THE SNARE OF 
 CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 EDITH E- BUCKLEY
 
 
 i 
 
 '^Y
 
 . F. McCrr w. p '* 
 B BO, BROADWAY. Lnft
 
 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE
 
 "' Then this was written for effect ! ' the stranger cried sharply." 
 FRONTISPIECE. See Page 4.
 
 THE SNARE 
 OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 BY 
 EDITH E. BUCKLEY 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 ARTHUR E. BECHER 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1910
 
 Copyright, 1909, 1910, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPASTY. 
 
 All right* reserved 
 
 Published, February, 1910 
 
 Third Printing 
 
 Iprtntrt* 
 8. J. 1'AEKHiLL * Co., BOSTON, U. 8. A.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. EXTRAORDINARY OFFER OF A QUEER OLD 
 
 MAN 1 
 
 II. MURRAY KILBOURNE AND THE MAN WHO 
 
 WAS HELD 10 
 
 III. AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 22 
 
 IV. WHO HORSFORD WAS 29 
 
 V. A NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE 39 
 
 VI. THE PLACE OF SILENCE 47 
 
 VII. THE UNSOCIABLE MR. ARMS 57 
 
 VIII. ALMOST A HERO 67 
 
 IX. THE GIRL IN WHITE 78 
 
 X. AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 89 
 
 XL THE SECRET OF THE HORSFORDS .... 97 
 
 XII. THE MAGICIAN OF RED GABLES .... 106 
 
 XIII. THE VOICE OF BEELZEBUB 113 
 
 XIV. HUTTON GOSSIPS 121 
 
 XV. WHO is LA COUR ? 127 
 
 XVI. AN ALLY GAINED 135 
 
 XVII. INVOLVING MILBRATH 143 
 
 XVII I. DOLLY REVEALS A SECRET 154 
 
 XIX. WARNED AGAIN 164 
 
 XX. A RESIGNATION AND A REFUSAL 173 
 
 2228981
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXI. MILBRATH'S ADMISSION 179 
 
 XXII. A REVELATION 192 
 
 XXIII. BANKER CRANE LENDS A HAND . . 203 
 
 XXIV. MR. SUMMERFIELD ELUDES . . . . 211 
 
 XXV. A DISCOVERY 221 
 
 XXVI. THE SECRET OF THE WING .... 231 
 
 XXVII. SOME STARTLING DOCUMENTS .... 240 
 
 XXVIII. A THRILLING ESCAPE 250 
 
 XXIX. SUMMERFIELD'S PAST 256 
 
 XXX. HORSFORD IN DURANCE 268 
 
 XXXI. BY THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION . . . 280 
 
 XXXII. THE AGITATION OF MR. McCLURE . . 285 
 
 XXXIII. WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 295 
 
 XXXIV. WHAT THE BLOTTER REVEALED . . . 307 
 XXXV. RUN TO EARTH 319 
 
 XXXVI. " THE WAGES OF SIN " 335 
 
 XXXVII. MILBRATH'S VINDICATION 341 
 
 XXXVIII. THE STORY TOLD . 347
 
 ILLUSTKATIONS 
 
 " ' Then this was written for effect ! ' the stranger 
 
 cried sharply " Frontispiece 
 
 "I had dismounted and held before her the 
 
 locket" Page 93 
 
 " ' And now for this last paper,' I said, opening 
 
 a folded sheet " "248 
 
 " Mr. La Cour went over the cliff in the night " " 334
 
 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 i 
 
 EXTEAOBDINAEY OFFEE OF A QUEEE OLD MAN 
 
 " TJ1 VERY man is the architect of his own f or- 
 -*-^ tunes " was so carefully impressed upon my 
 youthful mind, that manhood was reached before 
 I came to understand that a literal acceptance of 
 that saying is a mistake. It was my connection with 
 the Somhers mystery that completed my conversion 
 to a belief in cause and effect, and made me a re- 
 specter of the potency of circumstance. 
 
 I had known Mr. Peter Somhers from my child- 
 hood. It was natural, therefore, when the old 
 gentleman was mysteriously murdered, that I should 
 seek the assignment to visit the scene of the crime 
 and do the " special " for the Sphere, that great 
 New York daily on which I had won my spurs as a 
 " star " reporter. But my chief had other plans 
 for me, and before the man who was detailed to that 
 case reached the New England village where the 
 murder was done, I was well out past Sandy Hook 
 on my way to Paris on a commission to which I had 
 long looked forward. 
 
 My interest in the Somhers case was not, however, 
 weakened by my sudden good fortune, and I spent 
 
 1
 
 2 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the greater part of the first day out in reading ac- 
 counts of the crime as given by the various papers 
 that I had taken aboard, and in an endeavor to 
 put into logical form the contradictory evidence 
 presented. 
 
 From the first, the responsibility for the deed 
 pointed to Harrison Milbrath, a young nephew of 
 the victim, whose home had been with Mr. Somhers, 
 and I was not surprised, upon landing, to learn that 
 he had been arrested, charged with the crime. To 
 my mind the case against him weakened steadily 
 as details came to hand, and I was not only aston- 
 ished, but mystified, that his trial could end as it 
 did in a verdict of " guilty." The case was ap- 
 pealed, and although, as before, the sentiment of the 
 press was against the lad, he was acquitted by the 
 second jury. 
 
 I had never known Milbrath, and I felt no more 
 interest in him than I should have felt for any per- 
 son in his position, but I must say that his case 
 touched a chord of sympathy, or something akin to 
 it, in my breast. I was glad of his acquittal, for I 
 believed in his innocence. 
 
 I returned to America in time to take in the last 
 day of the second trial, and I went back to town 
 with a far deeper feeling for the young man than 
 I had any desire to possess. His haunted eyes and 
 sensitive lips touched even my sensibilities, hardened 
 as they were, through years of newspaper training. 
 
 To my report of the conclusion of the trial, there- 
 fore, I appended a brief analysis of the case, which 
 tended logically to Milbrath's advantage, and added
 
 OFFER OF A QUEER OLD MAN 3 
 
 an urgent plea for a more friendly attitude toward 
 him who, though acquitted by twelve men, was not 
 fully exonerated until public sentiment extended the 
 right hand of good-fellowship. This sympathetic 
 monograph was freely blue-penciled by my chief, 
 but enough of it remained to attract the attention 
 of at least one person and, as a consequence, to alter 
 the trend of my whole career. 
 
 One day, about six months later, as I sat at my 
 table running out some copy, the door to our chief's 
 sanctum opened and there emerged with him an 
 odd-looking, bent-shouldered elderly man. Follow- 
 ing the chief's indication he started toward ine 
 with quick, nervous strides, but as I turned he 
 stopped short, wavered an instant as if he would 
 turn back, then continued to come forward, but 
 slowly, with dragging steps. 
 
