my absence was known to his 
 men here. And it would not be square to my grandfa 
 ther, who never harmed a flea, may his soul rest in 
 blessed peace ! to lie about it. They might nail me for 
 perjury besides." 
 
 "Then the quicker we get ready for a siege the better. 
 As I understand your attitude, you don't propose to 
 move out until you've found where the siller's hidden. 
 Being a gallant gentleman and of a forgiving nature, 
 you want to be sure that the lady who is now entitled to 
 it gets all there is coming to her, and as you don't trust 
 the executor, any further than a true Irishman trusts a 
 British prime minister's promise, you're going to stand 
 by to watch the boodle counted. Is that a correct an 
 alysis of your intentions ?" 
 
 "That's as near one of my ideas as you're likely to 
 get, Larry Donovan !"
 
 274 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "And. if he comes with the authorities, the sheriff 
 and that sort of thing, we must prepare for such an 
 emergency/' interposed the chaplain. 
 
 "So much the worse for the sheriff and the rest of 
 them !" I declared. 
 
 "Spoken like a man of spirit. And now we'd better 
 stock up at once, in case we should be shut off from our 
 source of supplies. This is a lonely place here; even 
 the school is a remote neighbor. Better let Bates raid 
 the village shops to-morrow. I've tried being hungry, 
 and I don't care to repeat the experience." 
 
 And Larry reached for the tobacco jar. 
 
 "I can't imagine, I really can't believe," began the 
 chaplain, "that Miss Devereux will want to be brought 
 into this estate matter in any way. In fact, I have heard 
 Sister Theresa say as much. I suppose there's no way 
 of preventing a man from leaving his property to a 
 young woman, who has no claim on him, who doesn't 
 want anything from him." 
 
 "Bah, these women! People don't throw legacies to 
 the birds these days. Of course she'll take it." 
 
 Then his eyes widened and met mine in a gaze that 
 reflected the mystification and wonder that struck both 
 of us. Stoddard turned from the fire suddenly : 
 
 "What's that ? There's some one up stairs !"
 
 PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 275 
 
 Larry was already running toward the hall, and I 
 heard him springing up the steps like a cat, while Stod- 
 dard and I followed. 
 
 "Where's Bates ?" demanded the chaplain. 
 
 "I'll thank you for the answer," I replied. 
 
 Larry stood at the top of the staircase, holding a 
 candle at arm's length in front of him, staring ahout. 
 
 We could hear quite distinctly some one walking 
 on a stairway; the sounds were unmistakable, just as 
 I had heard them on several previous occasions, without 
 ever being able to trace their source. 
 
 The noise ceased suddenly, leaving us with no hint of 
 its whereabouts. 
 
 I went directly to the rear of the house and found 
 Bates putting the dishes away in the pantry. 
 
 "Where have you been?" I demanded. 
 
 "Here, sir ; I have been clearing up the dinner things, 
 Mr. Glenarm. Is there anything the matter, sir?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 I joined the others in the library. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me this feudal imitation was 
 haunted ?" asked Larry, in a grieved tone. "All it need 
 ed was a cheerful ghost, and now I believe it lacks abso 
 lutely nothing. I'm increasingly glad I came. How 
 often does it walk?"
 
 276 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "It's not on a schedule. Just now it's the wind in 
 the tower probably; the wind plays queer pranks up 
 there sometimes/* 
 
 "You'll have to do better than that, Glenarm," said 
 Stoddard. "It's as still outside as a country grave 
 yard." 
 
 "Only the slaugh sidhe, the people of the faery hills, 
 the cheerfulest ghosts in the world," said Larry. "You 
 literal Saxons can't grasp the idea, of course." 
 
 But there was substance enough in our dangers with 
 out pursuing shadows. Certain things were planned 
 that night. We determined to exercise every precaution 
 to prevent a surprise from without, and we resolved 
 upon a new and systematic sounding of walls and floors, 
 taking our clue from the efforts made by Morgan and 
 his ally to find hiding-places by this process. Picker 
 ing would undoubtedly arrive shortly, and we wished to 
 anticipate his movements as far as possible. 
 
 We resolved, too, upon a day patrol of the grounds 
 and a night guard. The suggestion came, I believe, 
 from Stoddard, whose interest in my affairs was only 
 equaled by the fertility of his suggestions. One of us 
 should remain abroad at night, ready to sound the alarm 
 in case of attack. Bates should take his turn with the 
 rest Stoddard insisted on it. 
 
 Within two days we were, as Larry expressed it, on a
 
 PICKERING SERVES NOTICE 277 
 
 war footing. We added a couple of shot-guns and sev 
 eral revolvers to my own arsenal, and piled the library 
 table with cartridge boxes. Bates, acting as quarter 
 master, brought a couple of wagon-loads of provisions. 
 Stoddard assembled a remarkable collection of heavy 
 sticks ; he had more confidence in them, he said, than in 
 gunpowder, and, moreover, he explained, a priest might 
 not with propriety bear arms. 
 
 It was a cheerful company of conspirators that now 
 gathered around the big hearth. Larry, always rest 
 less, preferred to stand at one side, an elbow on the 
 mantel-shelf, pipe in mouth; and Stoddard sought the 
 biggest chair, and filled it. He and Larry understood 
 each other at once, and Larry's stories, ranging in sub 
 ject from undergraduate experiences at Dublin to ad 
 ventures in Africa and always including endless con 
 flicts with the Irish constabulary, delighted the big boy 
 ish clergyman. 
 
 Often, at some one's suggestion of a new idea, we ran 
 off to explore the house again in search of the key to the 
 Glenarm riddle, and always we came back to the library 
 with that riddle still unsolved.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE RETURN OP MARIAN DEVEREUX 
 
 "Sister Theresa has left, sir." 
 
 Bates had been into Annandale to mail some letters, 
 and I was staring out upon the park from the library 
 windows when he entered. Stoddard, having kept watch 
 the night before, was at home asleep, and Larry was off 
 somewhere in the house, treasure-hunting. I was feel 
 ing decidedly discouraged over our failure to make any 
 progress with our investigations, and Bates' news did 
 not interest me. 
 
 "Well, what of it?" I demanded, without turning 
 round. 
 
 "Nothing, sir ; but Miss Devereux has come back !" 
 
 "The devil !" 
 
 I turned and took a step toward the door. 
 
 "I said Miss Devereux," he repeated in dignified re 
 buke. "She came up this morning, and the Sister left 
 at once for Chicago. Sister Theresa depends particu 
 larly upon Miss Devereux, so I've heard, sir. Miss 
 Devereux quite takes charge when the Sister goes away. 
 
 278
 
 THE RETURN OF MARIAN DEVEREUX 279 
 
 A few of the students are staying in school through the 
 holidays." 
 
 "You seem full of information," I remarked, taking 
 another step toward my hat and coat. 
 
 "And I've learned something else, sir." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "They all came together, sir." 
 
 "Who came; if you please, Bates?" 
 
 "Why, the people who've been traveling with Mr. 
 Pickering came back with him, and Miss Devereux came 
 with them from Cincinnati. That's what I learned in 
 the village. And Mr. Pickering is going to stay " 
 
 "Pickering stay !" 
 
 "At his cottage on the lake for a while. The reason 
 is that he's worn out with his work, and wishes quiet. 
 The other people went back to New York in the car." 
 
 "He's opened a summer cottage in mid-winter, has 
 he?" 
 
 I had been blue enough without this news. Marian 
 Devereux had come back to Annandale with Arthur 
 Pickering; my faith in her snapped like a reed at this 
 astounding news. She was now entitled to my grand 
 father's property and she had lost no time in returning 
 as soon as she and Pickering had discussed together at 
 the Armstrongs' my flight from Annandale. Her re 
 turn could have no other meaning than that there was a
 
 280 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 strong tie between them, and he was now to stay on the 
 ground until I should be dispossessed and her rights 
 established. She had led me to follow her, and my for 
 feiture had been sealed by that stolen interview at the 
 Armstrongs'. It was a black record, and the thought of 
 it angered me against myself and the world. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Donovan that I've gone to St. Agatha's," 
 I said, and I was soon striding toward the school. 
 
 A Sister admitted me. I heard the sound of a piano, 
 somewhere in the building, and I consigned the in 
 ventor of pianos to hideous torment as scales were 
 pursued endlessly up and down the keys. Two girls 
 passing through the hall made a pretext of looking for 
 a book and came in and exclaimed over their inability 
 to find it with much suppressed giggling. 
 
 The piano-pounding continued and I waited for what 
 seemed an interminable time. It was growing dark and 
 a maid lighted the oil lamps. I took a book from the 
 table. It was The Life of Benvenuto Cellini and "Ma 
 rian Devereux" was written on the fly leaf, by unmis 
 takably the same hand that penned the apology for 
 Olivia's performances. I saw in the clear flowing lines 
 of the signature, in their lack of superfluity, her own 
 ease, grace and charm; and, in the deeper stroke with 
 which the x was crossed, I felt a challenge, a readiness 
 to abide by consequences once her word was given.
 
 THE RETURN OF MARIAX DEVEREUX 281 
 
 Then my own inclination to think well of her angered 
 me. It was only a pretty bit of chirography, and I 
 dropped the book impatiently when I heard her step 
 on the threshold. 
 
 "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Glenarm. 
 But this is my busy hour." 
 
 "I shall not detain you long. I came," I hesitated, 
 not knowing why I had come. 
 
 She took a chair near the open door and bent forward 
 with an air of attention that was disquieting. She 
 wore black perhaps to fit her the better into the house 
 of a somber Sisterhood. I seemed suddenly to remem 
 ber her from a time long gone, and the effort of memory 
 threw me off guard. Stoddard had said there were 
 several Olivia Armstrongs; there were certainly many 
 Marian Devereuxs. The silence grew intolerable; she 
 was waiting for me to speak, and I blurted : 
 
 "I suppose you have come to take charge of the prop 
 erty." 
 
 "Do you ?" she asked. 
 
 "And you came back with the executor to facilitate 
 matters. I'm glad to see that you lose no time." 
 
 "Oh !" she said lingeringly, as though she were find 
 ing with difficulty the note in which I wished to pitch 
 the conversation. Her calmness was maddening. 
 
 "I suppose you thought it unwise to wait for the
 
 282 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 bluebird when you had beguiled me into breaking a 
 promise, when I was trapped, defeated, ' 
 
 Her elbow on the arm of the chair, her hand resting 
 against her cheek, the light rippling goldenly in her 
 hair, her eyes bent upon me inquiringly, mournfully, 
 mournfully, as I had seen them where ? once before ! 
 My heart leaped in that moment, with that thought. 
 
 "I remember now the first time !" I exclaimed, more 
 angry than I had ever been before in my life. 
 
 "That is quite remarkable," she said, and nodded her 
 head ironically. 
 
 "It was at Sherry's; you were with Pickering you 
 dropped your fan and he picked it up, and you turned 
 toward me for a moment. You were in black that 
 night; it was the unhappiness in your face, in your 
 eyes, that made me remember." 
 
 I was intent upon the recollection, eager to fix and 
 establish it. 
 
 "You are quite right. It was at Sherry's. I was 
 wearing black then; many things made me unhappy 
 that night." 
 
 Her forehead contracted slightly and she pressed her 
 lips together. 
 
 "I suppose that even then the conspiracy was thor 
 oughly arranged," I said tauntingly, laughing a little
 
 THE RETURN OF MARIAN DEVEREUX 283 
 
 perhaps, and wishing to wound her, to take vengeance 
 upon her. 
 
 She rose and stood by her chair, one hand resting 
 upon it. I faced her; her eyes were like violet seas. 
 She spoke very quietly. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, has it occurred to you that when I 
 talked to you there in the park, when I risked unpleas 
 ant gossip in receiving you in a house where you had 
 no possible right to be, that I was counting upon some 
 thing, foolishly and stupidly, yet counting upon it ?" 
 
 "You probably thought I was a fool," I retorted. 
 
 "No;" she smiled slightly "I thought I believe 
 I have said this to you before ! you were a gentleman. 
 I really did, Mr. Glenarm. I must say it to justify 
 myself. I relied upon your chivalry; I even thought, 
 when I played being Olivia, that you had a sense of 
 honor. But you are not the one and you haven't the 
 other. I even went so far, after you knew perfectly 
 well who I was, as to try to help you to give you an 
 other chance to prove yourself the man your grandfather 
 wished you to be. And now you come to me in a shock 
 ing bad humor, I really think you would like to be 
 insulting, Mr. Glenarm, if you could." 
 
 "But Pickering, you came back with him; he is 
 here and he's going to stay ! And now that the prop-
 
 284 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 erty belongs to you, there is not the slightest reason why 
 we should make any pretense of anything but enmity. 
 When you and Arthur Pickering stand together I take 
 the other side of the barricade! I suppose chivalry 
 would require me to vacate, so that you may enjoy at 
 once the spoils of war.*' 
 
 "I fancy it would not be very difficult to eliminate 
 you as a factor in the situation," she remarked icily. 
 
 "And I suppose, after the unsuccessful efforts of Mr. 
 Pickering's allies to assassinate me, as a mild form of 
 elimination, one would naturally expect me to sit calmly 
 down and wait to be shot in the back. But you may tell 
 Mr. Pickering that I throw myself upon your mercy. 
 I have no other home than this shell over the way, and 
 I beg to be allowed to remain until at least the blue 
 birds come. I hope it will not embarrass you to deliver 
 the message." 
 
 "I quite sympathize with your reluctance to deliver 
 it yourself," she said. "Is this all you came to say ?" 
 
 "I came to tell you that you could have the house, 
 and everything in its hideous walls," I snapped; "to 
 tell you that my chivalry is enough for some situations 
 and that I don't intend to fight a woman. I had ac 
 cepted your own renouncement of the legacy in good 
 part, but now, please believe me, it shall be yours to-
 
 THE RETURN OF MARIAN DEVEREUX 285 
 
 morrow. I'll yield possession to you whenever you ask 
 it, but never to Arthur Pickering! As against him 
 and his treasure-hunters and assassins I will hold out 
 for a dozen years !" 
 
 "Nobly spoken, Mr. Glenarm ! Yours is really an 
 admirable, though somewhat complex character." 
 
 "My character is my own, whatever it is," I blurted. 
 
 "I shouldn't call that a debatable proposition," she 
 replied, and I was angry to find how the mirth I had 
 loved in her could suddenly become so hateful. She 
 half -turned away so that I might not see her face. The 
 thought that she should countenance Pickering in any 
 way tore me with jealous rage. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, you are what I have heard called a 
 quitter, defined in common Americanese as one who 
 quits ! Your blustering here this afternoon can hardly 
 conceal the fact of your failure, your inability to keep 
 a promise. I had hoped you would really be of some 
 help to Sister Theresa; you quite deceived her, she 
 told me as she left to-day that she thought well of you, 
 she really felt that her fortunes were safe in your 
 hands. But, of course, that is all a matter of past his 
 tory now." 
 
 Her tone, changing from cold indifference to the 
 most severe disdain, stung me into self-pity for my stu-
 
 286 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 pidity in having sought her. My anger was not against 
 her, but against Pickering, who had, I persuaded myself, 
 always blocked my path. She went on. 
 
 "You really amuse me exceedingly. Mr. Pickering 
 is decidedly more than a match for you, Mr. Glenarm, 
 even in humor." 
 
 She left me so quickly, so softly, that I stood staring 
 like a fool at the spot where she had been, and then I 
 went gloomily back to Glenarm House, angry, ashamed 
 and crestfallen. 
 
 While we were waiting for dinner I made a clean 
 breast of my acquaintance with her to Larry, omitting 
 nothing, rejoicing even to paint my own conduct as 
 black as possible. 
 
 "You may remember her," I concluded, "she was the 
 girl we saw at Sherry's that night we dined there. She 
 was with Pickering, and you noticed her, spoke of her, 
 as she went out." 
 
 "That little girl who seemed so bored, or tired ? Bless 
 me! Why her eyes haunted me for days. Lord man, 
 do you mean to say " 
 
 A look of utter scorn came into his face, and he eyed 
 me contemptuously. 
 
 "Of course I mean it !" I thundered at him. 
 
 He took the pipe from his mouth, pressed the tobacco
 
 THE RETURN OF MARIAN DEVEREUX 287 
 
 viciously into the bowl, and swore steadily in Gaelic 
 until I was ready to choke him. 
 