 " Mr. Bliss ? " he asked, and his eyes searched 
 mine until I could believe that he read my thoughts. 
 
 I answered affirmatively, and impressed by his 
 sudden feebleness offered him my chair ; but he de- 
 clined it with an irritated motion of his whole body. 
 
 " Your editor tells me that you wrote this," and 
 he handed me a copy of my analysis of the Somhers 
 mystery, " and I want you to undertake an inves- 
 tigation for me reopen the case, as it were, 
 privately." 
 
 " With a view to detecting the murderer of Mr. 
 Somhers ? " 
 
 " To be sure." 
 
 " I fear that such an effort on my part would be 
 wasted time. Two years is a good while, and every
 
 4 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 chance of getting at the right clue may be lost by 
 now." 
 
 " Then this was written for effect ! " the stranger 
 cried sharply, putting his forefinger on that part of 
 the article which I still held in which I devel- 
 oped by deduction the theory that the crime had 
 been committed by an elderly or infirm man, instead 
 of by one young and athletic like Harrison Milbrath. 
 
 " No," I answered. " I can stand by that ; but 
 my theory ends there, and as now I can have none 
 of the advantages that come with being upon the 
 spot immediately after a crime to help me in my 
 work, I think I should be unwise to undertake such 
 an investigation. Besides, I believe that Mr. Mil- 
 brath already has had some of the best detective skill 
 in the country at work upon the case." 
 
 " Do you know that ? " 
 
 " I had it on excellent authority." 
 
 The old man appeared to meditate, and as I 
 looked at him I could not doubt that the alternate 
 clutch and release of his fingers on the side of my 
 desk, and the swift twitching of the muscles of his 
 face indicated a fierce mental conflict of some kind 
 an effort to control anger, it seemed to me. 
 
 " Bah ! " he roared presently, his voice vibrant, 
 " And what will they do ? Take his money, en- 
 courage him with false clues, and, finally, declare 
 the puzzle insoluble, a closed book, as is every case 
 where the story has once been told. Bah 1 " 
 
 " Then how can you hope that I could succeed ? 
 I, who have only a journalist's experience to meas- 
 ure against the training of "
 
 OFFER OF A QUEER OLD MAN 5 
 
 " There you are ! " the old man interrupted, 
 stamping his foot. " There you are ! Like all young 
 fools. Never to know your best gifts and so to slight 
 them. Talk about your experience measured against 
 that of a professional detective ! Bah ! How many 
 detectives concern themselves about the hair-line of 
 accuracy ? How many professional detectives ana- 
 lyze ? How many are capable of deducing a pro- 
 position without forestalling a conclusion, as you 
 have done in that clipping? Now can you under- 
 stand why it is you that I want for the work ? " 
 
 I thought that he had made the matter fairly 
 clear. I did not, however, feel disposed to consider 
 his offer. 
 
 " I am very well satisfied with my present posi- 
 tion," I ventured. 
 
 " Bah ! And what will it lead you to ? An edi- 
 tor's chair some time, perhaps, and a life's work for 
 an amount of money that I will give you in a year 
 or in a month, if you succeed. Now will you 
 listen ? " 
 
 I glanced at my watch. 
 
 " I am pressed for time at this hour," I said. 
 " Is it agreeable to you to appoint a later time when 
 we can discuss the matter more at our leisure ? " 
 
 " At your leisure, you mean," he cried rudely. 
 " No ; it must be now or not at all. You pressed 
 for time ! A life of time is before you, while I 
 Bah ! I, too, am pressed for time. I have come a 
 long way to see you and I must be getting back." 
 
 That I was dealing with a crank or worse 
 I had small doubt. But, as he intimated, it might
 
 6 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 be wiser to hear him out. I therefore offered him 
 a chair, which the old man this time made no ob- 
 jection to taking, and prepared to listen to him. 
 
 He was affable and concise when it became a 
 matter of exact business. His name, he said, was 
 Philander Summerfield, and he was a cosmopolite 
 now in Europe, in the Orient, or in America, 
 as the fancy seized him. At that time his head- 
 quarters were in Boston. All he demanded of me 
 was that I give up all other work and devote my 
 best energies to a study of the Somhers mystery. 
 He would restrict me in no course that I saw 
 fit to pursue, and any reasonable amount of money 
 necessary to carry on the work should be promptly 
 forthcoming. He required, however, a semi-weekly 
 report of my progress, and an itemized account of 
 my expenditures in the interest of the case, " as a 
 matter of curiosity," he added. In consideration 
 of these offices on my part he would pay me a salary. 
 
 " What are you making now ? " he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 I told him. 
 
 " I will increase it by ten a week, and when you 
 succeed in bringing the criminal to justice twenty 
 thousand dollars shall be yours." 
 
 " Twenty thousand ! " I gasped, for half that 
 amount would have been an inducement. 
 
 " Twenty thousand ! " Mr. Summerfield repeated 
 with evident satisfaction. " And there is one point 
 that I would suggest. I should be glad to have you 
 make the acquaintance of young Milbrath and be 
 actuated by as much friendliness and sympathy
 
 OFFER OF A QUEER OLD MAN 7 
 
 for hirn as, consistently, you can feel. Do not 
 fancy that I have any personal interest in the 
 young man," he continued, in an altered tone, as 
 if answering the question that sprang to my lips 
 and was suppressed. " We have no acquaintance, 
 nor does he know that I exist. Indeed, I will re- 
 tract that request. Pay no attention to Milbrath 
 so far as I am concerned. What do I care about 
 him ? " and Mr. Summerfield's eyes gleamed an- 
 grily. " Did he not get the deserts of a headstrong, 
 willful lad ? 'No ; he may yet hang for all me ! " 
 
 " Then may I ask why you are trying to clear 
 his name ? " 
 
 " Clear his name ? T clear his name ? Oh, ho ! 
 young man. You are not so sharp-witted as I 
 judged you to be. / help Harrison Milbrath? 
 You mistake my purpose. I seek the truth for 
 truth's sake. Why not? Or better, since I ob- 
 serve that you doubt that statement, to satisfy a 
 curiosity to settle a theory of my own, perhaps." 
 He paused and eyed me shrewdly. 
 
 " I am peculiar," he continued presently, 
 with a flicker of a smile ; " t eccentric,' some ex- 
 press it. I have sufficient means to enjoy that privi- 
 lege. I am interested in this case solely from mo- 
 tives that could not, probably, actuate you, and I 
 am prevented from engaging in a personal investi- 
 gation of it for good and sufficient reasons. Now 
 what do you think of my offer?" 
 
 " It is a most liberal one," I said, and paused 
 as the strangeness of the situation flashed over me. 
 What did I know of this man ? Only the little that
 
 8 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he had chosen to tell me. And what proof had I of 
 the truth of that? 
 
 " Well, well," Mr. Summerfield cried impa- 
 tiently, and as if he read my thoughts. " Of course 
 you do not know me. How do you know that I am 
 not a crank, or worse, a madman the mur- 
 derer himself? Ah, ha! That is not a bad joke, 
 is it? To put you on my own track, as it were," 
 and he doubled over with mirthless laughter, and 
 then pulled himself to soberness as suddenly as 
 he had interrupted himself. " Yes ; I assure you 
 that I 'am ah ' eccentric/ But, my young 
 man, you need not hesitate on that account. I am 
 prepared to deposit in trust twenty thousand dollars 
 to be made payable to you as soon as you have met 
 the conditions of this simple contract. As for 
 references as to my reliability, call up the First 
 National Bank of Boston and ask whether Philan- 
 der Summerfield is good for twenty thousand dol- 
 lars. That is as much as you need to know about 
 me." 
 
 I acted upon Mr. Sumanerfield's suggestion. The 
 result was satisfactory to me, yet I could not bring 
 myself to sign the contract which Mr. Summerfield 
 produced, though it set forth nothing that he had 
 not mentioned. 
 
 With a quickness that seemed to be character- 
 istic, Mr. Summerfield read my indecision. 
 
 " Well," he said irritably, " you reach conclu- 
 sions slowly." 
 
 " I should like a day in which to consider your 
 extraordinary offer," I answered.
 
 OFFER OF A QUEER OLD MAN 9 
 
 " A day ? Not an hour ! Have I not told you 
 that I am in haste to be off? Now is your oppor- 
 tunity to make the foundation of a fortune if you 
 are clever, but your decision must be at once 
 at once, sir ! " 
 
 To the winds went my native caution. When 
 again would an opportunity to make twenty thou- 
 sand dollars in congenial work be flung at my feet ? 
 And if I failed? Well, the Sphere would still, no 
 doubt, be issued. 
 
 Half an hour later Mr. Philander Summerfield 
 and I parted company forever, as it proved. I 
 carried in my pocket a concisely worded contract 
 which bound me to his interests, therein specified, 
 for one year, if that length of time were required to 
 work out my case, and my thoughts were full of 
 the peculiarities of my new acquaintance and of 
 the curious change that circumstance had made in 
 my life; for, up to an hour earlier, criminal in- 
 vestigation was the last profession to which my 
 fancy would have turned.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MURBAY KILBOURNE AND THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 
 
 \ FEW hours later I severed my connection with 
 -*--*- the Sphere, and seven o'clock that evening 
 found me at the Reform Club dining vis-a-vis with 
 Murray Kilbourne, whom I had wired to meet me 
 there and help me celebrate. 
 
 What I had to tell him of my morning visitor 
 and his extraordinary offer turned him green, figu- 
 ratively speaking, for while a successful journalist 
 and an author of whom the world was beginning 
 to take cognizance, Murray Kilbourne was by pred- 
 ilection a sleuth of no mean ability. Indeed, 
 criminal detection had been the profession to 
 which he turned naturally upon leaving college. 
 But he had abandoned the field after a year of 
 work, to accept a small fortune left to him by an 
 uncle on condition that he devote his entire energies 
 to the cultivation of his literary talent a wise 
 stipulation, it seemed to me; for, in spite of Kil- 
 bourne's ability, his delicate health and periods of 
 constitutional lassitude, when he abhorred concen- 
 trated thought or action, would, in all likelihood, 
 have kept him always in the ranks of the little 
 known. 
 
 " By Jove ! Bliss," he cried enviously. " You 're 
 a lucky dog. When do you enter upon your new 
 career ? "
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 11 
 
 " I 'm in it now," I laughed. " Dining like a 
 Tammany chief will henceforth be one of the fea- 
 tures of my increased salary. Stick to me, Murray, 
 and you '11 not starve. What do you think of the 
 old fellow?" 
 
 " Summerfield ? Oh, a monomaniac, no doubt ; 
 or, perhaps, a philanthropist who saw in you a fit 
 subject for a lift" 
 
 " I like that ! Have a care or you '11 not be 
 asked to my country place this summer." 
 
 " So ! Where may I go if I 'm proper ? " 
 
 " To Overlook, in Winton, a New England vil- 
 lage just over the line from Connecticut where 
 the old man Somhers lived and met his end that 
 is if I 'm successful in getting the place for a time. 
 I saw it advertised for sale or for rent the other 
 day. Know the place ? " for Kilbourne was frown- 
 ing reflectively. 
 
 " The name seems to be associated in my mind, 
 though I can't tell how. It may come to me pres- 
 ently. So you plan to go there ? " 
 
 " Probably I shall want the place for only a 
 short time, while I put myself into humor with 
 the conditions that prevailed there at the time of 
 the tragedy a month, perhaps, if I can get it. 
 Harrison Milbrath can doubtless settle that point 
 for me." 
 
 " The nephew who was charged with the crime ? 
 I 'm not familiar with that case. What were the 
 leading features of it ? " 
 
 " Why, the old man was found dead in his library, 
 lying on a couch, an ugly bruise above his left
 
 12 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 temple, but no other marks of violence in evidence. 
 The physicians and police decided that the wound 
 was caused by a blow from a blunt instrument, 
 which, by the way, was never found. It was evi- 
 dent enough that he had not been killed while on 
 the couch, for there was not a drop of blood on 
 anything except upon the body and clothes. A 
 curious feature of the affair, too, was that a piece 
 of oilcloth that no one seemed able to identify had 
 been put under the old man's head, as if to save 
 the couch." 
 
 " A considerate criminal," commented Kilbourne 
 with a smile. 
 
 " But another proof that the body was taken 
 to the couch some little time after the murder was 
 the fact that there was not a stain upon the oil- 
 cloth. The blood of the victim had had time to 
 congeal, you see." 
 
 Kilbourne nodded. 
 
 " Well, the nephew, Harrison Milbrath, who 
 had lived with Mr. Somhers for twelve years or 
 more, seemed to be the only person on earth with 
 whom Mr. Somhers ever had trouble, or who would 
 profit largely by his death, so, naturally, suspicion 
 pointed to him. Moreover, it was proved that on 
 the very day of the tragedy uncle and nephew had 
 indulged in a fierce disagreement, after which Mil- 
 brath left the house with an expression anything 
 but pleasant on his face. No one in the household, 
 which consisted of only a maid and a cook, besides 
 the two men (for Mr. Somhers was a widower), 
 saw the young man again until the day after the
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 13 
 
 tragedy, when he returned from Boston, where he 
 swore that he had been for eighteen hours. But 
 there were witnesses who took their oath that he was 
 on the road between Winton and Overlook, a mile 
 out of the village, walking toward home, within 
 the time the physicians testified that Mr. Somhers 
 must have died. Unfortunately he did n't prove his 
 alibi, and he was found guilty. At a second trial, 
 however, an eminently respectable and well-known 
 man seems to me it was a clergyman testified 
 that Milbrath was with him in Boston at the time 
 of the tragedy. That seemed to settle the matter in 
 the minds of the jury, for they returned a verdict 
 of acquittal." 
 