 "Stop !" I bawled. "Do you think that's helping me ? 
 And to have you curse in your blackguardly Irish dia 
 lect! I wanted a little Anglo-Saxon sympathy, you 
 fool ! I didn't mean for you to invoke your infamous 
 gods against the girl !" 
 
 "Don't be violent, lad. Violence is reprehensible," 
 he admonished with maddening sweetness and patience. 
 "What I was trying to inculcate was rather the fact, 
 borne in upon me through years of acquaintance, that 
 you are, to be bold, my lad, to be bold, a good deal 
 of a damned fool." 
 
 The trilling of his r's was like the whirring rise of 
 a flock of quails. 
 
 "Dinner is served," announced Bates, and Larry led 
 the way, mockingly chanting an Irish love-song.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 
 
 We had established the practice of barring all the 
 gates and doors at nightfall. There was no way of 
 guarding against an attack from the lake, whose frozen 
 surface increased the danger from without; but we 
 counted on our night patrol to prevent a surprise from 
 that quarter. I was well aware that I must prepare to 
 resist the militant arm of the law, which Pickering 
 would no doubt invoke to aid him, but I intended to 
 exhaust the possibilities in searching for the lost treas 
 ure before I yielded. Pickering might, if he would, 
 transfer the estate of John Marshall Glenarm to Marian 
 Devereux and make the most he could of that service, 
 but he should not drive me forth until I had satisfied 
 myself of the exact character of my grandfather's for 
 tune. If it had vanished, if Pickering had stolen it 
 and outwitted me in making off with it, that was an 
 other matter. 
 
 The phrase, "The Door of Bewilderment," had never 
 ceased to reiterate itself in my mind. We discussed a 
 
 288
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 289 
 
 thousand explanations of it as we pondered over the 
 scrap of paper I had found in the library, and every 
 book in the house was examined in the search for further 
 clues. 
 
 The passage between the house and the chapel seemed 
 to fascinate Larry. He held that it must have some 
 particular use and he devoted his time to exploring it. 
 
 He came up at noon it was the twenty-ninth of 
 December with grimy face and hands and a grin on his 
 face. I had spent my morning in the towers, where it 
 was beastly cold, to no purpose and was not in a mood 
 for the ready acceptance of new theories. 
 
 "I've found something," he said, filling his pipe. 
 
 "Not soap, evidently !" 
 
 "No, but I'm going to say the last word on the tun 
 nel, and within an hour. Give me a glass of beer and a 
 piece of bread, and we'll go back and see whether we're 
 sold again or not." 
 
 "Let us explore the idea and be done with it. Wait 
 till I tell Stoddard where we're going." 
 
 The chaplain was trying the second-floor walls, and 
 I asked him to eat some luncheon and stand guard while 
 Larry and I went to the tunnel. 
 
 We took with us an iron bar, an ax and a couple of 
 hammers. Larry went ahead with a lantern. 
 
 "You see," he explained, as we dropped through the
 
 290 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 trap into the passage, "I've tried a compass on this 
 tunnel and find that we've been working on the wrong 
 theory. The passage itself runs a straight line from 
 the house under the gate to the crypt; the ravine is a 
 rough crescent-shape and for a short distance the tunnel 
 touches it. How deep does that ravine average about 
 thirty feet ?" 
 
 "Yes; it's shallowest where the house stands. It 
 drops sharply from there on to the lake." 
 
 "Very good ; but the ravine is all on the Glenarm side 
 of the wall, isn't it ? Now when we get under the wall 
 I'll show you something." 
 
 "Here we are," said Larry, as the cold air blew in 
 through the hollow posts. "Now we're pretty near that 
 sharp curve of the ravine that dips away from the wall. 
 Take the lantern while I get out the compass. What 
 do you think that C on the piece of paper means ? Why, 
 chapel, of course. I have measured the distance from 
 the house, the point of departure, we may assume, to 
 the chapel, and three-fourths of it brings us under those 
 beautiful posts. The directions are as plain as day 
 light. The passage itself is your N. W., as the compass 
 proves, and the ravine cuts close in here ; therefore, our 
 business is to explore the wall on the ravine side." 
 
 "Good ! but this is just wall here earth with a layer 
 of brick and a thin coat of cement. A nice job it must
 
 have been to do the work, and it cost the price of a 
 tiger hunt," I grumbled. 
 
 "Take heart, lad, and listen," and Larry began 
 pounding the wall with a hammer, exactly under the 
 north gate-post. We had sounded everything in and 
 about the house until the process bored me. 
 
 "Hurry up and get through with it," I jerked impa 
 tiently, holding the lantern at the level of his head. It 
 was sharply cold under the posts and I was anxious to 
 prove the worthlessness of his idea and be done. 
 
 Thump ! thump ! 
 
 "There's a place here that sounds a trifle off the key. 
 You try it." 
 
 I snatched the hammer and repeated his soundings. 
 
 Thump ! thump ! 
 
 There was a space about four feet square in the wall 
 that certainly gave forth a hollow sound. 
 
 "Stand back !" exclaimed Larry eagerly. "Here goes 
 with the ax." 
 
 He struck into the wall sharply and the cement 
 chipped off in rough pieces, disclosing the brick be 
 neath. Larry paused when he had uncovered a foot of 
 the inner layer, and examined the surface. 
 
 "They're loose these bricks are loose, and there's 
 something besides earth behind them !" 
 
 I snatched the hammer and drove hard at the wall.
 
 293 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 The bricks were set up without mortar, and I plucked 
 them out and rapped with my knuckles on a wooden 
 surface. 
 
 Even Larry grew excited as we flung out the bricks. 
 
 "Ah, lad," he said, "the old gentleman had a way 
 with him he had a way with him !" A brick dropped 
 on his foot and he howled in pain. 
 
 "Bless the old gentleman's heart ! He made it as 
 easy for us as he could. Xow, for the Glenarm millions, 
 red money all piled up for the ease of counting it, 
 a thousand pounds in every pile." 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Larry," I coughed at him, for the 
 brick dust and the smoke of Larry's pipe made breath 
 ing difficult. 
 
 "That's all the loose brick, bring the lantern closer,'' 
 and we peered through the aperture upon a wooden 
 door, in which strips of iron were deep-set. It was fas 
 tened with a padlock and Larry reached down for the ax. 
 
 "Wait !" I called, drawing closer with the lantern. 
 "What's this?" 
 
 The wood of the door was fresh and white, but burned 
 deep on the surface, in this order, were the words: 
 
 THE DOOR 
 
 OF 
 BEWILDERMENT
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 293 
 
 "There are dead men inside, I dare say! Here, my 
 lad, it's not for me to turn loose the family skeletons/' 
 and Larry stood aside while I swung the ax and 
 brought it down with a crash on the padlock. It was 
 of no flimsy stuff and the remaining bricks cramped me, 
 but half a dozen blows broke it off. 
 
 "The house of a thousand ghosts," chanted the irre 
 pressible Larry, as I pushed the door open and crawled 
 through. 
 
 Whatever the place was it had a floor and I set my 
 feet firmly upon it and turned to take the lantern. 
 
 "Hold a bit," he exclaimed. "Some one's coming," 
 and bending toward the opening I heard the sound 
 of steps down the corridor. In a moment Bates ran up, 
 calling my name with more spirit than I imagined pos 
 sible in him. 
 
 "What is it?" I demanded, crawling out into the 
 tunnel. 
 
 "It's Mr. Pickering. The sheriff has come with him, 
 sir." 
 
 As he spoke his glance fell upon the broken wall and 
 open door. The light of Larry's lantern struck full 
 upon him. Amazement, and, I thought, a certain satis 
 faction, were marked upon his countenance. 
 
 "Run along, Jack, I'll be up a little later," said 
 Larry. "If the fellow has come in daylight with the
 
 294 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 sheriff, he isn't dangerous. It's his friends that shoot 
 in the dark that give us the trouble." 
 
 I crawled out and stood upright. Bates, staring at 
 the opening, seemed reluctant to leave the spot. 
 
 'Turn seem to have found it, sir," he said, I thought 
 a little chokingly. His interest in the matter nettled 
 me; for my first business was to go above for an inter^ 
 view with the executor, and the value of our discovery 
 was secondary. 
 
 "Of course we have found it !" I ejaculated, brushing 
 the dust from my clothes. "Is Mr. Stoddard in the 
 library ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir ; I left him entertaining the gentlemen." 
 
 "Their visit is certainly most inopportune," said 
 Larry. "Give them my compliments and tell them I'll 
 be up as soon as I've articulated the bones of my friend's 
 ancestors." 
 
 Bates strode on ahead of me with his lantern, and I 
 left Larry crawling through the new-found door as I 
 hurried toward the house. I knew him well enough to 
 be sure he would not leave the spot until he had found 
 what lay behind the Door of Bewilderment. 
 
 "You didn't tell the callers where you expected to 
 find me, did you ?" I asked Bates, as he brushed me off 
 in the kitchen. 
 
 "No, sir. Mr. Stoddard received the gentlemen. He
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 295 
 
 rang the bell for me and when I went into the library 
 he was saying, 'Mr. Glenarm is at his studies. Bates/ 
 he says 'kindly tell Mr. Glenarm that I'm sorry to in 
 terrupt him, but won't he please come down ?' I thought 
 it rather neat, sir, considering his clerical office. I 
 knew you were below somewhere, sir; the trap-door was 
 open and I found you easily enough/' 
 
 Bates' eyes were brighter than I had ever seen them. 
 A certain buoyant note gave an entirely new tone to 
 his voice. He walked ahead of me to the library door, 
 threw it open and stood aside. 
 
 "Here you are, Glenarm," said Stoddard. Pickering 
 and a stranger stood near the fireplace in their over 
 coats. 
 
 Pickering advanced and offered his hand, but I 
 turned away from him without taking it. His compan 
 ion, a burly countryman, stood staring, a paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 "The sheriff," Pickering explained, "and our business 
 is rather personal " 
 
 He glanced at Stoddard, who looked at me. 
 
 "Mr. Stoddard will do me the kindness to remain," 
 I said and took my stand beside the chaplain. 
 
 "Oh !" Pickering ejaculated scornfully. "I didn't 
 understand that you had established relations with the 
 neighboring clergy. Your taste is improving, Glenarm."
 
 296 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm is a friend of mine/' remarked Stod- 
 dard quietly. "A very particular friend," he added. 
 
 "I congratulate you both." 
 
 I laughed. Pickering was surveying the room as he 
 spoke, and Stoddard suddenly stepped toward him, 
 merely, I think, to draw up a chair for the sheriff ; but 
 Pickering, not hearing Stoddard's step on the soft rug 
 until the clergyman was close beside him, started per 
 ceptibly and reddened. 
 
 It was certainly ludicrous, and when Stoddard faced 
 me again he was biting his lip. 
 
 "Pardon me !" he murmured. 
 
 "Kow, gentlemen, will you kindly state your busi 
 ness ? My own affairs press me." 
 
 Pickering was studying the cartridge boxes on the 
 library table. The sheriff, too, was viewing these effects 
 with interest not, I think, unmixed with awe. 
 
 "Glenarm, I don't like to invoke the law to eject you 
 from this property, but I am left with no alternative. 
 I can't stay out here indefinitely, and I want to know 
 what I'm to expect." 
 
 "That is a fair question," I replied. "If it were 
 merely a matter of following the terms of the will I 
 should not hesitate or be here now. But it isn't the will, 
 or my grandfather, that keeps me, it's the determina 
 tion to give you all the annoyance possible, to make it
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 297 
 
 hard and mighty hard for you to get hold of this house 
 until I have found why you are so much interested 
 in it." 
 
 "You always had a grand way in money matters. As 
 I told you before you came out here, it's a poor stake. 
 The assets consist wholly of this land and this house, 
 whose quality you have had an excellent opportunity 
 to test. You have doubtless heard that the country 
 people believe there is money concealed here, but I 
 dare say you have exhausted the possibilities. This is 
 not the first time a rich man has died leaving precious 
 little behind him." 
 
 "You seem very anxious to get possession of a prop 
 erty that you call a poor stake," I said. "A few acres 
 of land, a half-finished house and an uncertain claim 
 upon a school-teacher !" 
 
 "I had no idea you would understand it," he replied. 
 "The fact that a man may be under oath to perform 
 the solemn duties imposed upon him by the law would 
 hardly appeal to you. But I haven't come here to debate 
 this question. When are you going to leave?" 
 
 "Not till I'm ready, thanks !" 
 
 "Mr. Sheriff, will you serve your writ?" he said, and 
 I looked to Stoddard for any hint from him as to what 
 I should do. 
 
 "I believe Mr. Glenarm is quite willing to hear what-
 
 298 THE HOUSE OP A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 ever the sheriff has to say to him/' said Stoddard. He 
 stepped nearer to me, as though to emphasize the fact 
 that he belonged to my side of the controversy, and the 
 sheriff read an order of the Wabana County Circuit 
 Court directing me, immediately, to deliver the house 
 and grounds into the keeping of the executor of the 
 will of the estate of John Marshall Glenarm. 
 
 The sheriff rather enjoyed holding the center of the 
 stage, and I listened quietly to the unfamiliar phrase 
 ology. Before he had quite finished I heard a step in 
 the hall and Larry appeared at the door, pipe in mouth. 
 Pickering turned toward him frowning, but Larry paid 
 not the slightest attention to the executor, leaning 
 against the door with his usual tranquil unconcern. 
 
 "I advise you not to trifle with the law, Glenarm," 
 said Pickering angrily. "You have absolutely no right 
 whatever to be here. And these other gentlemen your 
 guests, I suppose are equally trespassers under the 
 law." 
 
 He stared at Larry, who crossed his legs for greater 
 ease in adjusting his lean frame to the door. 
 
 <r Well, Mr. Pickering, what is the next step?" asked 
 the sheriff, with an importance that had been increased 
 by the legal phrases he had been reading. 
 
 "Mr. Pickering," said Larry, straightening up and 
 taking the pipe from his mouth, "I'm Mr. Glenarm's
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 299 
 
 counsel. If you will do me the kindness to ask the 
 sheriff to retire for a moment I should like to say a 
 few words to you that you might prefer to keep between 
 ourselves." 
 
 I had usually found it wise to take any cue Larry 
 threw me, and I said: 
 
 "Pickering, this is Mr. Donovan, who has every au 
 thority to act for me in the matter." 
 
 Pickering looked impatiently from one to the other 
 of us. 
 
 "You seem to have the guns, the ammunition and the 
 numbers on your side," he observed dryly. 
 
 "The sheriff may wait within call," said Larry, and 
 at a word from Pickering the man left the room. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Pickering," Larry spoke slowly, "as 
 my friend has explained the case to me, the assets of 
 his grandfather's estate are all accounted for, the land 
 hereabouts, this house, the ten thousand dollars in se 
 curities and a somewhat vague claim against a lady 
 known as Sister Theresa, who conducts St. Agatha's 
 School. Is that correct ?" 
 
 "I don't ask you to take my word for it, sir," rejoined 
 Pickering hotly. "I have filed an inventory of the 
 estate, so far as found, with the proper authorities." 
 
 "Certainly. But I merely wish to be sure of my facts 
 for the purpose of this interview, to save me the trouble
 
 300 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 of going to the records. And, moreover, I am somewhat 
 unfamiliar with your procedure in this country. I am 
 a member, sir, of the Irish Bar. Pardon me, but I re 
 peat my question." 
 
 "I have made oath that, I trust, is sufficient even 
 for a member of the Irish Bar." 
 
 "Quite so, Mr. Pickering," said Larry, nodding his 
 head gravely. 
 
 He was not, to be sure, a presentable member of any 
 bar, for a smudge detracted considerably from the ap 
 pearance of one side of his face, his clothes were rum 
 pled and covered with black dust, and his hands were 
 black. But I had rarely seen him so calm. He recrossed 
 his legs, peered into the bowl of his pipe for a moment, 
 then asked, as quietly as though he were soliciting an 
 opinion of the weather : 
 
 "Will you tell me, Mr. Pickering, whether you your 
 self are a debtor of John Marshall Glenarm's estate ?" 
 
 Pickering's face grew white and his eyes stared, and 
 when he tried suddenly to speak his jaw twitched. The 
 room was so still that the breaking of a blazing log on 
 the andirons was a pleasant relief. We stood, the three 
 of us, with our eyes on Pickering, and in my own case 
 I must say that my heart was pounding my ribs at an 
 uncomfortable speed, for I knew Larry was not sparring 
 for time.
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 301 
 
 The blood rushed into Pickering's face and he turned 
 toward Larry stormily. 
 