 " Hum ! " meditated Kilbourne, toying with his 
 oyster fork. " Did no one else come under the 
 shadow of suspicion ? " 
 
 " Never a soul, so far as I know. The servants 
 swore that no one called at the house that day, not 
 even a tradesman. Besides, Mr. Somhers was more 
 or less of a recluse and had no enemies." 
 
 "Who found the body?" 
 
 " One of the servants who went to announce din- 
 ner. I believe it was the housemaid." 
 
 " An interesting case," commented Kilbourne. 
 " Say, but you are lucky, Bliss ! " Then, after a 
 moment's pause : " Did young Milbrath profit 
 largely by his uncle's death ? " 
 
 " To the tune of something like a million, I 
 believe." 
 
 " A pretty penny for a rainy day, hey ? Where 
 is he now ? "
 
 14 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " On his way here, I hope. I traced him through 
 his attorneys and sent a messenger to the Oriental, 
 at Manhattan Beach, where he is stopping, with a 
 hint of my purpose and an invitation to join us 
 here at dinner." 
 
 " I assume that he declined ? " 
 
 " He answered that he would meet us later in 
 the parlors at nine o'clock. He may be able to 
 lend me a hand somehow. I fancy that I '11 need 
 all the help that comes my way, for in two years 
 every clue not obvious may be lost." 
 
 " Humph ! " sniffed Kilbourne contemptuously. 
 " A fine, faint-hearted lad you are ! Two years, 
 indeed ! If ever there was a true clue face upward, 
 it is there yet." 
 
 " Well, if two years does n't seem long to you, 
 it does to me," I answered, with an assumption of 
 his own superiority. " The die is cast, however. 
 I '11 make that twenty thousand dollars if any skill 
 of mine avails." 
 
 Kilbourne shrugged his wide, gaunt shoulders. 
 
 " Let me see your contract," he said. 
 
 I produced it. He studied it for a minute, and 
 handed it back. 
 
 " This Summerfield came prepared to secure your 
 services, evidently, notwithstanding the fact that 
 he did not know your name." 
 
 " You infer that from the fact that my name 
 is penned in the space left for a name ? " 
 
 Kilbourne nodded. 
 
 " Well, he did not know, either, what salary he 'd 
 have to pay, as doubtless you 've likewise observed.
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 15 
 
 No matter what my personality, position, or ability, 
 I was to be pressed into his service. A very confident 
 old man, it seems to me and all because I 
 chanced to write a few lines that pleased him ! " 
 
 " So it appears. But it would interest me to 
 know his reason for assuming a handwriting, this 
 Mr. Philander Summerfield, the cosmopolite." 
 
 " His handwriting assumed ! What evidence 
 have you ? " and I hastily unfolded the sheet to 
 see for myself. 
 
 Kilbourne put up his hand to hide a yawn. 
 
 " Elmer," he said, with languid amusement, 
 " You are so clever ! By Jove ! You fairly scintil- 
 late! Even you, if you look carefully, will be 
 able to detect a difference between the signature 
 and the parts so neatly and so painstakingly filled 
 in by hand. Yet they were undoubtedly done by 
 the same person." 
 
 " Unquestionably, for I saw both written ; and 
 though the difference, except in the size of the let- 
 ters, did not impress me at the time, I see now that 
 even their formation differs somewhat." 
 
 " Precisely. It takes considerable rubbing to 
 polish your power of observation, as I learned long 
 ago, but it will polish." 
 
 " Thank you ! It is comforting to know that I 
 am not hopeless. But Kilbourne, I recognize my 
 limitations, and I 've got to have you at the helm. 
 It was, indeed, the remembrance of you that turned 
 the balance of decision when the old man pressed 
 me." 
 
 Kilbourne's pale, thin face became tinged with
 
 16 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 color about the high cheek bones, and he lifted his 
 deep-set dark eyes in one penetrating glance. I 
 knew his susceptibility to flattery in the matter of 
 his detective skill, but I was not making use of my 
 knowledge, as he saw. 
 
 " There ! There ! " he demurred, but with a 
 pleased smile. " By the way, it has just come to 
 me about Winton. Mr. McClure lives there, if I 'm 
 not mistaken. No; you don't know Mr. McClure, 
 probably, unless by name. He 's a good deal of a 
 scientist in his line an authority, I believe, on 
 the birds of New England, which he writes about. 
 I met him on the steamer coming home four years 
 ago, and I was never so fascinated by a man of his 
 years before, or since. I '11 give you a card to him. 
 Whether he remembers me or not, I 'm sure he '11 
 make you glad that you met him. Ah! What is 
 this?" 
 
 It was Harrison Milbrath's card ; and as we did 
 not linger over the final touches of our dinner we 
 were soon standing before the young man. 
 
 He was a huge fellow, quite as broad and taller, 
 even, than Kilbourne, who stood six feet one in his 
 stockings. But Kilbourne was gaunt to attenua- 
 tion, angular and aquiline, and Milbrath possessed 
 a sleek fullness, athletic, however, rather than 
 voluptuous. 
 
 He acknowledged my greeting and the introduc- 
 tion to Kilbourne with grave dignity, odd in contrast 
 to the boyish face, which a soft beard did not ma- 
 ture, and his alert movements. There was the 
 same reflection of pain in his candid eyes, and of
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 17 
 
 contained sensitiveness about his well-shaped lips 
 that had impressed me when first I saw him. 
 
 " Your note, Mr. Bliss," he said when, after a 
 few pleasantries, we found ourselves, with lighted 
 cigars, upon a divan, " your note referred to a 
 stranger who has engaged you to investigate the 
 mystery of my uncle's death. May I know the 
 name of this friend ? " 
 
 " Philander Summerfield." 
 
 Milbrath repeated the name reflectively and 
 shook his head. 
 
 " I never heard of him." 
 
 " He said that he was unknown to you." 
 
 "Elderly?" 
 
 " Quite so ; past sixty, I should say." 
 
 " A friend of my uncle's, no doubt." 
 
 " On the contrary he took pains to explain that 
 his motive in having the case investigated was actu- 
 ated by nothing more lofty than curiosity. He ap- 
 pears to have formed some theory which he wishes 
 proved, or disproved." 
 
 " Um ! Do you think that he suspects some one ? " 
 
 " That idea came to me, but I rejected it when he 
 offered me twenty thousand dollars to solve the 
 mystery and produce my man." 
 
 " Twenty thousand dollars ! He pays well for 
 gratified curiosity. It would be interesting to know 
 Mr. Summerfield, if he is as original in everything." 
 