 "This is unwarrantable and infamous ! My relations 
 with Mr. Glenarm are none of your business. When 
 you remember that after being deserted by his own flesh 
 and blood he appealed to me, going so far as to intrust 
 all his affairs to my care at his death, your reflection 
 is an outrageous insult. I am not accountable to you 
 or any one else !" 
 
 "Really, there's a good deal in all that," said Larry. 
 "We don't pretend to any judicial functions. We are 
 perfectly willing to submit the whole business and all 
 my client's acts to the authorities." 
 
 (I would give much if I could reproduce some hint 
 of the beauty of that word authorities as it rolled from 
 Larry's tongue !) 
 
 "Then, in God's name, do it, you blackguards!" 
 roared Pickering. 
 
 Stoddard, sitting on a table, knocked his heels to 
 gether gently. Larry recrossed his legs and blew a 
 cloud of smoke. Then, after a quarter of a minute in 
 which he gazed at the ceiling with his quiet blue eyes, 
 he said : 
 
 "Yes ; certainly, there are always the authorities. And 
 as I have a tremendous respect for your American in 
 stitutions I shall at once act on your suggestion. Mr.
 
 302 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 Pickering, the estate is richer than you thought it was. 
 It holds, or will hold, your notes given to the decedent 
 for three hundred and twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 He drew from his pocket a brown envelope, walked 
 to where I stood and placed it in my hands. 
 
 At the same time Stoddard's big figure grew active, 
 and before I realized that Pickering had leaped toward 
 the packet, the executor was sitting in a chair, where the 
 chaplain had thrown him. He rallied promptly, stuffing 
 his necktie into his waistcoat ; he even laughed a little. 
 
 "So much old paper! You gentlemen are perfectly 
 welcome to it/' 
 
 "Thank you!" jerked Larry. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm and I had many transactions together, 
 and he must have forgotten to destroy those papers." 
 
 "Quite likely," I remarked. "It is interesting to 
 know that Sister Theresa wasn't his only debtor." 
 
 Pickering stepped to the door and called the sheriff. 
 
 "I shall give you until to-morrow morning at nine 
 o'clock to vacate the premises. The court understands 
 this situation perfectly. These claims are utterly worth 
 less, as I am ready to prove." 
 
 "Perfectly, perfectly," repeated the sheriff. 
 
 "I believe that is all," said Larry, pointing to the 
 door with his pipe.
 
 THE DOOR OF BEWILDERMENT 303 
 
 The sheriff was regarding him with particular atten 
 tion. 
 
 "What did I understand your name to be?" he de 
 manded. 
 
 "Laurance Donovan," Larry replied coolly. 
 
 Pickering seemed to notice the name now and his eyes 
 lighted disagreeably. 
 
 "I think I have heard of your friend before," he said, 
 turning to me. "I congratulate you on the international 
 reputation of your counsel. He's esteemed so highly in 
 Ireland that they offer a large reward for his return. 
 Sheriff, I think we have finished our business for 
 to-day." 
 
 He seemed anxious to get the man away, and we gave 
 them escort to the outer gate where a horse and buggy 
 were waiting. 
 
 "Now, I'm in for it," said Larry, as I locked the gate. 
 "We've spiked one of his guns, but I've given him a new 
 one to use against myself. But come, and I will show 
 you the Door of Bewilderment before I skip."
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV 
 
 A PROWLER OF THE NIGHT 
 
 Down we plunged into the cellar, through the trap 
 and to the Door of Bewilderment. 
 
 "Don't expect too much," admonished Larry; "I 
 can't promise you a single Spanish coin." 
 
 "Perish the ambition ! We have blocked Pickering's 
 game, and nothing else matters," I said. 
 
 We crawled through the hole in the wall and lighted 
 candles. The room was about seven feet square. At 
 the farther end was an oblong wooden door, close to the 
 ceiling, and Larry tugged at the fastening until it came 
 down, bringing with it a mass of snow and leaves. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "we are at the edge of the 
 ravine. Do you see the blue sky? And yonder, if you 
 will twist your necks a bit, is the boat-house." 
 
 "Well, let the scenic effects go and show us where 
 you found those papers," I urged. 
 
 "Speaking of mysteries, that is where I throw up my 
 hands, lads. It's quickly told. Here is a table, and here 
 is a tin despatch box, which lies just where I found it. 
 
 304
 
 A PROWLEE OF THE NIGHT 305 
 
 It was closed and the key was in the lock. I took out 
 that packet it wasn't even sealed saw the character 
 of the contents, and couldn't resist the temptation to 
 try the effect of an announcement of its discovery on 
 your friend Pickering. Now that is nearly all. I found 
 this piece of paper under the tape with which the en 
 velope was tied, and I don't hesitate to say that when 
 I read it I laughed until I thought I should shake 
 down the cellar. Eead it, John Glenarm !" 
 
 He handed me a sheet of legal-cap paper on which 
 was written these words: 
 
 HE LAUGHS BEST WHO LAUGHS LAST 
 
 "What do you think is so funny in this ?" I demanded. 
 
 "Who wrote it, do you think ?" asked Stoddard. 
 
 "Who wrote it, do you ask? Why, your grandfather 
 wrote it ! John Marshall Glenarm, the cleverest, grand 
 est old man that ever lived, wrote it !" declaimed Larry, 
 his voice booming loudly in the room. "It's all a great 
 big game, fixed up to try you and Pickering, but prin 
 cipally you, you blockhead! Oh, it's grand, perfectly, 
 deliciously grand, and to think it should be my good 
 luck to share in it !" 
 
 "Humph! I'm glad you're amused, but it doesn't 
 strike me as being so awfully funny. Suppose those
 
 306 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 papers had fallen into Pickering's hands; then where 
 would the joke have been, I should like to know !" 
 
 "On you, my lad, to be sure! The old gentleman 
 wanted you to study architecture; he wanted you to 
 study his house; he even left a little pointer in an old 
 book ! Oh, it's too good to be true !" 
 
 "That's all clear enough," observed Stoddard, knock 
 ing upon the despatch box with his knuckles. "But why 
 do you suppose he dug this hole here with its outlet on 
 the ravine ?" 
 
 "Oh, it was the way of him !" explained Larry. "He 
 liked the idea of queer corners and underground pas 
 sages. This is a bully hiding-place for man or treasure, 
 and that outlet into the ravine makes it possible to get 
 out of the house with nobody the wiser. It's in keeping 
 with the rest of his scheme. Be gay, comrades ! To 
 morrow will likely find us with plenty of business on 
 our hands. At present we hold the fort, and let us have 
 a care lest we lose it." 
 
 We closed the ravine door, restored the brick as best 
 we could, and returned to the library. We made a list 
 of the Pickering notes and spent an hour discussing this 
 new feature of the situation. 
 
 "That's a large amount of money to lend one man," 
 said Stoddard. 
 
 "True; and from that we may argue that Mr. Glen-
 
 307 
 
 arm didn't give Pickering all he had. There's more 
 somewhere. If only I didn't have to run " and Larry's 
 face fell as he remembered his own plight. 
 
 "I'm a selfish pig, old man ! I've been thinking only 
 of my own affairs. But I never relied on you as much 
 as now !" 
 
 "Those fellows will sound the alarm against Dono 
 van, without a doubt, on general principles and to land 
 a blow on you," remarked Stoddard thoughtfully. 
 
 "But you can get away, Larry. We'll help you off 
 to-night. I don't intend to stand between you and lib 
 erty. This extradition business is no joke, if they 
 ever get you back in Ireland it will be no fun getting 
 you off. You'd better run for it before Pickering and 
 his sheriff spring their trap." 
 
 "Yes; that's the wise course. Glenarm and I can 
 hold the fort here. His is a moral issue, really, and I'm 
 in for a siege of a thousand years," said the clergyman 
 earnestly, "if it's necessary to beat Pickering. I may 
 go to jail in the end, too, I suppose." 
 
 "I want you both to leave. It's unfair to mix you 
 up in this ugly business of mine. Your stake's bigger 
 than mine, Larry. And yours, too, Stoddard ; why, your 
 whole future your professional standing and prospects 
 would be ruined if we got into a fight here with the au 
 thorities."
 
 308 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Thank you for mentioning my prospects! I've 
 never had them referred to before," laughed Stoddard. 
 "No ; your grandfather was a friend of the Church and 
 I can't desert his memory. I'm a believer in a vigorous 
 Church militant and I'm enlisted for the whole war. 
 But Donovan ought to go, if he will allow me to advise 
 him." 
 
 Larry filled his pipe at the fireplace. 
 
 "Lads," he said, his hands behind him, rocking gently 
 as was his way, "let us talk of art and letters, I'm go 
 ing to stay. It hasn't often happened in my life that 
 the whole setting of the stage has pleased me as much 
 as this. Lost treasure; secret passages; a gentleman 
 rogue storming the citadel; a private chaplain on the 
 premises ; a young squire followed by a limelight ; sher 
 iff, school-girls and a Sisterhood distributed through 
 the landscape, and me, with Scotland Yard looming 
 duskily in the distance. Glenarm, I'm going to stay." 
 
 There was no shaking him, and the spirits of all of 
 us rose after this new pledge of loyalty. Stoddard 
 stayed for dinner, and afterward we began again our 
 eternal quest for the treasure, our hopes high from 
 Larry's lucky strike of the afternoon, and with a new 
 eagerness born of the knowledge that the morrow would 
 certainly bring us face to face with the real crisis. We
 
 r A PROWLER OF THE NIGHT 
 
 ranged the house from tower to cellar; we overhauled 
 the tunnel, for, it seemed to me, the hundredth time. 
 
 It was my watch, and at midnight, after Stoddard and 
 Larry had reconnoitered the grounds and Bates and I 
 had made sure of all the interior fastenings, I sent 
 them off to hed and made myself comfortable with a 
 pipe in the library. 
 
 I was glad of the respite, glad to be alone, to con 
 sider my talk with Marian Devereux at St. Agatha's, 
 and her return with Pickering. Why could she not al 
 ways have been Olivia, roaming the woodland, or the 
 girl in gray, or that woman, so sweet in her dignity, 
 who came down the stairs at the Armstrongs'? Her 
 own attitude toward me was so full of contradictions; 
 she had appeared to me in so many moods and guises, 
 that my spirit ranged the whole gamut of feeling as I 
 thought of her. But it was the recollection of Picker 
 ing's infamous conduct that colored all my doubts of 
 her. Pickering had always been in my way, and here, 
 but for the chance by which Larry had found the notes, 
 I should have had no weapon to use against him. 
 
 The wind rose and drove shrilly around the house. 
 A bit of scaffolding on the outer walls rattled loose 
 somewhere and crashed down on the terrace. I grew 
 restless, my mind intent upon the many chances of the
 
 310 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 morrow, and running forward to the future. Even if 
 I won in my strife with Pickering I had yet my way 
 to make in the world. His notes were probably worth 
 less, I did not doubt that. I might use them to pro 
 cure his removal as executor, but I did not look forward 
 with any pleasure to a legal fight over a property that 
 had brought me only trouble. 
 
 Something impelled me to go below, and, taking a 
 lantern, I tramped somberly through the cellar, glanced 
 at the heating apparatus, and, remembering that the 
 chapel entrance to the tunnel was unguarded, followed 
 the corridor to the trap, and opened it. The cold air 
 blew up sharply and I thrust my head down to listen. 
 
 A sound at once arrested me. I thought at first it 
 must be the suction of the air, but Glenarm House was 
 no place for conjectures, and I put the lantern aside and 
 jumped down into the tunnel. A gleam of light showed 
 for an instant, then the darkness and silence were com 
 plete. 
 
 I ran rapidly over the smooth floor, which I had trav 
 ersed so often that I knew its every line. My only 
 weapon was one of Stoddard's clubs. Near the Door 
 of Bewilderment I paused and listened. The tunnel 
 was perfectly quiet. I took a step forward and stum 
 bled over a brick, fumbled on the wall for the opening 
 which we had closed carefully that afternoon, and at
 
 A PEOWLER OF THE NIGHT 311 
 
 the instant I found it a lantern flashed blindingly in 
 my face and I drew back, crouching involuntarily, and 
 clenching the club ready to strike. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Glenarm !" 
 
 Marian Devereux's voice broke the silence, and Ma 
 rian Devereux's face, with the full light of the lantern 
 upon it, was bent gravely upon me. Her voice, as I 
 heard it there, her face, as I saw it there, are the 
 things that I shall remember last when my hour comes 
 to go hence from this world. The slim fingers, as they 
 clasped the wire screen of the lantern, held my gaze for 
 a second. The red tam-o'-shanter that I had associated 
 with her youth and beauty was tilted rakishly on one 
 side of her pretty head. To find her here, seeking, like 
 a thief in the night, for some means of helping Arthur 
 Pickering, was the bitterest drop in the cup. I felt as 
 though I had been struck with a bludgeon. 
 
 "I beg your pardon !" she said, and laughed. "There 
 doesn't seem to be anything to say, does there? Well, 
 we do certainly meet under the most unusual, not to say 
 unconventional, circumstances, Squire Glenarm. Please 
 go away or turn your back. I want to get out of this 
 donjon keep." 
 
 She took my hand coolly enough and stepped down 
 into the passage. Then I broke upon her stormily. 
 
 "You don't seem to understand the gravity of what
 
 312 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 you are doing! Don't you know that you are risking 
 your life in crawling through this house at midnight? 
 that even to serve Arthur Pickering, a life is a pretty 
 big thing to throw away? Your infatuation for that 
 blackguard seems to carry you far, Miss Devereux." 
 
 She swung the lantern at arm's length back and forth 
 so that its rays at every forward motion struck my face 
 like a blow. 
 
 "It isn't exactly pleasant in this cavern. Unless you 
 wish to turn me over to the lord high executioner, I will 
 bid you good night." 
 
 "But the infamy of this of coming in here to spy 
 upon me to help my enemy the man who is seeking 
 plunder doesn't seem to trouble you." 
 
 "No, not a particle!" she replied quietly, and then, 
 with an impudent fling, "Oh, no !" She held up the lan 
 tern to look at the wick. "I'm really disappointed to 
 find that you were a little ahead of me, Squire Glenarm. 
 I didn't give you credit for so much perseverance. 
 But if you have the notes 
 
 "The notes ! He told you there were notes, did he ? 
 The coward sent you here to find them, after his other 
 tools failed him ?" 
 
 She laughed that low laugh of hers that was like the 
 bubble of a spring.
 
 -,. . 
 
 -Cm. 
 
 "I beg your pardon!" she said, and laughed. Page J II
 
 A PEOWLEE OF THE NIGHT 313 
 
 "Of course no one would dare deny what the great 
 Squire Glenarm says/' she said witheringly. 
 
 "You can't know what your perfidy means to me/' I 
 said. "That night, at the Armstrongs', I thrilled at 
 the sight of you. As you came down the stairway I 
 thought of you as my good angel, and I belonged to you, 
 all my life, the better future that I wished to make 
 for your sake." 
 
 "Please don't!" And I felt that my words had 
 touched her; that there were regret and repentance in 
 her tone and in the gesture with which she turned from 
 me. 
 
 She hurried down the passage swinging the lantern 
 at her side, and I followed, so mystified, so angered by 
 her composure, that I scarcely knew what I did. She 
 even turned, with pretty courtesy, to hold the light for 
 me at the crypt steps, a service that I accepted per 
 force and with joyless acquiescence in the irony of it. 
 I knew that I did not believe in her; her conduct as to 
 Pickering was utterly indefensible, I could not forget 
 that; but the light of her eyes, her tranquil brow, the 
 sensitive lips, whose mockery stung and pleased in a 
 breath, by such testimony my doubts were alternately 
 reinforced and disarmed. Swept by these changing 
 moods I followed her out into the crypt.
 
 314 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "You seem to know a good deal about this place, and 
 I suppose I can't object to your familiarizing yourself 
 with your own property. And the notes I'll give my 
 self the pleasure of handing them to you to-morrow. 
 You can cancel them and give them to Mr. Pickering, 
 a pretty pledge between you !" 
 
 I thrust my hands into my pockets to give an impres 
 sion of ease I did not feel. 
 
 "Yes" she remarked in a practical tone, "three hun 
 dred and twenty thousand dollars is no mean sum of 
 money. Mr. Pickering will undoubtedly be delighted 
 to have his debts canceled " 
 
 "In exchange for a life of devotion," I sneered. "So 
 you knew the sum the exact amount of these notes. 
 He hasn't served you well ; he should have told you that 
 we found them to-day." 
 
 ef You are not nice, are you, Squire Glenann, when you 
 are cross ?" 
 