 " He at least possesses the faculty of keeping one 
 guessing." 
 
 Milbrath puffed at his cigar for a moment in 
 thoughtful silence. 
 
 2
 
 18 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I glanced at Kilbourne, who faced us in a high- 
 back chair. Between his almost closed eyelids he 
 was regarding Milbrath with steady scrutiny, and I 
 knew that when he turned away he would have 
 formed an opinion of the young man that in all 
 probability he would never change. But his silence 
 made me apprehensive, for I knew from experience 
 that silence in Kilbourne foreboded antipathy or 
 antagonism. I had faith that his analysis of Mil- 
 brath's character would be unprejudiced and prac- 
 tically unerring; but I knew, also, that he was 
 given to personal dislikes founded, as he was frank 
 enough to admit, on nothing more reliable than in- 
 tuition, which would utterly destroy his interest 
 in a person or a case; and I felt that I should 
 be lost without Kilbourne's counsel in this new 
 work. 
 
 I explained to Milbrath that I had accepted Mr. 
 Summerfield's proposition because he had insisted 
 on an immediate decision, " but," I added, " I have 
 no intention of doing anything without your per- 
 mission; that was one of the stipulations of my 
 agreement with him." 
 
 Milbrath shot at me a glance of surprise and 
 question. 
 
 " My permission ? " he repeated, and smiled. 
 " It had not occurred to me that my permission was 
 necessary. You are good to put it that way, and 
 of course you have it. Go ahead in your own way 
 and count upon me for any assistance I can give. 
 Shall you wish to visit Overlook ? " 
 
 " That will doubtless be the best beginning. I
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 19 
 
 should like to go there, however, not as a detective, 
 but as a tenant, if I can arrange terms." 
 
 " That point need not trouble you. You are wel- 
 come to use the place indefinitely. The property 
 is in the hands of an agent, but I will see that he 
 understands the situation. When will you care to 
 go out ? " 
 
 " To-morrow if I may." 
 
 " So soon ? Then I will give you a note to Mr. 
 Arms, the farmer, who is also caretaker of the 
 grounds. The house, you understand, is closed and 
 deserted. Perhaps you would be more comfortable 
 at the farm. Mrs. Arms has taken a summer 
 boarder before now. In that way you would have 
 the run of the place without the inconvenience of 
 keeping it up." 
 
 " That feature has no terror for me. Mine will 
 be a bachelor establishment, and I know a French- 
 man who will jump at the chance of going out with 
 me as general factotum. Besides, I think that I 
 should be freer at the villa." 
 
 " That is possible. The Wintonites are a simple- 
 hearted, hospitable folk, distinctively rural in type, 
 and ready enough to take a stranger into their circle, 
 unless, indeed," a connection with ' The Place of 
 Silence,' as I hear they have come to call Overlook, 
 stands in the way. Excuse me for a moment and I 
 will write an introduction to Mr. Arms." 
 
 He turned to a writing table at his elbow and 
 penned a few lines, which he handed to me. 
 
 " This note should provide every convenience for 
 you and your work at Overlook," he said. " But
 
 20 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 if anything is lacking, please let me know what it 
 is. I have engaged passage on the Umbria which 
 sails a week from to-morrow, but if I can help you 
 by remaining I will cancel my booking." 
 
 " That seems hardly necessary, thank you. Still 
 if you can arrange to be with me while you are here 
 it would be very helpful." 
 
 An expression of acute pain flashed across Mil- 
 brath's mobile face, and he shook his head. 
 
 " Anywhere but in Winton," he said sadly. 
 " The townspeople still hold me guilty they look 
 askance at me, at least." 
 
 " But you were acquitted." 
 
 " True afterward. I tell you, Mr. Bliss, a 
 man who has done a crime may be satisfied to get 
 free with his life, but one without guilt who has 
 been held and convicted, then freed, will carry a 
 stain on his name and a blight on his happiness 
 just so long as the real criminal remains undetected. 
 Good God! You cannot understand it. No one 
 who has not been through it can know what it means 
 to have a free conscience, and yet realize that wher- 
 ever his name precedes him there are some to look 
 at him with distrustful eyes, believing that the court 
 erred in giving him his freedom." 
 
 Milbrath spoke rapidly and with dramatic in- 
 tensity. I stretched out my hand and touched his 
 arm. 
 
 " We are going to find the real criminal now," 
 I said convincingly. " But, Mr. Milbrath, there is 
 need for absolute candor between us. Without 
 your confidence I can work only in a half light, and
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS HELD 21 
 
 you know what that means. May I ask some 
 questions ? " 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " Have you any theory as to who murdered Mr. 
 Somhers ? " 
 
 Milbrath's eyes fell and he pulled out his watch 
 and glanced at it nervously. 
 
 " No/' he said, after a second. 
 
 I heard Kilbourne catch his breath sharply, but 
 his face remained impassive. 
 
 " And there is no one whom you suspect of know- 
 ing who did it ? " 
 
 Again Milbrath took out his watch and looked at 
 it with unseeing eyes before he spoke. 
 
 " N-o," he said again.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 
 
 rflHERE was a pause when the only sound was 
 -*- the voices of a trio of men across the room. 
 Then Milbrath said slowly: 
 
 " You argued once, I remember, that the man who 
 did that deed was older or less vigorous than I. Do 
 you mind telling me how you reached that 
 conclusion ? " 
 
 " By deduction." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Did not the dust stains on the back of the 
 trouser-legs and at the bottom and back of the coat 
 mean something to you ? " 
 
 " I confess that I had forgotten that point." 
 
 " It was not developed, but it was a fact testified 
 to. What could it mean but that Mr. Somhers' body 
 was dragged? And the curious tear on the back 
 of the coat ? And the piece of cloth that was found 
 on the small nail on the side of the couch ? Did they 
 not show that the body had been lifted by its 
 armpits, presumably from the floor to the couch ? " 
 
 " By George ! " cried Milbrath. " You mean 
 that the assassin was not strong enough to lift the 
 body and carry it ? " 
 
 " Precisely. Would an able-bodied young man 
 like you pull a body, when you could lift it easily 
 and carry it noiselessly and quickly ? "
 
 AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 23 
 
 A new thought seemed to come to Milbrath, and 
 his face lost its sudden glow. 
 
 " If the crime were not premeditated, if " 
 
 he began, and hesitated. " Is it not possible that 
 the assassin was strong, but so startled by his deed 
 as to become weak for the moment ? " 
 
 " Possible, but improbable, for there is the ab- 
 normal strength which excitement or fear gives." 
 
 Mr. Milbrath rose. He seemed suddenly tired. 
 He looked at his watch again, this time compre- 
 hendingly. 
 