 She was like Olivia now. I felt the utter futility of 
 attempting to reason with a woman who could become 
 a child at will. She walked up the steps and out into 
 the church vestibule. Then before the outer door she 
 spoke with decision. 
 
 "We part here, if you please ! And I have not the 
 slightest intention of trying to explain my errand into 
 that passage. You have jumped to your own conclu-
 
 A PROWLER OF THE NIGHT 315 
 
 sion, which will have to serve you. I advise you not 
 to think very much about it, to the exclusion of more 
 important business, Squire Glenarm !" 
 
 She lifted the lantern to turn out its light, and it 
 made a glory of her face, but she paused and held it 
 toward me. 
 
 "Pardon me ! You will need this to light you home." 
 "But you must not cross the park alone !" 
 "Good night ! Please be sure to close the door to the 
 passage when you go down. You are a dreadfully heed 
 less person, Squire Glenarm." 
 
 She flung open the outer chapel-door, and ran along 
 the path toward St. Agatha's. I watched her in the 
 starlight until a bend in the path hid her swift-moving 
 figure. 
 
 Down through the passage I hastened, her lantern 
 lighting my way. At the Door of Bewilderment I closed 
 the opening, setting up the line of wall as we had left 
 it in the afternoon, and then I went back to the library, 
 freshened the fire and brooded before it until Bates came 
 to relieve me at dawn.
 
 CHAPTEE XXV 
 
 BESIEGED 
 
 It was nine o'clock. A thermometer on the terrace 
 showed the mercury clinging stubbornly to a point above 
 zero; but the still air was keen and stimulating, and 
 the sun argued for good cheer in a cloudless sky. We 
 had swallowed some breakfast, though I believe no one 
 had manifested an appetite, and we were cheering our 
 selves with the idlest talk possible. Stoddard, who had 
 been to the chapel for his usual seven o'clock service, was 
 deep in the pocket Greek testament he always carried. 
 
 Bates ran in to report a summons at the outer wall, 
 and Larry and I went together to answer it, sending 
 Bates to keep watch toward the lake. 
 
 Our friend the sheriff, with a deputy, was outside 
 in a buggy. He stood up and talked to us over the wall. 
 
 "You gents understand that I'm only doing my duty. 
 It's an unpleasant business, but the court orders me to 
 eject all trespassers on the premises, and I've got to 
 do it." 
 
 "The law is being used by an infamous scoundrel to 
 316
 
 BESIEGED 317 
 
 protect himself. I don't intend to give in. We can 
 hold out here for three months, if necessary, and I ad 
 vise you to keep away and not be made a tool for a man 
 like Pickering." 
 
 The sheriff listened respectfully, resting his arms on 
 top of the wall. 
 
 "You ought to understand, Mr. Glenarm, that I ain't 
 the court; I'm the sheriff, and it's not for me to pass 
 on these questions. I've got my orders and I've got to 
 enforce 'em, and I hope you will not make it necessary 
 for me to use violence. The judge said to me, 'We de 
 plore violence in such cases.' Those were his Honor's 
 very words." 
 
 "Tou may give his Honor my compliments and tell 
 him that we are sorry not to see things his way, but 
 there are points involved in this business that he doesn't 
 know anything about, and we, unfortunately, have no 
 time to lay them before him." 
 
 The sheriff's seeming satisfaction with his position 
 on the wall and his disposition to parley had begun to 
 arouse my suspicions, and Larry several times ex 
 claimed impatiently at the absurdity of discussing my 
 affairs with a person whom he insisted on calling a con 
 stable, to the sheriff's evident annoyance. The officer 
 now turned upon him.
 
 318 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 "You, sir, we've got our eye on you, and you'd bet 
 ter come along peaceable. Laurance Donovan the de 
 scription fits you to a ( i\" 
 
 "You could buy a nice farm with that reward, 
 couldn't you " began Larry, but at that moment Bates 
 ran toward us calling loudly. 
 
 "They're coming across the lake, sir," he reported, 
 and instantly the sheriff's head disappeared, and as we 
 ran toward the house we heard his horse pounding down 
 the road toward St. Agatha's. 
 
 "The law be damned. They don't intend to come in 
 here by the front door as a matter of law," said Larry. 
 "Pickering's merely using the sheriff to give respecta 
 bility to his manceuvers for those notes and the rest 
 of it." 
 
 It was no time for a discussion of motives. We ran 
 across the meadow past the water tower and through the 
 wood down to the boat-house. Far out on the lake we 
 saw half a dozen men approaching the Glenarm grounds. 
 They advanced steadily over the light snow that lay upon 
 the ice, one man slightly in advance and evidently the 
 leader. 
 
 "It's Morgan!" exclaimed Bates. "And there's Fer 
 guson." 
 
 Larry chuckled and slapped his thigh. 
 
 "Observe that stocky little devil just behind the lead-
 
 BESIEGED 319 
 
 er? He's my friend from Scotland Yard. Lads! this 
 is really an international affair." 
 
 "Bates, go back to the house and call at any sign of 
 attack/' I ordered. "The sheriff's loose somewhere." 
 
 "And Pickering is directing his forces from afar," 
 remarked Stoddard. 
 
 "I count ten men in Morgan's line," said Larry, "and 
 the sheriff and his deputy make two more. That's 
 twelve, not counting Pickering, that we know of on the 
 other side." 
 
 "Warn them away before they get much nearer," sug 
 gested Stoddard. "We don't want to hurt people if 
 we can help it," and at this I went to the end of the 
 pier. Morgan and his men were now quite near, and 
 there was no mistaking their intentions. Most of them 
 carried guns, the others revolvers and long ice-hooks. 
 
 "Morgan," I called, holding up my hands for a truce, 
 "we wish you no harm, but if you enter these grounds 
 you do so at your peril." 
 
 "We're all sworn deputy sheriffs," called the care 
 taker smoothly. "We've got the law behind us." 
 
 "That must be why you're coming in the back way," 
 I replied. 
 
 The thick-set man whom Larry had identified as the 
 English detective now came closer and addressed me in 
 a high key.
 
 320 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 "You're harboring a bad man, Mr. Glenarm. You'd 
 better give him up. The American law supports me, 
 and you'll get yourself in trouble if you protect that 
 man. You may not understand, sir, that he's a very 
 dangerous character." 
 
 "Thanks, Davidson!" called Larry. "You'd better 
 keep out of this. You know I'm a bad man with the 
 shillalah !" 
 
 "That you are, you blackguard!" yelled the officer, 
 so spitefully that we all laughed. 
 
 I drew back to the boat-house. 
 
 "They are not going to kill anybody if they can help 
 it," remarked Stoddard, "any more than we are. Even 
 deputy sheriffs are not turned loose to do murder, and 
 the Wabana County Court wouldn't, if it hadn't been 
 imposed on by Pickering, lend itself to a game like 
 this." 
 
 "Xow we're in for it," yelled Larry, and the twelve 
 men, in close order, came running across the ice toward 
 the shore. 
 
 "Open order, and fall back slowly toward the house," 
 I commanded. And we deployed from the boat-house, 
 while the attacking party still clung together, a stra 
 tegic error, as Larry assured us. 
 
 "Stay together, lads. Don't separate; you'll get lost 
 If you do," he yelled.
 
 BESIEGED 321 
 
 Stoddard bade him keep still, and we soon had our 
 hands full with a preliminary skirmish. Morgan's line 
 advanced warily. Davidson, the detective, seemed dis 
 gusted at Morgan's tactics, openly abused the care 
 taker, and ran ahead of his column, revolver in hand, 
 bearing down upon Larry, who held our center. 
 
 The Englishman's haste was his undoing. The light 
 fall of snow a few days before had gathered in the little 
 hollows of the wood deceptively. The detective plunged 
 into one of these and fell sprawling on all fours, a 
 calamity that caused his comrades to pause uneasily. 
 Larry was upon his enemy in a flash, wrenched his pistol 
 away and pulled the man to his feet. 
 
 "Ah, Davidson ! There's many a slip ! Move, if you 
 dare and I'll plug you with your own gun." And he 
 stood behind the man, using him as a shield while Mor 
 gan and the rest of the army hung near the boat-house 
 uncertainly. 
 
 "It's the strategic intellect we've captured, General/' 
 observed Larry to me. "You see the American invaders 
 were depending on British brains." 
 
 Morgan now acted on the hint we had furnished him 
 and sent his men out as skirmishers. The loss of the 
 detective had undoubtedly staggered the caretaker, and 
 we were slowly retreating toward the house, Larry with 
 one hand on the collar of his prisoner and the other
 
 323 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 grasping the revolver with which he poked the man 
 frequently in the ribs. We slowly continued our re 
 treat* fearing a rush, which would have disposed of us 
 easily enough if Morgan's company had shown more of 
 a fighting spirit. Stoddard's presence rather amazed 
 them, I think, and I saw that the invaders kept away 
 from his end of the line. We were far apart, stumbling 
 over the snow-covered earth and calling to one another 
 now and then that we might not become too widely sep 
 arated. Davidson did not relish his capture by the man 
 he had followed across the ocean, and he attempted once 
 to roar a command to Morgan. 
 
 "Try it again," I heard Larry admonish him, "try 
 that once more, and The Sod, God bless it! will never 
 feel the delicate imprint of your web-feet again." 
 
 He turned the man about and rushed him toward the 
 house, the revolver still serving as a prod. His speed 
 gave heart to the wary invaders immediately behind him 
 and two fellows urged and led by Morgan charged our 
 line at a smart pace. 
 
 "Bolt for the front door," I called to Larry, and Stod- 
 dard and I closed in after him to guard his retreat. 
 
 "They're not shooting/* called Stoddard. "You may 
 be sure they've had their orders to capture the house 
 with as little row as possible." 
 
 We were now nearing the edge of the wood, with the
 
 BESIEGED 323 
 
 open meadow and water-tower at our backs, while Larry 
 was making good time toward the house. 
 
 <r Let's meet them here," shouted Stoddard. 
 
 Morgan was coming up with a club in his hand, mak 
 ing directly for me, two men at his heels, and the rest 
 veering off toward the wall of St. Agatha's. 
 
 "Watch the house," I yelled to the chaplain; and 
 then, on the edge of the wood Morgan came at me furi 
 ously, swinging his club over his head, and in a moment 
 we were fencing away at a merry rate. We both had 
 revolvers strapped to our waists, but I had no intention 
 of drawing mine unless in extremity. At my right 
 Stoddard was busy keeping off Morgan's personal 
 guard, who seemed reluctant to close with the clergy 
 man. 
 
 I have been, in my day, something of a fencer, and 
 my knowledge of the foils stood me in good stead now. 
 With a tremendous thwack I knocked Morgan's club 
 flying over the snow, and, as we grappled, Bates yelled 
 from the house. I quickly found that Morgan's wound 
 ed arm was still tender. He flinched at the first grap 
 ple, and his anger got the better of his judgment. We 
 kicked up the snow at a great rate as we feinted and 
 dragged each other about. He caught hold of my belt 
 with one hand and with a great wrench nearly dragged 
 me from my feet, but I pinioned his arms and bent
 
 324 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 him backward, then, by a trick Larry had taught me, 
 flung him upon his side. It is not, I confess, a pretty 
 business, matching your brute strength against that of 
 a fellow man, and as I cast myself upon him and felt 
 his hard-blown breath on my face, I hated myself more 
 than I hated him for engaging in so ignoble a contest. 
 
 Bates continued to call from the house. 
 
 "Come on at any cost," shouted Stoddard, putting 
 himself between me and the men who were flying to 
 Morgan's aid. 
 
 I sprang away from my adversary, snatching his re 
 volver, and ran toward the house, Stoddard close behind, 
 but keeping himself well between me and the men who 
 were now after us in full cry. 
 
 "Shoot, you fools, shoot !" howled Morgan, and as we 
 reached the open meadow and ran for the house a shot 
 gun roared back of us and buckshot snapped and rat 
 tled on the stone of the water tower. 
 
 "There's the sheriff," called Stoddard behind me. 
 
 The officer of the law and his deputy ran into the 
 park from the gate of St. Agatha's, while the rest of 
 Morgan's party were skirting the wall to join them. 
 
 "Stop or I'll shoot," yelled Morgan, and I felt Stod 
 dard pause in his gigantic stride to throw himself be 
 tween me and the pursuers. 
 
 "Sprint for it hot," he called very coolly, as though
 
 BESIEGED 325 
 
 he were coaching me in a contest of the most amiable 
 sort imaginable. 
 
 "Get away from those guns," I panted, angered by 
 the very generosity of his defense. 
 
 "Feint for the front entrance and then run for the 
 terrace and the library-door," he commanded, as we 
 crossed the little ravine bridge. "They've got us headed 
 off." 
 
 Twice the guns boomed behind us, and twice I saw 
 shot cut into the snow about me. 
 
 "I'm all right," called Stoddard reassuringly, still 
 at my back. "They're not a bit anxious to kill me." 
 
 I was at the top of my speed now, but the clergyman 
 kept close at my heels. I was blowing hard, but he 
 made equal time with perfect ease. 
 
 The sheriff was bawling orders to his forces, who 
 awaited us before the front door. Bates and Larry were 
 not visible, but I had every confidence that the Irish 
 man would reappear in the fight at the earliest moment 
 possible. Bates, too, was to be reckoned with, and the 
 final struggle, if it came in the house itself, might not 
 be so unequal, providing we knew the full strength 
 of the enemy. 
 
 "Now for the sheriff here we go !" cried Stoddard 
 beside me and we were close to the fringe of trees that 
 shielded the entrance. Then off we veered suddenly to
 
 326 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 the left, close upon the terrace, where one of the French 
 windows was thrown open and Larry and Bates stepped 
 out. urging us on with lusty cries. 
 
 They caught us by the arms and dragged us over 
 where the balustrade was lowest, and we crowded 
 through the door and slammed it. As Bates snapped 
 the bolts ^Morgan's party discharged its combined ar 
 tillery and the sheriff began a great clatter at the front 
 door. 
 
 "Gentlemen, we're in a state of siege/' observed 
 Larry, filling his pipe. 
 
 Shot pattered on the "walls and several panes of glass 
 cracked in the French windows. 
 
 ''All's tight below, sir." reported Bates. "I thought 
 it best to leave the tunnel trap open for our own use. 
 Those fellows won't come in that way, it's too much 
 like a blind alley.*' 
 
 "Where's your prisoner, Larry?" 
 
 "Potato cellar, quite comfortable, thanks !*' 
 
 It was ten o'clock and the besiegers suddenly with 
 drew a short distance for parley among themselves. Out 
 side the sun shone brightly ; and the sky was never bluer. 
 In this moment of respite, while we made ready for 
 what further the day might bring forth, I climbed up 
 to the finished tower to make sure we knew the enem7's 
 full strength. I could see over the tree-tops, beyond the
 
 BESIEGED 327 
 
 chapel tower, the roofs of St. Agatha's. There, at least, 
 was peace. And in that moment, looking over the hlack 
 wood, with the snow lying upon the ice of the lake white 
 and gleaming under the sun, I felt unutterably lonely 
 and heart-sick, and tired of strife. It seemed a thou 
 sand years ago that I had walked and talked with the 
 child Olivia; and ten thousand years more since the 
 girl in gray at the Annandale station had wakened in 
 me a higher aim, and quickened a better impulse than I 
 had ever known. 
 
 Larry roared my name through the lower floors. I 
 went down with no wish in my heart but to even matters 
 with Pickering and be done with my grandfather's 
 legacy for ever. 
 
 "The sheriff and Morgan have gone back toward the 
 lake," reported Larry. 
 
 "They've gone to consult their chief," I said. "I 
 wish Pickering would lead his own battalions. It would 
 give social prestige to the fight." 
 
 "Bah, these women!" And Larry tore the corner 
 from a cartridge box. 
 
 Stoddard, with a pile of clubs within reach, lay on 
 his back on the long leather couch, placidly reading his 
 Greek testament. Bates, for the first time since my ar 
 rival, seemed really nervous and anxious. He pulled a 
 silver watch from his pocket several times, something I
 
 328 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 had never seen him do before. He leaned against the 
 table, looking strangely tired and worn, and I saw him 
 start nervously as he felt Larry's eyes on him. 
 
 "I think, sir, I'd better take another look at the outer 
 gates," he remarked to me quite respectfully. 
 