 " I must leave you ff I can be of no assistance 
 just now, for I wish to get back to the Oriental to- 
 night," he said. " You sound logical, Mr. Bliss, 
 and, as you can believe, there is no one more anxious 
 for your success than I. If you are successful you 
 may count on me to do as well by you as that old 
 gentleman. No ; by George ! I '11 go him one better. 
 I will give you forty thousand dollars. But be cer- 
 tain of your man before you hold him. I have 
 found, you see, how hollow a thing is circumstantial 
 evidence." 
 
 I accompanied Mr. Milbrath to the street door, 
 but Kilbourne, after a listless handshake with the 
 young man, returned to his chair. When I returned 
 he appeared to be asleep. 
 
 " Will you have a game of billiards now ? " I 
 asked, rapping him on the shoulder, for I knew that 
 he was awake. 
 
 " No ; home and bed for me," with a yawn. 
 " I 'm insufferably weary with listening to all your 
 twaddle."
 
 24 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Thank you. I hope you will feel more agreeable 
 in the morning. Was it the oysters in August, or 
 the watermelon ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Clevah lad ! " and Kilbourne eyed me 
 with a grin that asked pardon for his words. " So 
 deuced clevah ! No ; it is this protege of yours who 
 has given me the colic." 
 
 "You don't like him?" 
 
 " Quite true, but not to like people is no uncom- 
 mon feature in -me, you '11 admit." 
 
 " Be reasonable. In plain language, what do you 
 think of Harrison Milbrath ? " 
 
 " Oh, your estimate of him will pass." 
 
 " Just a big boy, saddened by a bitter experience 
 for which he was blameless ? " 
 
 " I guess you have it, though he knows more that 
 you want to know than he is willing to tell." 
 
 " Do you think it is anything that implicates 
 him?" ' 
 
 " N-o." 
 
 " Then give me your interest in this case. I '11 
 get out of him what he withheld to-night and you 
 will help me clear his name." 
 
 "Not I!" 
 
 " Because you have taken one of your absurd 
 and unaccountable dislikes to the boy ! " 
 
 " That may be the reason why his case does not 
 interest me. I Ve found, however, that my ' absurd 
 and unaccountable dislikes ' are pretty well founded, 
 usually." 
 
 " On intuition." 
 
 " That is sufficient."
 
 AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 25 
 
 " Not for a man of your intellect." 
 
 " As you like about that. It is better, neverthe- 
 less, for that young man and me to remain a good 
 distance apart." 
 
 " Why ? " I asked, knowing full well what the 
 substance of the answer would be, for, before then, 
 I had run up against a similar phase of Murray Kil- 
 bourne's contradictory nature. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Milbrath and I are natural antago- 
 nists. Conversationally we should get along ami- 
 cably enough ; but there is something in his life or 
 in mine that will make me want to knife him before 
 we are done with each other," answered Kilbourne. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Kilbourne ! " I cried. " The 
 good Lord certainly made a mistake when he turned 
 you out. You were designed for an old woman ! " 
 
 Kilbourne grinned sympathetically. 
 
 " All right," he returned. " He gave me broad, 
 strong, masculine shoulders, at all events. I can 
 bear anything that you care to call me." 
 
 I was too annoyed by Kilbourne's attitude to 
 discuss the matter further with him at that time, and 
 as he persisted in his intention to return home, we 
 parted for the night. 
 
 As I passed through the room on my way to the 
 street my attention was attracted to the figure of a 
 small man huddled in one of the great chairs, and I 
 recognized the insignificant figure as Barney Raf- 
 ferts, a two-penny detective whom I had bumped 
 against at various times in my reportorial experience. 
 
 " Hello, Barney ! " I said, approaching him. 
 " Hello, there ! Don't pose sweet slumber. I can
 
 26 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 see you winking." Whereupon Barney unclosed two 
 small and shifting eyes, and regarded me with a 
 yawn. 
 
 " Ah there, Bliss. Say, if you are going out I 
 think I '11 join you. I 'm done here." 
 
 We walked across the block to Broadway and 
 parted at once, for I took the first car that came along 
 and left Rafferts standing on the corner. He was a 
 measly cur, a discredit to his profession, but he was 
 too small to win more than a passing contempt, and 
 I quickly dismissed him and the conjecture as to 
 his probable mission to the Reform Club from my 
 mind for the time. 
 
 The following noon, when Kilbourne and I 
 lunched together at the Astor House, Kilbourne was 
 in a more relenting mood. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, in answer to my invitation, 
 " I '11 run up to Winton for Sunday to see how many 
 ghosts you 've laid in the haunted castle, and maybe 
 we can track down a working theory, if you 've not 
 caught one by that time." 
 
 After lunch I had just time to get to my lodgings 
 for my suitcase and to the station before my train 
 left 
 
 As I let myself into the house, my attention was 
 attracted to a large white envelope lying upon the 
 shelf beneath the mirror that also served as a hall 
 tree just inside the door. It was addressed to me, 
 and, catching it up, I tore it open hastily and pulled 
 out the sheet of white writing paper that it contained. 
 In typewriting, without heading, salutation, or sig- 
 nature, was this message:
 
 AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 27 
 
 None but the unwary or the foolish would venture 
 to Overlook. There is danger there for YOU. Be- 
 ware of Horsford. 
 
 I turned again to the envelope, which was of 
 ordinary make, such as can be purchased of any 
 stationer. The typewritten address was correct, and 
 iny name was given in fulL But it bore neither 
 stamp nor postmark. It had come, then, by person. 
 I called the maids, both of whom professed igno- 
 rance of the note's arrival. The landlady showed 
 acute mystification. Her room was the first floor 
 rear and she had seen every one, she said, who let 
 himself in or out of the house, or had rung, since 
 my own departure in the morning. In her opinion, 
 the message had been left by some one living in the 
 house, but that idea I rejected mentally, for I knew 
 that no one (unless I talked in my sleep) could 
 know of my proposed trip to Overlook. Moreover, 
 I had communicated my intention of going there to 
 but two persons, Kilbourne and Milbrath, and it 
 was improbable that any one had overheard our con- 
 versation unless 
 
 My mind flew to Rafferts. Had that miserable 
 cur anything to do with it? I rejected the possi- 
 bility after a moment's reflection, for even had he 
 overheard our conversation and wished to annoy 
 me by means of an anonymous message it would be 
 more like him to leave it at the club than to shadow 
 me home, the only way, I knew, that he could have 
 learned where I lived. My mail and directory ad- 
 dress had for years been the club, and I had been in 
 my present rooming place so short a time that I felt
 
 28 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 certain that even Kilbourne did not know my street. 
 For the same reason Milbrath could not come under 
 suspicion, even had our acquaintance permitted him 
 to play such a prank. 
 
 But I had no time to consider the matter any 
 further just then. I promised the maids a liberal 
 reward if they could find who left the note, and then 
 I made a dash for the train. 
 
 On the way to Winton, the undercurrent of my 
 thoughts was busy with that mysterious letter. Who 
 was Horsf ord ? Where had I heard the name ? But 
 I was to know about Horsford and very soon.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 WHO HOESFOKD WAS 
 
 village of Winton lies on a neck of land that 
 curves around like a bent forefinger pointing 
 oceanward. On one side the surf pounds upon a 
 stony beach at the foot of a stretch of marsh ; on the 
 other side, across the tiny bay, lies the county seat of 
 Beverly. The main street follows the curve of the 
 land from the lighthouse on the point well back on 
 the neck; and there, in neighborly proximity, one 
 finds church and post office, shops and homes. 
 
 Where the buildings begin to straggle away from 
 one another at the north end of the street, the road 
 makes a sudden turn to the left to within a hundred 
 yards of the bay, then northward again for half a 
 mile, until it appears to be stopped by the grilled 
 iron gates at the main entrance to Overlook. As a 
 matter of fact, the last two hundred feet of this road 
 is simply an approach to the main drive to the villa, 
 which stands upon a bluff looking toward Beverly, 
 while the highroad continues with a flourish to the 
 right, on the other side of a small triangle of 
 woods. 
 
 The sun, red and uncompromisingly hot, was 
 sinking into a line of sullen gray clouds at the hori- 
 zon, when I stepped from the train that August 
 evening and looked about me.
 
 30 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 An uncommonly attractive girl, who had attracted 
 and held my covert interest during the trip and who 
 left the car while I was struggling with a strap on 
 my suitcase, had vanished, and she and I appeared 
 to have been the only passengers deposited at the 
 little station. 
 
 On the farther side of the tracks the marsh 
 stretched in uninterrupted desolation to the very 
 sun itself, it seemed. The rails glistened in a long, 
 curving line to the left, and the train that had 
 brought me became a diminishing object soon lost 
 to sight. From the marsh came the monotonous 
 croak of frogs and the cry of a wild bird. . 
 
 A chill of loneliness swept over me, and I turned 
 with an involuntary shudder to find myself face to 
 face with an odd-looking old man who stood in the 
 doorway of the one-room station. His face was as 
 innocent of hair as a new born babe's, but brown 
 and seamed with countless lines. He wore a wig of 
 pale brown hair a score of years too young for him, 
 and his eyes, small and shrewd and blue, met mine 
 with an amused twinkle. 
 
 " Purty scen'ry," he volunteered cheerfully, with 
 a wave of his hand toward the desolate marshland. 
 
 " To be sure. Can you tell me how far Overlook 
 is from here ? " 
 
 The old man looked me over curiously. 
 
 "Overlook ?" he repeated. " W-all, I guess I can, 
 but p'raps you don' know there ain't nobody livin' 
 at Overlook now but the farmer." 
 
 "Yes; I do know. It is the farmer I want to 
 see."
 
 WHO HORSFOKD WAS 31 
 
 " Ho ! W-all, it 's a consid'able ways out there." 
 
 " Is there any one about here who will drive me 
 out?" 
 
 " W-all, my boy Hank '11 have to take ye if I say 
 so, an' if ye don' mind waitin' 'round till we can 
 hitch up." 
 
 " Thank you. I will wait. I dare say it will not 
 take long?" 
 
 " 'Bout fifteen min'ets. Say, I 'm station agent 
 here, an' I 'm going to shet up fer the night. That 
 was the last train till six to-morror mornin'. Don' 
 mind comin' 'cross the road to my house, d' ye, while 
 we fix ye out with a rig ? " 
 
 "No; I will go." 
 
 We took a few steps in silence. Then the old 
 man looked up at me, curiosity overrunning every 
 feature. 
 
 " My name 's John Hutton," he said. , 
 
 " Mine is Bliss," I responded. 
 
 " Good I Ye 're from N> Yo'k, I s'ppose ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Hum ! W-all, there 's my house." He spoke 
 with pride as he pointed to a cottage opposite the 
 rear of the station. " An' that 's my wife on the 
 p'azzie. Here, Eliza Ann, this stranger is a-goin' 
 to wait while Hank hitches up to take him to 
 Overlook." 
 
 I declined the proffered chair and seated myself 
 on a step. Hutton disappeared immediately, and 
 Mrs. Hutton continued to sway placidly to and fro 
 in her big chair, her plump hands crossed upon her 
 ample stomach. Presently she spoke.
 
 32 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Overlook ain't so much of a place now the old 
 man 's gone," she said. 
 
 " I dare say it has run down." 
 
 " An' they do say over village way it 's for rent, 
 after all that happened there, too. Who 'd want to 
 live there, / 'd like to know ? " 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 " I think I shall not mind. I 've taken it for a 
 time," I answered. 
 
 The old lady looked interested. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! " she exclaimed. " You 
 don' say ! " and she continued to regard me in 
 amused meditation. " You 've got good nerves, I 
 s'ppose ? " she volunteered presently. 
 
 " I have always believed so." 
 
 " W-all, that 's a good thing, I sh'd say. I don' 
 wan' to scare you since you 've got the place on your 
 han's, but over village way they do say that Mr. 
 Somhers comes back to Overlook sometimes. You 'd 
 better not tell your wife that when she comes. I 'm 
 just a-tellin' you so you can be lookin' out. Any 
 children, have you ? " 
 
 " I 'm a bachelor." 
 
 " You don' say ! " A long pause. " An' you 
 takin' the Place of Silence ? That 's most as bad as 
 Mr. Somhers himself. I never could see what a man 
 wants to live alone for." 
 
 At that moment Mr. Hutton appeared to an- 
 nounce that the " hoss an' buggy " were ready, and 
 I paid my adieux to Mrs. Hutton, who suddenly 
 wondered whether I would like " a bite o' somethin' 
 to eat."
 
 WHO HOKSFOKD WAS 33 
 
 I assured her, with thanks, that doubtless I should 
 be able to get supper at the farm, and left her smil- 
 ing placidly. 
 
 It was quite apparent that the raw-boned lad of 
 fifteen or thereabouts, whom the station master in- 
 formally introduced as u my gran'boy, Hank," was 
 not over-delighted with the idea of conveying me 
 to Overlook. 
 
 " I ain't got no use fer that place," he declared 
 unexpectedly when we were well on the way. 
 " This 's the third time gran'dad 's sent me out here 
 at dark with some city feller like you. Wish that 
 seven o'clock train got in at noon, I do," and Hank 
 kicked the dashboard vindictively." 
 
 " Say," he continued presently, looking at me with 
 new interest, " air you a detective ? " 
 ' " What gave you an idea that I might be a 
 detective ? " 
 
 " Over village way here they say Harry Milbrath, 
 who killed his uncle, is trying to make folks think he 
 did n't do it by sendin' detective men up from N* 
 Yo'k to look 's as if they was tryin' to fin' out some- 
 body else that did it. The other two fellers was de- 
 tectives, I guess." 
 