 His disturbed air aroused my old antagonism. Was 
 he playing double in the matter? Did he seek now an 
 excuse for conveying some message to the enemy ? 
 
 "You'll stay where you are," I said sharply, and I 
 found myself restlessly fingering my revolver. 
 
 "Very good, sir," and the hurt look in his eyes 
 touched me. 
 
 "Bates is all right," Larry declared, with an em 
 phasis that was meant to rebuke me.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 
 
 "They're coining faster this time," remarked Stod- 
 dard. 
 
 "Certainly. Their general has been cursing them 
 right heartily for retreating without the loot. He wants 
 his three-hundred-thousand-dollar autograph collec 
 tion," observed Larry. 
 
 "Why doesn't he come for it himself, like a man?" I 
 demanded. 
 
 "Like a man, do you say !" ejaculated Larry. "Faith 
 and you flatter that fat-head !" 
 
 It was nearly eleven o'clock when the attacking party 
 returned after a parley on the ice beyond the boat-house. 
 The four of us were on the terrace ready for them. 
 They came smartly through the wood, the sheriff and 
 Morgan slightly in advance of the others. I expected 
 them to slacken their pace when they came to the open 
 meadow, but they broke into a quick trot at the water- 
 tower and came toward the house as steady as veteran 
 campaigners. 
 
 "Shall we try gunpowder ?" asked Larry. 
 
 "We'll let them fire the first volley," I said. 
 329
 
 330 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "They've already tried to murder you and Stoddard, 
 I'm in for letting loose with the elephant guns/' pro 
 tested the Irishman. 
 
 "Stand to your clubs/' admonished Stoddard, whose 
 own weapon was comparable to the Scriptural weaver's 
 beam. "Possession is nine points of the fight, and we've 
 got the house." 
 
 "Also a prisoner of war," said Larry, grinning. 
 
 The English detective had smashed the glass in the 
 barred window of the potato cellar and we could hear 
 him howling and cursing below. 
 
 "Looks like business this time!" exclaimed Larry. 
 "Spread out now and the first head that sticks over tho 
 balustrade gets a dose of hickory." 
 
 When twenty-five yards from the terrace the advanc 
 ing party divided, half halting between us and the 
 water-tower and the remainder swinging around the 
 house toward the front entrance. 
 
 "Ah, look at that !" yelled Larry. "'It's a battering- 
 ram they have. man of peace ! have I your Majesty's 
 consent to try the elephant guns now ?" 
 
 Morgan and the sheriff carried between them a stick 
 of timber from which the branches had been cut, and, 
 with a third man to help, they ran it up the steps and 
 against the door with a crash that came booming back 
 through the house.
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBEAEY 331 
 
 Bates was already bounding up the front stairway, a 
 revolver in his hand and a look of supreme rage on his 
 face. Leaving Stoddard and Larry to watch the library 
 windows, I was after him, and we clattered over the loose 
 boards in the upper hall and into a great unfinished 
 chamber immediately over the entrance. Bates had the 
 window up when I reached him and was well out upon 
 the coping, yelling a warning to the men below. 
 
 He had his revolver up to shoot, and when I caught 
 his arm he turned to me with a look of anger and indig 
 nation I had never expected to see on his colorless, mask- 
 like face.- 
 
 "My God, sir ! That door was his pride, sir, it came 
 from a famous house in England, and they're wrecking 
 it, sir, as though it were common pine." 
 
 He tore himself free of my grasp as the besiegers 
 again launched their battering-ram against the door 
 with a frightful crash, and his revolver cracked smartly 
 thrice, as he bent far out with one hand clinging to 
 the window frame. 
 
 His shots were a signal for a sharp reply from one of 
 the men below, and I felt Bates start, and pulled him 
 in, the blood streaming from his face. 
 
 "It's all right, sir, all right, only a cut across my 
 cheek, sir," and another bullet smashed through the 
 glass, spurting plaster dust from the wall. A fierce
 
 333 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 onslaught below caused a tremendous crash to echo 
 through the house, and I heard firing on the opposite 
 side, where the enemy's reserve was waiting. 
 
 Bates, with a handkerchief to his face, protested that 
 he was unhurt. 
 
 "Come below; there's nothing to be gained here," 
 and I ran down to the hall, where Stoddard stood, lean 
 ing upon his club like a Hercules and coolly watching 
 the door as it leaped and shook under the repeated blows 
 of the besiegers. 
 
 A gun roared again at the side of the house, and I ran 
 to the library, where Larry had pushed furniture against 
 all the long windows save one, which he held open. He 
 stepped out upon the terrace and emptied a revolver at 
 the men who were now creeping along the edge of the 
 ravine beneath us. One of them stopped and discharged 
 a rifle at us with deliberate aim. The ball snapped snow 
 from the balustrade and screamed away harmlessly. 
 
 "Bah, such monkeys!" he muttered. "I believe I've 
 hit that chap!" One man had fallen and lay howling 
 in the ravine, his hand to his thigh, while his comrades 
 paused, demoralized. 
 
 "Serves you right, you blackguard !" Larry muttered. 
 
 I pulled him in and we jammed a cabinet against the 
 door. 
 
 Meanwhile the blows at the front continued with in-
 
 creasing violence. Stoddard still stood where I had left 
 him. Bates was not in sight, but the barking of a re 
 volver above showed that he had returned to the window 
 to take vengeance on his enemies. 
 
 Stoddard shook his head in deprecation. 
 
 "They fired first, we can't do less than get back at 
 them/' I said, between the blows of the battering-ram. 
 
 A panel of the great oak door now splintered in, but 
 in their fear that we might use the opening as a 
 loophole, they scampered out into range of Bates' re 
 volver. In return we heard a rain of small shot on the 
 upper windows, and a few seconds later Larry shouted 
 that the flanking party was again at the terrace. 
 
 This movement evidently heartened the sheriff, for, 
 under a fire from Bates, his men rushed up and the log 
 crashed again into the door, shaking it free of the upper 
 hinges. The lower fastenings were wrenched loose an 
 instant later, and the men came tumbling into the hall, 
 the sheriff, Morgan and four others I had never seen 
 before. Simultaneously the flanking party reached the 
 terrace and were smashing the small panes of the French 
 windows. We could hear the glass crack and tinkle 
 above the confusion at the door. 
 
 In the hall he was certainly a lucky man who held to 
 his weapon a moment after the door tumbled in. I 
 blazed at the sheriff with my revolver as he stumbled
 
 334 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 and half-fell at the threshold, so that the ball passed 
 over him, but he gripped me by the legs and had me 
 prone and half-dazed by the rap of my head on the floor. 
 
 I suppose I was two or three minutes, at least, getting 
 my wits. I was first conscious of Bates grappling the 
 sheriff., who sat upon me, and as they struggled with each 
 other I got the full benefit of their combined, swerving, 
 tossing weight. Morgan and Larry were trying for a 
 chance at each other with revolvers, while Morgan 
 backed the Irishman slowly toward the library. Stod- 
 dard had seized one of the unknown deputies with both 
 hands by the collar and gave his captive a tremendous 
 swing, jerking him high in the air and driving him 
 against another invader with a blow that knocked both 
 fellows spinning into a corner. 
 
 "Come on to the library !" shouted Larry, and Bates, 
 who had got me to my feet, dragged me down the hall 
 toward the open library-door. 
 
 Bates presented at this moment an extraordinary ap 
 pearance, with the blood from the scratch on his face 
 coursing down his cheek and upon his shoulder. His 
 coat and shirt had been torn away and the blood was 
 smeared over his breast. The fury and indignation in 
 his face was something I hope not to see again in a hu 
 man countenance. 
 
 "My God, this room this beautiful room!" I heard
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 335 
 
 him cry, as he pushed me before him into the library. 
 "It was Mr. Glenarm's pride," he muttered, and sprang 
 upon a burly fellow who had come in through one of 
 the library doors and was climbing over the long table 
 we had set up as a barricade. 
 
 We were now between two fires. The sheriff's party 
 had fought valiantly to keep us out of the library, and 
 now that we were within, Stoddard's big shoulders held 
 the door half-closed against the combined strength of 
 the men in the hall. This pause was fortunate, for it 
 gave us an opportunity to deal singly with the fellows 
 who were climbing in from the terrace. Bates had laid 
 one of them low with a club and Larry disposed of an 
 other, who had made a murderous effort to stick a knife 
 into him. I was with Stoddard against the door, where 
 the sheriff's men were slowly gaming upon us. 
 
 "Let go on the jump when I say three," said 
 Stoddard, and at his word we sprang away from the 
 door and into the room. Larry yelled with joy as the 
 sheriff and his men pitched forward and sprawled upon 
 the floor, and we were at it again in a hand-to-hand con 
 flict to clear the room. 
 
 "Hold that position, sir/* yelled Bates. 
 
 Morgan had directed the attack against me and I was 
 driven upon the hearth before the great fireplace. The 
 sheriff, Morgan and Ferguson hemmed me in. It was
 
 336 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 evident that I was the chief culprit, and they wished to 
 eliminate me from the contest. Across the room, Larry, 
 Stoddard and Bates were engaged in a lively rough and 
 tumble with the rest of the besiegers, and Stoddard, see 
 ing my plight, leaped the overturned table, broke past 
 the trio and stood at my side, swinging a chair. 
 
 At that moment my eyes, sweeping the outer doors, 
 saw the face of Pickering. He had come to see that his 
 orders were obeyed, and I remember yet my satisfac 
 tion, as, hemmed in by the men he had hired to kill me 
 or drive me out, I felt, rather than saw, the cowardly 
 horror depicted upon his face. 
 
 Then the trio pressed in upon me. As I threw down 
 my club and drew my revolver, some one across the 
 room fired several shots, whose roar through the room 
 seemed to arrest the fight for an instant, and then, while 
 Stoddard stood at my side swinging his chair defensive 
 ly, the great chandelier, loosened or broken by the shots, 
 fell with a mighty crash of its crystal pendants. The 
 sheriff, leaping away from Stoddard's club, was struck 
 on the head and borne down by the heavy glass. 
 
 Smoke from the firing floated in clouds across the 
 room, and there was a moment's silence save for the 
 sheriff, who was groaning and cursing under the debris 
 of the chandelier. At the door Pickering's face ap-
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 337 
 
 peared again anxious and frightened. I think the scene 
 in the room and the slow progress his men were making 
 against us had half-paralyzed him. 
 
 We were all getting our second wind for a renewal 
 of the fight, with Morgan in command of the enemy. 
 One or two of his men, who had gone down early in the 
 struggle, were now crawling back for revenge. I think 
 I must have raised my hand and pointed at Pickering, 
 for Bates wheeled like a flash and before I realized what 
 happened he had dragged the executor into the room. 
 
 "You. scoundrel you ingrate !" howled the servant. 
 
 The blood on his face and bare chest and the hatred 
 in his eyes made him a hideous object ; but in that lull 
 of the storm while we waited, watching for an advan 
 tage, I heard off somewhere, above or below, that same 
 sound of footsteps that I had remarked before. Larry 
 and Stoddard heard it ; Bates heard it, and his eyes fixed 
 upon Pickering with a glare of malicious delight. 
 
 "There comes our old friend, the ghost," yelled Larry. 
 
 "I think you are quite right, sir," said Bates. He 
 threw down the revolver he held in his hand and leaned 
 upon the edge of the long table that lay on its side, his 
 gaze still bent on Pickering, who stood with his overcoat 
 buttoned close, his derby hat on the floor beside him, 
 where it had fallen as Bates hauled him into the room.
 
 338 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 The sound of a measured step, of some one walking, 
 of a careful foot on a stairway, was quite distinct. I even 
 remarked the slight stumble that I had noticed before. 
 
 We were all so intent on those steps in the wall that 
 we were off guard. I heard Bates yell at me, and Larry 
 and Stoddard rushed for Pickering. He had drawn a 
 revolver from his overcoat pocket and thrown it up to 
 fire at me when Stoddard sent the weapon flying through 
 the air. 
 
 "Only a moment now, gentlemen," said Bates, an odd 
 smile on his face. He was looking past me toward the 
 right end of the fireplace. There seemed to be in the 
 air a feeling of something impending. Even Morgan 
 and his men, half-crouching ready for a rush at me, hesi 
 tated ; and Pickering glanced nervously from one to the 
 other of us. It was the calm before the storm ; in a mo 
 ment we should be at each other's throats for the final 
 struggle, and yet we waited. In the wall I heard still 
 the sound of steps. They were clear to all of us now. 
 "We stood there for what seemed an eternity I suppose 
 the time was really not more than thirty seconds inert, 
 waiting, while I felt that something must happen; the 
 silence, the waiting, were intolerable. I grasped my pis 
 tol and bent low for a spring at Morgan, with the over 
 turned table and wreckage of the chandelier between me
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBEAEY 339 
 
 and Pickering ; and every man in the room was instantly 
 on the alert. 
 
 All but Bates. He remained rigid that curious 
 smile on his blood-smeared face, his eyes bent toward the 
 end of the great fireplace back of me. 
 
 That look on his face held, arrested, numbed me; I 
 followed it. I forgot Morgan; a tacit truce held us all 
 again. I stepped back till my eyes fastened on the 
 broad paneled chimney-breast at the right of the hearth, 
 and it was there now that the sound of footsteps in the 
 wall was heard again; then it ceased utterly, the long 
 panel opened slowly, creaking slightly upon its hinges, 
 then down into the room stepped Marian Devereux. 
 She wore the dark gown in which I had seen her last, 
 and a cloak was drawn over her shoulders. 
 
 She laughed as her eyes swept the room. 
 
 "Ah, gentlemen," she said, shaking her head, as she 
 viewed our disorder, "what wretched housekeepers you 
 are!" 
 
 Steps were again heard in the wall, and she turned to 
 the panel, held it open with one hand and put out the 
 other, waiting for some one who followed her. 
 
 Then down into the room stepped my grandfather, 
 John Marshall Glenarm! His staff, his cloak, the silk 
 hat above his shrewd face, and his sharp black eyes were
 
 340 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 unmistakable. He drew a silk handkerchief from the 
 skirts of his frock coat, with a characteristic flourish 
 that I remembered well, and brushed a bit of dust from 
 his cloak before looking at any of us. Then his eyes 
 fell upon me. 
 
 "Good morning, Jack," he said; and his gaze swept 
 the room. 
 
 "God help us !" 
 
 It was Morgan, I think, who screamed these words as 
 he bolted for the broken door, but Stoddard caught and 
 held him. 
 
 "Thank God, you're here, sir !" boomed forth in Bates' 
 sepulchral voice. 
 
 It seemed to me that I saw all that happened with a 
 weird, unnatural distinctness, as one sees, before a 
 storm, vivid outlines of far headlands that the usual 
 light of day scarce discloses. 
 
 I was myself dazed and spellbound ; but I do not like 
 to think, even now, of the effect of my grandfather's 
 appearance on Arthur Pickering; of the shock that 
 seemed verily to break him in two, so that he staggered, 
 then collapsed, his head falling as though to strike his 
 knees. Larry caught him by the collar and dragged him 
 to a seat, where he huddled, his twitching hands at his 
 throat.
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 341 
 
 "Gentlemen/' said my grandfather, "you seem to have 
 been enjoying yourselves. Who is this person ?" 
 
 He pointed with his stick to the sheriff, who was en 
 deavoring to crawl out from under the mass of broken 
 crystals. 
 
 "That, sir, is the sheriff," answered Bates. 
 
 "A very disorderly man, I must say. Jack, what 
 have you been doing to cause the sheriff so much incon 
 venience? Didn't you know that that chandelier was 
 likely to kill him ? That thing cost a thousand dollars, 
 gentlemen. You are expensive visitors. Ah, Morgan, 
 and Ferguson, too ! Well, well ! I thought better of both 
 of you. Good morning, Stoddard! A little work for 
 the Church militant ! And this gentleman ?" he indi 
 cated Larry, who was, for once in his life, without any 
 thing to say. 
 
 "Mr. Donovan, a friend of the house," explained 
 Bates. 
 
 "Pleased, I'm sure," said the old gentleman. "Glad 
 the house had a friend. It seems to have had enemies 
 enough," he added dolefully; and he eyed the wreck of 
 the room ruefully. The good humor in his face reas 
 sured me ; but still I stood in tongue-tied wonder, star 
 ing at him. 
 
 "And Pickering!" John Marshall Glenarm's voice
 
 342 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 broke with a quiet mirth that I remembered as the pref 
 ace usually of something unpleasant. "Well, Arthur, 
 I'm glad to find you on guard, defending the interests 
 of my estate. At the risk of your life, too ! Bates !" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "You ought to have called me earlier. I really prized 
 that chandelier immensely. And this furniture wasn't 
 so bad !" 
 
 His tone changed abruptly. He pointed to the 
 sheriff's deputies one after the other with his stick. 
 There was, I remembered, always something insinuat 
 ing, disagreeable and final about my grandfather's staff. 
 
 "Clear out !" he commanded. "Bates, see these fel 
 lows through the wall. Mr. Sheriff, if I were you I'd 
 be very careful, indeed, what I said of this affair. I'm 
 a dead man come to life again, and I know a great deal 
 that I didn't know before I died. Nothing, gentlemen, 
 fits a man for life like a temporary absence from this 
 cheerful and pleasant world. I recommend you to try 
 it." 
 
 He walked about the room with the quick eager step 
 that was peculiarly his own, while Stoddard, Larry and 
 I stared at him. Bates was helping the dazed sheriff 
 to his feet. Morgan and the rest of the foe were crawl 
 ing and staggering away, muttering, as though implor 
 ing the air of heaven against an evil spirit.
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBEAEY 343 
 
 Pickering sat silent, not sure whether he saw a ghost 
 or real flesh and blood, and Larry kept close to him, cut 
 ting off his retreat. I think we all experienced that be 
 wildered feeling of children who are caught in mischief 
 by a sudden parental visitation. My grandfather went 
 about peering at the books, with a tranquil air that was 
 disquieting. 
 
 He paused suddenly before the design for the me 
 morial tablet, which I had made early in my stay at 
 Glenarm House. I had sketched the lettering with some 
 care, and pinned it against a shelf for my more leisurely 
 study of its phrases. The old gentlemen pulled out his 
 glasses and stood with his hands behind his back, read 
 ing. When he finished he walked to where I stood. 
 
 "Jack!" he said, "Jack, my boy!" His voice shook 
 and his hands trembled as he laid them on my shoulders. 
 "Marian," he turned, seeking her, but the girl had 
 vanished. "Just as well," he said. "This room is hardly 
 an edifying sight for a woman." I heard, for an in 
 stant, a light hurried step in the wall. 
 
 Pickering, too, heard that faint, fugitive sound, and 
 our eyes met at the instant it ceased. The thought of 
 her tore my heart, and I felt that Pickering saw and 
 knew and was glad. 
 
 "They have all gone, sir," reported Bates, returning 
 to the room.
 
 344 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," began my grandfather, seating 
 himself, "I owe you an apology ; this little secret of mine 
 was shared by only two persons. One of these was Bates," 
 he paused as an exclamation broke from all of us ; and 
 he went on, enjoying our amazement, "and the other 
 was Marian Devereux. I had often observed that at a 
 man's death his property gets into the wrong hands, or 
 becomes a bone of contention among lawyers. Some 
 times," and the old gentleman laughed, "an executor 
 proves incompetent or dishonest. I was thoroughly 
 fooled in you, Pickering. The money you owe me is a 
 large sum; and you were so delighted to hear of my 
 death that you didn't even make sure I was really out of 
 the way. You were perfectly willing to accept Bates' 
 word for it; and I must say that Bates carried it off 
 splendidly." 
 
 Pickering rose, the blood surging again in his face, 
 and screamed at Bates, pointing a shaking finger at the 
 man. 
 
 "You impostor, you perjurer ! The law will deal 
 with your case." 
 
 "To be sure," resumed my grandfather calmly; 
 "Bates did make false affidavits about my death; but 
 possibly " 
 
 "It was in a Pickwickian sense, sir," said Bates 
 gravely.
 
 "And in a righteous cause," declared my grandfather. 
 "I assure you, Pickering, that I have every intention of 
 taking care of Bates. His weekly letters giving an ac 
 count of the curious manifestations of your devotion to 
 Jack's security and peace were alone worth a goodly 
 sum. But, Bates " 
 
 The old gentleman was enjoying himself hugely. He 
 chuckled now, and placed his hand on my shoulder. 
 
 "Bates, it was too bad I got those missives of yours 
 all in a bunch. I was in a dahabiyeh on the Nile and 
 they don't have rural free delivery in Egypt. Your 
 cablegram called me home before I got the letters. But 
 thank God, Jack, you're alive !" 
 
 There was real feeling in these last words, and I 
 think we were all touched by them. 
 
 "Amen to that !" cried Bates. 
 
 "And now, Pickering, before you go I want to show 
 you something. It's about this mysterious treasure, that 
 has given you and I hear, the whole countryside so 
 much concern. I'm disappointed in you, Jack, that you 
 couldn't find the hiding-place. I designed that as a part 
 of your architectural education. Bates, give me a 
 chair." 
 
 The man gravely drew a chair out of the wreckage 
 and placed it upon the hearth. My grandfather stepped 
 upon it, seized one of the bronze sconces above the man-
 
 346 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 tel and gave it a sharp turn. At the same moment, 
 Bates, upon another chair, grasped the companion 
 bronze and wrenched it sharply. Instantly some mech 
 anism creaked in the great oak chimney-breast and the 
 long oak panels swung open, disclosing a steel door with 
 a combination knob. 
 
 "Gentlemen," and my grandfather turned with a 
 quaint touch of humor, and a merry twinkle in his 
 bright old eyes "gentlemen, behold the treasury! It 
 has proved a better hiding-place than I ever imagined 
 it would. There's not much here, Jack, but enough to 
 keep you going for a while." 
 
 We were all staring, and the old gentleman was un- 
 feignedly enjoying our mystification. It was an hour 
 on which he had evidently counted much; it was the 
 triumph of his resurrection and home-coming, and he 
 chuckled as he twirled the knob in the steel door. Then 
 Bates stepped forward and helped him pull the door 
 open, disclosing a narrow steel chest, upright and held 
 in place by heavy bolts clamped in the stone of the chim 
 ney. It was filled with packets of papers placed on 
 shelves, and tied neatly with tape. 
 
 "Jack," said my grandfather, shaking his head, "you 
 wouldn't be an architect, and you're not much of an 
 engineer either, or you'd have seen that that paneling
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY 347 
 
 was heavier than was necessary. There's two hundred 
 thousand dollars in first-rate securities I vouch for 
 them ! Bates and I put them there just before I went 
 to Vermont to die." 
 
 "I've sounded those panels a dozen times," I pro 
 tested. 
 
 "Of course you have," said my grandfather, "but 
 solid steel behind wood is safe. I tested it carefully be 
 fore I left." 
 
 He laughed and clapped his knees, and I laughed with 
 him. 
 
 "But you found the Door of Bewilderment and Pick 
 ering's notes, and that's something." 
 
 "No; I didn't even find that. Donovan deserves the 
 credit. But how did you ever come to build that tunnel, 
 if you don't mind telling me ?" 
 
 He laughed gleefully. 
 
 "That was originally a trench for natural-gas pipes. 
 There was once a large pumping-station on the site of 
 this house, with a big trunk main running off across 
 country to supply the towns west of here. The gas was 
 exhausted, and the pipes were taken up before I began 
 to build. I should never have thought of that tunnel in 
 the world if the trench hadn't suggested it. I merely 
 deepened and widened it a little and plastered it with
 
 348 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 cheap cement as far as the chapel, and that little room 
 there where I put Pickering's notes had once been the 
 cellar of a house built for the superintendent of the gas 
 plant. I had never any idea that I should use that pas 
 sage as a means of getting into my own house, but Mar 
 ian met me at the station, told me that there was trou 
 ble here, and came with me through the chapel into the 
 cellar, and through the hidden stairway that winds 
 around the chimney from that room where we keep the 
 candlesticks." 
 
 "But who was the ghost?" I demanded, "if you were 
 really alive and in Egypt ?" 
 
 Bates laughed now. 
 
 "Oh, I was the ghost! I went through there occa 
 sionally to stimulate your curiosity about the house. 
 And you nearly caught me once !" 
 
 "One thing more, if we're not wearing you out I'd 
 like to know whether Sister Theresa owes you any 
 money." 
 
 My grandfather turned upon Pickering with blazing 
 eyes. 
 
 "You scoundrel, you infernal scoundrel, Sister 
 Theresa never borrowed a cent of me in her life ! And 
 you have made war on that woman " 
 
 His rage choked him.
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE LIBKAKY 349 
 
 He told Bates to close the door of the steel chest, and 
 then turned to me. 
 
 "Where are those notes of Pickering's?" he demand 
 ed ; and I brought the packet. 
 
 "Gentlemen, Mr. Pickering has gone to ugly lengths 
 in this affair. How many murders have you gentlemen 
 committed ?" 
 
 "We were about to begin actual killing when you ar 
 rived," replied Larry, grinning. 
 
 "The sheriff got all his men off the premises more or 
 less alive, sir," said Bates. 
 
 "That is good. It was all a great mistake, a very 
 great mistake," and my grandfather turned to Picker 
 ing. 
 
 "Pickering, what a contemptible scoundrel you are! 
 I lent you that three hundred thousand dollars to buy 
 securities to give you better standing in your railroad 
 enterprises, and the last time I saw you, you got me to 
 release the collateral so you could raise money to buy 
 more shares. Then, after I died" he chuckled "you 
 thought you'd find and destroy the notes and that would 
 end the transaction ; and if you had been smart enough 
 to find them you might have had them and welcome. 
 But as it is, they go to Jack. If he shows any mercy 
 on you in collecting them he's not the boy I think he is."
 
 350 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 Pickering rose, seized his hat and turned toward the 
 shattered library-door. He paused for one moment, his 
 face livid with rage. 
 
 "You old fool !" he screamed at my grandfather. 
 "You old lunatic, I wish to God I had never seen you ! 
 No wonder you came back to life ! You're a tricky old 
 devil and too mean to die !" 
 
 He turned toward me with some similar complaint 
 ready at his tongue's end ; but Stoddard caught him by 
 the shoulders and thrust him out upon the terrace. 
 
 A moment later we saw him cross the meadow and 
 hurry toward St. Agatha's.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 
 
 John Marshall Glenarm had probably never been so 
 happy in his life as on that day of his amazing home 
 coming. He laughed at us and he laughed with us, and 
 as he went about the house explaining his plans for its 
 completion, he chaffed us all with his shrewd humor 
 that had been the terror of my boyhood. 
 
 "Ah, if you had had the plans of course you would 
 have been saved a lot of trouble; but that little sketch 
 of the Door of Bewilderment was the only thing I left, 
 and you found it, Jack, you really opened these good 
 books of mine." 
 
 He sent us all away to remove the marks of battle, and 
 we gave Bates a hand in cleaning up the wreckage, 
 Bates, the keeper of secrets; Bates, the inscrutable and 
 mysterious ; Bates, the real hero of the affair at Glenarm. 
 
 He led us through the narrow stairway by which he 
 had entered, which had been built between false walls, 
 and we played ghost for one another, to show just how 
 the tread of a human being around the chimney sound 
 ed. There was much to explain, and my grandfather's 
 
 351
 
 352 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 contrition for having placed me in so hazardous a pre 
 dicament was so sincere, and his wish to make amends 
 so evident, that my heart warmed to him. He made me 
 describe in detail all the incidents of my stay at the 
 house, listening with boyish delight to my adventures. 
 
 "Bless my soul !" he exclaimed over and over again. 
 And as I brought my two friends into the story his de 
 light knew no bounds, and he kept chuckling to himself ; 
 and insisted half a dozen times on shaking hands with 
 Larry and Stoddard, who were, he declared, his friends 
 as well as mine. 
 
 The prisoner in the potato cellar received our due at 
 tention; and my grandfather's joy in the fact that an 
 agent of the British government was held captive in 
 Glenarm House was cheering to see. But the man's de 
 tention was a grave matter, as we all realized, and made 
 imperative the immediate consideration of Larry's fu 
 ture. 
 
 "I must go and go at once !" declared Larry. 
 
 "Mr. Donovan, I should feel honored to have you re 
 main," said my grandfather. "I hope to hold Jack 
 here, and I wish you would share the house with us." 
 
 "The sheriff and those fellows won't squeal very hard 
 about their performances here," said Stoddard. "And 
 they won't try to rescue the prisoner, even for a reward, 
 from a house where the dead come back to life."
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 353 
 
 "No; but you can't hold a British prisoner in an 
 American private house for ever. Too many people 
 know he has been in this part of the country ; and you 
 may be sure that the fight here and the return of Mr. 
 Glenarm will not fail of large advertisement. All I can 
 ask of you, Mr. Glenarm, is that you hold the fellow a 
 few hours after I leave, to give me a start." 
 
 "Certainly. But when this trouble of yours blows 
 over, I hope you will come back and help Jack to live 
 a decent and orderly life/' 
 
 My grandfather spoke of my remaining with a 
 warmth that was grateful to my heart ; but the place and 
 its associations had grown unbearable. I had not men 
 tioned Marian Devereux to him, I had not told him of 
 my Christmas flight to Cincinnati; for the fact that I 
 had run away and forfeited my right made no difference 
 now, and I waited for an opportunity when we should 
 be alone to talk of my own affairs. 
 
 At luncheon, delayed until mid-afternoon, Bates pro 
 duced champagne, and the three of us, worn with excite 
 ment and stress of battle, drank a toast, standing, to the 
 health of John Marshall Glenarm. 
 
 "My friends," the old gentleman rose and we all 
 stood, our eyes bent upon him in, I think, real affection, 
 "I am an old and foolish man. Ever since I was 
 able to do so I have indulged my whims. This house
 
 is one of them. I had wished to make it a thing of 
 beauty and dignity, and I had hoped that Jack would 
 care for it and be willing to complete it and settle here. 
 The means I employed to test him were not, I admit, 
 worthy of a man who intends well toward his own flesh 
 and blood. Those African adventures of yours scared 
 me, Jack; but to think" and he laughed "that I 
 placed you here in this peaceful place amid greater dan 
 gers probably than you ever met in tiger-hunting ! But 
 you have put me to shame. Here's health and peace to 
 you !" 
 
 "So say we all!" cried the others. 
 
 "One thing more," my grandfather continued,"! don't 
 want you to think, Jack, that you would really have 
 been cut c'l under any circumstances if I had died while 
 I wac hiding in Egypt. What I wanted, boy, was to 
 get you home ! I made another will in England, where 
 I deposited the bulk of my property before I died, and 
 did not forget you. That will was to protect you in case 
 I really died !" and he laughed cheerily. 
 
 The others left us Stoddard to help Larry get his 
 things together and my grandfather and I talked for 
 an hour at the table. 
 
 "I have thought that many things might happen 
 here," I said, watching his fine, slim fingers, as he pol 
 ished his eye-glasses, then rested his elbows on the table
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 355 
 
 and smiled at me. "I thought for a while that I should 
 certainly be shot; then at times I was afraid I might 
 not be; but your return in the flesh was something I 
 never considered among the possibilities. Bates fooled 
 me. That talk I overheard between him and Pickering 
 in the church porch that foggy night was the thing that 
 seemed to settle his case ; then the next thing I knew he 
 was defending the house at the serious risk of his life; 
 and I was more puzzled than ever." 
 
 "Yes, a wonderful man, Bates. He always disliked 
 Pickering, and he rejoiced in tricking him." 
 
 "Where did you pick Bates up? He told me he was 
 a Yankee, but he doesn't act or talk it." 
 
 My grandfather laughed. "Of course not! He's an 
 Irishman and a man of education but that's all I know 
 about him, except that he is a marvelously efficient ser 
 vant." 
 
 My mind was not on Bates. I was thinking now of 
 Marian Devereux. I could not go on further with my 
 grandfather without telling him how I had run away 
 and broken faith with him, but he gave me no chance. 
 
 "You will stay on here, you will help me to finish 
 the house?" he asked with an unmistakable eagerness 
 of look and tone. 
 
 It seemed harsh and ungenerous to tell him that I 
 wished to go ; that the great world lay beyond the con-
 
 356 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 fines of Glenarm for me to conquer; that I had lost as 
 well as gained by those few months at Glenarm House, 
 and wished to go away. It was not the mystery, now 
 fathomed, nor the struggle, now ended, that was up 
 permost in my mind and heart, but memories of a girl 
 who had mocked me with delicious girlish laughter, 
 who had led me away that I might see her transformed 
 into another, more charming, being. It was a comfort 
 to know that Pickering, trapped and defeated, was not 
 to benefit by the bold trick she had helped him play upon 
 me. His loss was hers as well, and I was glad in my 
 bitterness that I had found her in the passage, seeking 
 for plunder at the behest of the same master whom Mor 
 gan, Ferguson and the rest of them served. 
 
 The fight was over and there was nothing more for me 
 to do in the house by the lake. After a week or so I 
 should go forth and try to win a place for myself. I 
 had my profession; I was an engineer, and I did not 
 question that I should be able to find employment. As 
 for my grandfather, Bates would care for him, and I 
 should visit him often. I was resolved not to give him 
 any further cause for anxiety on account of my adven 
 turous and roving ways. He knew well enough that his 
 old hope of making an architect of me was lost beyond 
 redemption I had told him that and now I wished to 
 depart in peace and go to some new part of the world,
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 357 
 
 where there were lines to run, tracks to lay and bridges 
 to build. 
 
 These thoughts so filled my mind that I forgot he 
 was patiently waiting for my answer. 
 
 "I should like to do anything you ask; I should like 
 to stay here always, but I can't. Don't misunderstand 
 me. I have no intention of going back to my old ways. 
 I squandered enough money in my wanderings, and I 
 had my joy of that kind of thing. I shall find employ 
 ment somewhere and go to work." 
 
 "But, Jack," he bent toward me kindly, "Jack, you 
 mustn't be led away by any mere quixotism into laying 
 the foundation of your own fortune. What I have is 
 yours, boy. What is in the box in the chimney is yours 
 now to-day." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't! You were always too kind, 
 and I deserve nothing, absolutely nothing." 
 
 "I'm not trying to pay you, Jack. I want to ease my 
 own conscience, that's alL" 
 
 "But money can do nothing for mine," I replied, try 
 ing to smile. "I've been dependent all my days, and 
 now I'm going to work. If you were infirm and needed 
 me, I should not hesitate, but the world will have its 
 eyes on me now." 
 
 "Jack, that will of mine did you a great wrong; it 
 put a mark upon you, and that's what hurts me, that's
 
 358 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CAXDLES 
 
 what I want to make amends for ! Don't you see ? 
 don't punish me, boy. Come ! Let us be friends I" 
 
 He rose and put out his hands. 
 
 "I didn't mean that! I don't care about that! It 
 was nothing more than I deserved. These months here 
 have changed me. Haven't you heard me say I was go 
 ing to work ?" 
 
 And I tried to laugh away further discussion of my 
 future. 
 
 "It will be more cheerful here in the spring," he said, 
 as though seeking an inducement for me to remain. 
 "When the resort colony down here comes to life the 
 lake is really gay." 
 
 I shook my head. The lake, that pretty cupful of 
 water, the dip and glide of a certain canoe, the remem 
 brance of a red tam-o'-shanter merging afar off in an 
 October sunset my purpose to leave the place strength 
 ened as I thought of these things. My nerves were 
 keyed to a breaking pitch and I turned upon him storm- 
 
 fly- 
 
 "So Miss Devereux was the other person who shared 
 your confidence ! Do you understand, do you appreci 
 ate the fact that she was Pickering's ally ?" 
 
 "I certainly do not," he replied coldly. "I'm sur 
 prised to hear you speak so of a woman whom you can 
 scarcely know "
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 359 
 
 "Yes, I know her ; my God, I have reason to know her I 
 But even when I found her out I did not dream that 
 the plot was as deep as it is. She knew that it was a 
 scheme to test me, and she played me into Pickering's 
 hands. I saw her only a few nights ago down there in 
 the tunnel acting as his spy, looking for the lost notes 
 that she might gain grace in his eyes by turning them 
 over to him. You know I always hated Pickering, he 
 was too smooth, too smug, and you and everybody else 
 were for ever praising him to me. He was always held 
 up to me as a model; and the first time I saw Marian 
 Devereux she was with him it was at Sherry's the night 
 before I came here. I suppose she reached St. Agatha's 
 only a few hours ahead of me." 
 
 "Yes. Sister Theresa was her guardian. Her father 
 was a dear friend, and I knew her from her early child 
 hood. You are mistaken, Jack. Her knowing Picker 
 ing means nothing, they both lived in New York and 
 moved in the same circle." 
 
 "But it doesn't explain her efforts to help him, does 
 it?" I blazed. "He wished to marry her, Sister 
 Theresa told me that, and I failed, I failed miserably 
 to keep my obligation here I ran away to follow her !" 
 
 "Ah, to be sure! You were away Christmas Eve, 
 when those vandals broke in. Bates merely mentioned 
 it in the last report I got as I came through New York.
 
 360 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 That was all right. I assumed, of course, that you had 
 gone off somewhere to get a little Christmas cheer; I 
 don't care anything about it." 
 
 "But I had followed her I went to Cincinnati to see 
 her. She dared me to come it was a trick, a part of 
 the conspiracy to steal your property." 
 
 The old gentleman smiled. It was a familiar way of 
 his, to grow calm as other people waxed angry. 
 
 "She dared you to come, did she ! That is quite like 
 Marian ; but you didn't have to go, did you, Jack ?" 
 
 "Of course not ; of course I didn't have to go, but " 
 
 I stammered, faltered and ceased. Memory threw 
 open her portals with a challenge. I saw her on the 
 stairway at the Armstrongs'; I heard her low, soft 
 laughter, I felt the mockery of her voice and eyes ! I 
 knew again the exquisite delight of being near her. My 
 heart told me well enough why I had followed her. 
 
 "Jack, I'm glad I'm not buried up there in that Ver 
 mont graveyard with nobody to exercise the right of 
 guardianship over you. I've had my misgivings about 
 you ; I used to think you were a born tramp ; and you dis 
 appointed me in turning your back on architecture, the 
 noblest of all professions ; but this performance of yours 
 really beats them all. Don't you know that a girl like 
 Marian Devereux isn't likely to become the agent of any 
 rascal? Do you really believe for a minute that she
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES 361 
 
 tempted you to follow her, so you might forfeit your 
 rights to my property?" 
 
 "But why was she trying to find those notes of his? 
 Why did she come back from Cincinnati with his party ? 
 If you could answer me those things, maybe I'd admit 
 that I'm a fool. Pickering, I imagine, is a pretty plausi 
 ble fellow where women are concerned." 
 
 "For God's sake, Jack, don't speak of that girl as 
 women ! I put her in that will of mine to pique your 
 curiosity, knowing that if there was a penalty on your 
 marrying her you would be wholly likely to do it, for 
 that's the way human beings are made. But you've 
 mixed it all up now, and insulted her in the grossest 
 way possible for a fellow who is really a gentleman. And 
 I don't want to lose you; I want you here with me, 
 Jack! This is a beautiful country, this Indiana! 
 And what I want to do is to found an estate, to 
 build a house that shall be really beautiful, some 
 thing these people hereabouts can be proud of, 
 and I want you to have it with me, Jack, to 
 link our name to these woods and that pretty lake. I'd 
 rather have that for my neighbor than any lake in Scot 
 land. These rich Americans, who go to England to live, 
 don't appreciate the beauty of their own country. This 
 landscape is worthy of the best that man can do. And 
 I didn't undertake to build a crazy house so much as
 
 362 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 one that should have some dignity and character. That 
 passage around the chimney is an indulgence, Jack, 
 I'll admit it's a little bizarre, you see that chimney 
 isn't so big outside as it is in!" and he laughed and 
 rubbed his knees with the palms of his hands, "and my 
 bringing foreign laborers here wasn't really to make it 
 easier to get things done my way. Wait till you have 
 seen the May-apples blossom and heard the robins sing 
 in the summer twilight, help me to finish the house, 
 then if you want to leave I'll bid you God-speed." 
 
 The feeling in his tone, the display of sentiment so 
 at variance with my old notion of him, touched me in 
 spite of myself. There was a characteristic nobility and 
 dignity in his plan; it was worthy of him. And I had 
 never loved him as now, when he finished this appeal, 
 and turned away to the window, gazing out upon the 
 somber woodland. 
 
 "Mr. Donovan is ready to go, sir," announced Bates 
 at the door, and we went into the library, where Larry 
 and Stoddard were waiting.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 SHORTER VISTAS 
 
 Larry had assembled his effects in the library, and to 
 my surprise, Stoddard appeared with his own hand-bag. 
 
 "I'm going to see Donovan well on his way," said the 
 clergyman. 
 
 "It's a pity our party must break up," exclaimed my 
 grandfather. "My obligations to Mr. Donovan are very 
 great and to you, too, Stoddard. Jack's friends are 
 mine hereafter, and when we get new doors for Glen- 
 arm House you shall honor me by accepting duplicate 
 keys." 
 
 "Where's Bates ?" asked Larry, and the man came in, 
 respectfully, inperturbably as always, and began gather 
 ing up the bags. 
 
 "Stop one moment! Mr. Glenarm," said Larry. 
 "Before I go I want to congratulate you on the splendid 
 courage of this man who has served you and your house 
 with so much faithfulness and tact. And I want to tell 
 you something else, that you probably would never learn 
 from him " 
 
 363
 
 364 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Donovan!" There was a sharp cry in Bates' voice, 
 and he sprang forward with his hands outstretched en- 
 treatingly. But Larry did not heed him. 
 
 "The moment I set eyes on this man I recognized 
 him. It's not fair to you or to him that you should not 
 know him for what he is. Let me introduce an old 
 friend, Walter Creighton; he was a student at Dublin 
 when I was there, I remember him as one of the best 
 fellows in the world.'' 
 
 "For God's sake no !" pleaded Bates. He was deeply 
 moved and turned his face away from us. 
 
 "But, like me," Larry went on, "he mixed in politics. 
 One night in a riot at Dublin a constable was killed. 
 No one knew who was guilty, but a youngster was sus 
 pected, the son of one of the richest and best-known 
 men in Ireland, who happened to get mixed in the row. 
 To draw attention from the boy, Creighton let suspicion 
 attach to his own name, and, to help the boy's case 
 further, ran away. I had not heard from or of him until 
 the night I came here and found him the defender of 
 this house. By God ! that was no servant's trick, it was 
 the act of a royal gentleman." 
 
 They clasped hands ; and with a new light in his face, 
 with a new manner, as though he resumed, as a familiar 
 garment, an old disused personality, Bates stood trans 
 figured in the twilight, a man and a gentleman. I think
 
 SHOKTElt VISTAS 365 
 
 we were all drawn to him; I know that a sob clutched 
 my throat and tears filled my eyes as I grasped his hand. 
 
 "But what in the devil did you do it for?" blurted 
 my grandfather, excitedly twirling his glasses. 
 
 Bates (I still call him Bates, he insists on it) 
 laughed. For the first time he thrust his hands into his 
 pockets and stood at his ease, one of us. 
 
 "Larry, you remember I showed a fondness for the 
 stage in our university days. When I got to America I 
 had little money and found it necessary to find employ 
 ment without delay. I saw Mr. Glenarm's advertise 
 ment for a valet. Just as a lark I answered it to see 
 what an American gentleman seeking a valet looked 
 like. I fell in love with Mr. Glenarm at sight " 
 
 "It was mutual !" declared my grandfather. "I never 
 believed your story at all, you were too perfect in the 
 part !" 
 
 "Well, I didn't greatly mind the valet business; it 
 helped to hide my identity; and I did like the humor 
 and whims of Mr. Glenarm. The housekeeping, after 
 we came out here, wasn't so pleasant" he looked at his 
 hands ruefully "but this joke of Mr. Glenarm's mak 
 ing a will and then going to Egypt to see what would 
 happen, that was too good to miss. And when the 
 heir arrived I found new opportunities of practising 
 amateur theatricals; and Pickering's efforts to enlist
 
 366 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 me in his scheme for finding the money and making me 
 rich gave me still greater opportunities. There were 
 times when I was strongly tempted to blurt the whole 
 thing; I got tired of being suspected, and of playing 
 ghost in the wall ; and if Mr. Glenarm hadn't got here 
 just as he did I should have stopped the fight and 
 proclaimed the truth. I hope," he said, turning to 
 me, "you have no hard feelings, sir." And he threw 
 into the "sir" just a touch of irony that made us all 
 roar. 
 
 "I'm certainly glad I'm not dead," declared my grand 
 father, staring at Bates. "Life is more fun than I ever 
 thought possible. Bless my soul !" he said, "if it isn't a 
 shame that Bates can never cook another omelette for 
 me!" 
 
 We sent Bates back with my grandfather from the 
 boat-house, and Stoddard, Larry and I started across the 
 ice; the light coating of snow made walking compara 
 tively easy. We strode on silently, Stoddard leading. 
 Their plan was to take an accommodation train at the 
 first station beyond Annandale, leave it at a town forty 
 miles away, and then hurry east to an obscure place in 
 the mountains of Virginia, where a religious order 
 maintained a house. There Stoddard promised Larry 
 asylum and no questions asked. 
 
 We left the lake and struck inland over a rough coun-
 
 SHOETEK VISTAS 367 
 
 try road to the station, where Stoddard purchased tickets 
 only a few minutes before the train whistled. 
 
 We stood on the lonely platform, hands joined to 
 hands, and I know not what thoughts in our minds and 
 hearts. 
 
 "We've met and we've said good-by in many odd cor 
 ners of this strange old world," said Larry, "and God 
 knows when we shall meet again." 
 
 "But you must stay in America there must be no 
 sea between us !" I declared. 
 
 "Donovan's sins don't seem heinous to me ! It's sim 
 ply that they've got to find a scapegoat," and Stod- 
 dard's voice was all sympathy and kindness. "It will 
 blow over in time, and Donovan will become an enlight 
 ened and peaceable American citizen." 
 
 There was a constraint upon us all at this moment of 
 parting so many things had happened that day and 
 when men have shared danger together they are bound 
 by ties that death only can break. Larry's effort at 
 cheer struck a little hollowly upon us. 
 
 "Beware, lad, of women !" he importuned me. 
 
 "Humph! You still despise the sex on account of 
 that affair with the colleen of the short upper lip." 
 
 "Verily. And the eyes of that little lady, who guid 
 ed your grandfather back from the other world^ remind 
 ed me strongly of her ! Bah, these women !"
 
 368 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Precious little you know about them !" I retorted. 
 
 "The devil I don't !" 
 
 "No," said Stoddard, "invoke the angels, not the 
 devil I" 
 
 "Hear him ! Hear him ! A priest with no knowledge 
 of the world." 
 
 "Alas, my cloth ! And you fling it at me after I have 
 gone through battle, murder and sudden death with you 
 gentlemen !" 
 
 "We thank you, sir, for that last word," said Larry 
 mockingly. "I am reminded of the late Lord Alfred : 
 
 " : I waited for the train at Coventry; 
 
 I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, 
 To watch the three tall spires, ' " 
 
 he quoted, looking off through the twilight toward St. 
 Agatha's. "I can't see a blooming spire !" 
 
 The train was now roaring down upon us and we 
 clung to this light mood for our last words. Between 
 men, gratitude is a thing best understood in silence; 
 and these good friends, I knew, felt what I could not 
 say. 
 
 "Before the year is out we shall all meet again," cried 
 Stoddard hopefully, seizing the bags. 
 
 "Ah, if we could only be sure of that !" I replied. And 
 in a moment they were both waving their hands to me
 
 SHORTER VISTAS 369 
 
 from the rear platform, and I strode back homeward 
 over the lake. 
 
 A mood of depression was upon me ; I had lost much 
 that day, and what I had gained my restoration to the 
 regard of the kindly old man of my own blood, who had 
 appealed for my companionship in terms hard to den} r 
 seemed trifling as I tramped over the ice. Perhaps 
 Pickering, after all, was the real gainer by the day's 
 event. My grandfather had said nothing to allay my 
 doubts as to Marian Devereux's strange conduct, and 
 yet his confidence in her was apparently unshaken. 
 
 I tramped on, and leaving the lake, half-unconscious- 
 iy struck into the wood beyond the dividing wall, where 
 snow-covered leaves and twigs rattled and broke under 
 my tread. I came out into an open space beyond St. 
 Agatha's, found the walk and turned toward home. 
 
 As I neared the main entrance to the school the door 
 opened and a woman came out under the overhanging 
 lamp. She carried a lantern, and turned with a hand 
 outstretched to some one who followed her with careful 
 steps. 
 
 "Ah, Marian," cried my grandfather, "it's ever the 
 task of youth to light the way of age."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 AND SO THE LIGHT LED ME 
 
 He had been to see Sister Theresa, and Marian was 
 walking with him to the gate. I saw her quite plainly 
 in the light that fell from the lamp overhead. A long 
 cloak covered her, and a fur toque capped her graceful 
 head. My grandfather and his guide were apparently 
 in high spirits. Their laughter smote harshly upon me. 
 It seemed to shut me out, to lift a barrier against me. 
 The world lay there within the radius of that swaying 
 light, and I hung aloof, hearing her voice and jealous of 
 the very companionship and sympathy between them. 
 
 But the light led me. I remembered with bitterness 
 that I had always followed her, whether as Olivia, 
 trailing in her girlish race across the snow, or as the 
 girl in gray, whom I had followed, wondering, on that 
 night journey at Christmas Eve; and I followed now. 
 The distrust, my shattered faith, my utter loneliness, 
 could not weigh against the joy of hearing that laugh 
 of hers breaking mellowly on the night. 
 
 I paused to allow the two figures to widen the dis 
 tance between us as they traversed the path that curved 
 
 570
 
 away toward the chapel. I could still hear their voices, 
 and see the lantern flash and disappear. I felt an im 
 pulse to turn back, or plunge into the woodland ; but I 
 was carried on uncontrollably. The light glimmered, 
 and her voice still floated back to me. It stole through 
 the keen winter dark like a memory of spring; and so 
 her voice and the light led me. 
 
 Then I heard an exclamation of dismay followed by 
 laughter in which my grandfather joined merrily. 
 
 "Oh, never mind ; we're not afraid," she exclaimed. 
 
 I had rounded the curve in the path where I should 
 have seen the light; but the darkness was unbroken. 
 There was silence for a moment, in which I drew quite 
 near to them. 
 
 Then my grandfather's voice broke out cheerily. 
 
 "Now I must go back with you! A fine person you 
 are to guide an old man ! A foolish virgin, indeed, with 
 no oil in her lamp !" 
 
 "Please do not ! Of course I'm going to see you quite 
 to your own door! I don't intend to put my hand to 
 the lantern and then turn back !" 
 
 "This walk isn't what it should be," said my grand 
 father, "we'll have to provide something better in the 
 spring." 
 
 They were still silent and I heard him futilely strik 
 ing a match. Then the lantern fell, its wires rattling
 
 3?2 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 as it struck the ground, and the two exclaimed with re 
 newed merriment upon their misfortune. 
 
 "If you will allow me !" I called out, my hand fum 
 bling in my pocket for my own match-box. 
 
 I have sometimes thought that there is really some 
 sort of decent courtesy in me. An old man caught in 
 a rough path that was none too good at best! And a 
 girl, even though my enemy ! These were, I fancy, the 
 thoughts that crossed my mind. 
 
 "Ah, it's Jack !" exclaimed my grandfather. "Marian 
 was showing me the way to the gate and our light went 
 out." 
 
 "Miss Devereux," I murmured. I have, I hope, an 
 icy tone for persons who have incurred my displeasure, 
 and I employed it then and there, with, no doubt, its 
 fullest value. 
 
 She and my grandfather were groping in the dark for 
 the lost lantern, and I, putting out my hand, touched 
 her fingers. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she murmured frostily. 
 
 Then I found and grasped the lantern. 
 
 "One moment," I said, "and I'll see what's the trou 
 ble." 
 
 I thought my grandfather took it, but the flame of 
 my wax match showed her fingers, clasping the wires of 
 the lantern. The cloak slipped away, showing her arm's
 
 AND SO THE LIGHT LED ME 373 
 
 soft curve, the blue and white of her bodice, the purple 
 blur of violets ; and for a second I saw her face, with a 
 smile quivering about her lips. My grandfather was 
 beating impatiently with his stick, urging us to leave the 
 lantern and go on. 
 
 "Let it alone," he said. "I'll go down through the 
 chapel ; there's a lantern in there somewhere." 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry," she remarked; "but I recently 
 lost my best lantern !" 
 
 To be sure she had ! I was angry that she should so 
 brazenly recall the night I found her looking for Pick 
 ering's notes in the passage at the Door of Bewilder 
 ment! 
 
 She had lifted the lantern now, and I was striving to 
 touch the wax taper to the wick, with imminent danger 
 to my bare fingers. 
 
 "They don't really light well when the oil's out," she 
 observed, with an exasperating air of wisdom. 
 
 I took it from her hand and shook it close to my ear. 
 
 "Yes ; of course, it's empty," I muttered disdainfully. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Glenarm !" she cried, turning away toward 
 my grandfather. 
 
 I heard his stick beating the rough path several yards 
 away. He was hastening toward Glenarm House. 
 
 "I think Mr. Glenarm has gone home." 
 
 "Oh, that is too bad !" she exclaimed.
 
 374 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "Thank you! He's probably at the chapel by this 
 time. If you will permit me " 
 
 "Not at all !" 
 
 A man well advanced in the sixties should not tax his 
 arteries too severely. I was quite sure that my grand 
 father ran up the chapel steps; I could hear his stick 
 beating hurriedly on the stone. 
 
 "If you wish to go farther" I began. 
 
 I was indignant at my grandfather's conduct ; he had 
 deliberately run off, leaving me alone with a young 
 woman whom I particularly wished to avoid. 
 
 "Thank you ; I shall go back now. I was merely walk 
 ing to the gate with Mr. Glenarm. It is so fine to have 
 him back again, so unbelievable !" 
 
 It was just such a polite murmur as one might em 
 ploy in speaking to an old foe at a friend's table. 
 
 She listened a moment for his step; then, apparently 
 satisfied, turned back toward St. Agatha's. I followed, 
 uncertain, hesitating, marking her definite onward 
 flight. From the folds of the cloak stole the faint per 
 fume of violets. The sight of her, the sound of her 
 voice, combined to create and to destroy! a mood 
 with every step. 
 
 I was seeking some colorless thing to say when she 
 spoke over her shoulder:
 
 AND SO THE LIGHT LED ME 375 
 
 "You are very kind, but I am not in the least afraid, 
 Mr. Glenarm." 
 
 "But there is something I wish to say to you. I 
 should like" 
 
 She slackened her step. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am going away/* 
 
 "Yes ; of course ; you are going away." 
 
 Her tone implied that this was something that had 
 been ordained from the beginning of time, and did not 
 matter. 
 
 "And I wish to say a word about Mr. Pickering." 
 
 She paused and faced me abruptly. We were at the 
 edge of the wood, and the school lay quite near. She 
 caught the cloak closer about her and gave her head a 
 little toss I remembered well, as a trick compelled by the 
 vagaries of woman's head-dress. 
 
 "I can't talk to you here, Mr. Glenarm ; I had no in 
 tention of ever seeing you again ; but I must say this " 
 
 "Those notes of Pickering's I shall ask Mr. Glen 
 arm to give them to you as a mark of esteem from me." 
 
 She stepped backward as though I had struck her. 
 
 "You risked much for them for him" I went on. 
 
 "Mr. Glenarm, I have no intention of discussing that, 
 or any other matter with you "
 
 376 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "It is better so" 
 
 "But your accusations, the things you imply, are un 
 just, infamous!" 
 
 The quaver in her voice shook my resolution to deal 
 harshly with her. 
 
 "If I had not myself been a witness " I began. 
 
 "Yes; you have the conceit of your own wisdom, I 
 dare say." 
 
 "But that challenge to follow you, to break my pledge ; 
 my running away, only to find that Pickering was close 
 at my heels ; your visit to the tunnel in search of those 
 notes, don't you know that those things were a blow 
 that hurt ? You had been the spirit of this woodland to 
 me. Through all these months, from the hour I watched 
 you paddle off into the sunset in your canoe, the thought 
 of you made the days brighter, steadied and cheered me, 
 and wakened ambitions that I had forgotten abandoned 
 long ago. And this hideous struggle here, it seems 
 so idle, so worse than useless now ! But I'm glad I fol 
 lowed you, I'm glad that neither fortune nor duty kept 
 me back. And now I want you to know that Arthur 
 Pickering shall not suffer for anything that has hap 
 pened. I shall make no effort to punish him ; for your 
 sake he shall go free." 
 
 A sigh so deep that it was like a sob broke from her. 
 She thrust forth her hand entreatingly.
 
 "Why don't you go to him with your generosity? 
 You are so ready to helieve ill of me ! And I shall not 
 defend myself; but I will say these things to you, Mr. 
 Glenarm: I had no idea, no thought of seeing him at 
 the Armstrongs' that night. It was a surprise to me, 
 and to them, when he telegraphed he was coming. And 
 when I went into the tunnel there under the wall that 
 night, I had a purpose a purpose " 
 
 "Yes?" she paused and I bent forward, earnestly 
 waiting for her words, knowing that here lay her great 
 offending. 
 
 "I was afraid, I was afraid that Mr. Glenarm might 
 not come in time ; that you might be dispossessed, lose 
 the fight, and I came back with Mr. Pickering because 
 I thought some dreadful thing might happen here to 
 you " 
 
 She turned and ran from me with the speed of the 
 wind, the cloak fluttering out darkly about her. At the 
 door, under the light of the lamp, I was close upon her. 
 Her hand was on the vestibule latch. 
 
 "But how should I have known?" I cried. "And you 
 had taunted me with my imprisonment at Glenarm; 
 you had dared me to follow you, when you knew that 
 my grandfather was living and watching to see whether 
 I kept faith with him. If you can tell me, if there 
 is an answer to that "
 
 378 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 "I shall never tell you anything more ! You were so 
 eager to think ill of me to accuse me !" 
 
 "It was because I love you ; it was my jealousy of that 
 man, my boyhood enemy, that made me catch at any 
 doubt. You are so beautiful, you are so much a part 
 of the peace, the charm of all this! I had hoped for 
 spring for you and the spring together I" 
 
 "Oh, please !" 
 
 Her flight had shaken the toque to an unwonted an 
 gle; her breath came quick and hard as she tugged at 
 the latch eagerly. The light from overhead was full 
 upon us, but I could not go with hope and belief strug 
 gling unsatisfied in my heart. I seized her hands and 
 sought to look into her eyes. 
 
 "But you challenged me, to follow you ! I want to 
 know why you did that I" 
 
 She drew away, struggling to free herself. 
 
 "Why was it, Marian ?" 
 
 "Because I wanted " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I wanted you to come, Squire Glenarm !" 
 
 Thrice spring has wakened the sap in the Glenarm 
 wood since that night. Yesterday I tore March from 
 the calendar. April in Indiana! She is an impudent 
 tomboy who whistles at the window, points to the sun-
 
 AND SO THE LIGHT LED ME 379 
 
 shine and, when you go hopefully forth, summons the 
 clouds and pelts you with snow. The austere old wood 
 land, wise from long acquaintance, finds no joy in her. 
 The walnut and the hickory have a higher respect for 
 the stormier qualities of December. April in Indiana! 
 She was just there by the wall, where now the bluebird 
 pauses dismayed, and waits again the flash of her golden 
 sandals. She bent there at the lakeside the splash of 
 a raindrop ago and tentatively poked the thin, brittle 
 ice with the pink tips of her little fingers. April in the 
 heart ! It brings back the sweet wonder and awe of those 
 days, three years ago, when Marian and I, waiting for 
 June to come, knew a joy that thrilled our hearts like 
 the tumult of the first robin's song. The marvel of it 
 all steals over me again as I hear the riot of melody in 
 meadow and wood, and catch through the window the 
 flash of eager wings. 
 
 My history of the affair at Glenarm has overrun the 
 bounds I had set for it, and these, I submit, are not 
 days for the desk and pen. Marian is turning over the 
 sheets of manuscript that lie at my left elbow, and de 
 manding that I drop work for a walk abroad. My 
 grandfather is pacing the terrace outside, planning, no 
 doubt, those changes in the grounds that are his con 
 stant delight. 
 
 Of some of the persons concerned in this winter's
 
 380 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 tale let me say a word more. The prisoner whom Larry 
 left behind we discharged, after several days, with all 
 the honors of war, and (I may add without breach of 
 confidence) a comfortable indemnity. Larry has made 
 a reputation by his book on Eussia a searching study 
 into the conditions of the Czar's empire, and, having 
 squeezed that lemon, he is now in Tibet. His father 
 has secured from the British government a promise of 
 immunity for Larry, so long as that amiable adventurer 
 keeps away from Ireland. My friend's latest letters to 
 me contain, I note, no reference to The Sod. 
 
 Bates is in California conducting a fruit ranch, and 
 when he visited us last Christmas he bore all the marks 
 of a gentleman whom the world uses well. Stoddard's 
 life has known many changes in these years, but they 
 must wait for another day, and, perhaps, another his 
 torian. Suffice it to say that it was he who married us 
 Marian and me in the little chapel by the wall, and 
 that when he comes now and then to visit us, we renew 
 our impression of him as a man large of body and of 
 soul. Sister Theresa continues at the head of St. Aga 
 tha's, and she and the other Sisters of her brown-clad 
 company are delightful neighbors. Pickering's failure 
 and subsequent disappearance were described sufficiently 
 in the newspapers and his name is never mentioned at 
 Glenarm,
 
 AND SO THE LIGHT LED ME 381 
 
 'As for myself Marian is tapping the floor restlessly 
 with her boot and I must hasten I may say that I am 
 no idler. It was I who carried on the work of finishing 
 Glenarm House, and I manage the farms which my 
 grandfather has lately acquired in this neighborhood. 
 But better still, from my own point of view, I maintain 
 in Chicago an office as consulting engineer and I have 
 already had several important commissions. 
 
 Glenarm House is now what my grandfather had 
 wished to make it, a beautiful and dignified mansion. 
 He insisted on filling up the tunnel, so that the Door of 
 Bewilderment is no more. The passage in the wall and 
 the strong box in the paneling of the chimney-breast 
 remain, though the latter we use now as a hiding-place 
 for certain prized bottles of rare whisky which John 
 Marshall Glenarm ordains shall be taken down only on 
 Christmas Eves, to drink the health of Olivia Gladys 
 Armstrong. That young woman, I may add, is now a 
 belle in her own city, and of the scores of youngsters all 
 the way from Pittsburg to New Orleans who lay siege 
 to her heart, my word is, may the best man win ! 
 
 And now, at the end, it may seem idle vanity for a 
 man still young to write at so great length of his own 
 affairs; but it must have been clear that mine is the 
 humblest figure in this narrative. I wished to set forth 
 an honest account of my grandfather's experiment in
 
 382 THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND CANDLES 
 
 looking into this world from another, and he has him 
 self urged me to write down these various incidents 
 while they are still fresh in my memory. 
 
 Marian the most patient of women is walking to 
 ward the door, eager for the sunshine, the free airs of 
 spring, the blue vistas lakeward, and at last I am ready 
 to go.
 
 A THOROUGHBRED GIRL 
 
 ZELDA DAMERON 
 
 By MEREDITH NICHOLSON 
 Author of The Main Chance 
 
 Zelda Dameron is in all ways a splendid and 
 successful story. There is about it a sweetness, a 
 wholesomeness and a sturdiness that will commend 
 it to earnest, kindly and wholesome people. 
 
 Boston Transcript 
 
 The whole story is thoroughly American. It is 
 lively and breezy throughout a graphic description 
 of a phase of life in the Middle West. 
 
 Toledo Blade 
 
 A love story of a peculiarly sweet and attractive 
 sort, the interpretation of a girl's life, the revelation 
 of a human heart. New Orleans Picayune 
 
 With portraits of the characters in color 
 
 By John Cecil Clay 
 I2mo, cloth, price, $1.50 
 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 A STORY OF TODAY 
 
 72* MAIN CHANCE 
 
 By MEREDITH NICHOLSON 
 
 The Main Chance is a straightforward, honest 
 picture of the life of today in a wide-awake western 
 city. It leaves with the reader a pleasant impression 
 of a type of people and a phase of life well worth a 
 closer acquaintance. 
 
 The New Tork Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 Mr. Nicholson's work is marked by wholesome 
 
 humor, convincing realism, admirable diction, bright 
 
 sayings, a good sense of proportion and artistic finish. 
 
 The Chicago Inter Ocean. 
 
 The Main Chance is a romance of youth, of love 
 and of success honestly won. It is a vigorous, buoy 
 ant, cheering story, full of crisp humor, forceful 
 charm and hard common sense. It is American to 
 the very core. The Reader. 
 
 We recommend it for its workmanship, for its 
 smoothness and its sensible and pleasant fancies, and 
 for its general charm. The New Tork Sun. 
 
 With six illustrations by Harrison Fisher 
 I zmo, cloth. Price, $ 1 . 50 
 
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