 I had a fancy that the boy was right on that point. 
 
 " Pretty nice place, Overlook, is n't it ? " I asked 
 after a minute. 
 
 The boy hunched his shoulders but did not an- 
 swer; nor could I induce him to further conver- 
 sation. 
 
 We were passing through the village by this time, 
 and I observed, first with amusement, then with 
 
 3
 
 34 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 something akin to discomfort, that we were the 
 centre of attraction. There appeared to be some- 
 thing unusual about us, for though it was dusk, men 
 paused and looked back at us. At first I supposed 
 my companion to be the source of this attention, 
 but I overheard a word spoken by one of a group of 
 men standing upon the steps of the post office that 
 enlightened me. 
 
 " Is it because we are going to Overlook that 
 people stare at us ? " I asked Henry. 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Does no one in town ever go 
 up to the place ? " 
 
 " Nope. " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Do you think me a detective ? " 
 
 " Yep. " 
 
 By this time we had turned off the main street, 
 and it was a country road over which we jogged. 
 The soft summer dusk had settled all around us, and 
 the only sounds that broke upon the air besides the 
 pounding of the horse's feet upon the earth and the 
 rattle of the " buggy " were the croak of frogs and 
 the gentle " swish " of water lapping the beach be- 
 low. It was a silence which, in my present state of 
 mind, seemed uncanny. I sighed with relief when 
 Henry drove into a private roadway and almost im- 
 mediately pulled up before a small red-roofed house. 
 We had taken the highroad to the left of the wooded 
 triangle and reached the cottage of the farmer of 
 Overlook.
 
 35 
 
 " There," said Henry, in a tone of relief, " here 
 you be, an' I hope you don' wan' me to stay ? " 
 
 " No ; here 's your money. I 'm much obliged 
 to you." And I could not resist adding: "Now 
 go quick before the ghost of the Place of Silence 
 catches you." And then I stepped back and laughed 
 heartily at the rapidity with which the lad whirled 
 around and was off. 
 
 I turned to the door of the cottage to find it open 
 and myself face to face with a youngish man, broad 
 and athletic in appearance, beardless and sunburned 
 scarcely the man I expected to see there, for my 
 conception of Mr. Arms was of a lean man and 
 elderly. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Arms," I said. 
 
 " 'E is yonder," answered the man, pointing 
 northeastward. " There is a white 'ouse with green 
 blinds ten minutes beyond. 'E lives there." 
 
 " Is this not Overlook ? " 
 
 "Aye, sir." 
 
 " And is not Mr. Arms the farmer here ? " 
 
 " 'E was, sir," corrected the man laconically, "but 
 I ham the farmer now." 
 
 " Indeed ! " It seemed curious that Mr. Milbrath 
 should have given me an introduction to a man no 
 longer on the place. It looked as if he did not know 
 of the change. I could not see, however, that it 
 made much difference to me. 
 
 " Well, then," I answered, " you, not Mr. Arms, 
 are the man I want. I am the new tenant for Over- 
 look. My man will be on to-morrow. In the mean- 
 time can you give me shelter and food? This note
 
 36 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 from Mr. Milbrath will explain the situation," and 
 I handed him the introduction. 
 
 Instantly the same expression of curiosity that I 
 had observed on the face of nearly every one who 
 had looked at me since I arrived in Winton came 
 into this man's face. 
 
 " Aye, sir," he responded courteously, " hut," he 
 hesitated, " if you will excuse me, sir, I think you 
 will be more comfortable with my cousin, who is 
 Mr. Arms. I can drive you hover. The rooms 'ere 
 are small and " 
 
 " That will not bother me in the least," I inter- 
 rupted, " and I do not wish to put you or your wife 
 to any trouble. A bed or a cot anywhere will do 
 for the night. I dare say I shall be able to get into 
 the villa to-morrow." 
 
 The man's heavy brows lowered a trifle, but his 
 voice remained even and courteous. 
 
 " I should be glad to accommodate you, sir, but 
 my wife is far from well." 
 
 A young woman whom I had observed through 
 the open door of an adjoining room now came slowly 
 forward, a toddling child clutching at her skirts. 
 
 " Harsk the gentleman in, Joe," she interrupted 
 sharply, " and I will lay out a bite for 'im before I 
 'ush the babe to sleep." 
 
 The man, whose large form had blocked the door- 
 way, made room for me to pass within, and as I did 
 so I heard the woman mutter beneath her breath 
 to him : " 'Ave you no sense, you ? " 
 
 Both man and woman spoke with a distinct Cock- 
 ney accent, and I was not long in learning from the
 
 37 
 
 woman as she moved about getting ready some food 
 that they had come from England a short time be- 
 fore Mr. Somhers' tragic end ; that Mr. Arms, who 
 had been beneficiary to five thousand dollars by the 
 will of Mr. Somhers, had shortly thereafter bought 
 the little place on which he was now living and had 
 recommended that his cousin Joe be placed in charge 
 of Overlook farm and grounds until, at least, affairs 
 connected with the estate should be settled. 
 
 When I had finished the meal, the woman had 
 disappeared with the child, and I walked out to the 
 tiny portico where Joe sat, pipe in mouth, with his 
 feet against the rail and his chair tilted back against 
 the house. He rose at once and offered me his 
 chair, but I took the steps, saying that I would like 
 to sit there a while and smoke a cigar. 
 
 To my disappointment I found that Joe could not 
 be induced to talk, and we sat in a silence that 
 seemed to grow deeper and more depressing as the 
 twilight faded into night. I hailed with relief, 
 therefore, the reappearance of the wife, whom I 
 had found to be possessed of a loquacious tongue. I 
 encouraged her to join us, though I clearly saw that 
 her husband opposed her coming. She needed little 
 encouragement to talk, and once started she chatted 
 unceasingly like a child mostly about her former 
 connection with Lord Lindley's family, of which she 
 appeared proud ; and she laughed a good deal, and 
 rather noisily. 
 
 After a little she grew suddenly quiet, and I saw 
 in the dim light that her head had sunk to her hus- 
 band's arm and that she slept.
 
 38 THE SNAKE OF . CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Joe looked down upon the quiet face and heaved 
 a sigh. Was it of relief? It occurred to me what 
 he had said of his wife's health. She looked well 
 as robust and buxom as a dairy maid, and of much 
 that type. " But," I meditated prosaically, " ap- 
 pearances are not to be relied upon." The thought 
 suggested the time. Doubtless it was past the hour 
 these simple-living, early risers were in the habit 
 of retiring. 
 
 " If you will show me where I am to sleep, I will 
 leave you for the night," I said. 
 
 The man rose and transferred the woman's head 
 to the chair seat for she was sitting on a low stool. 
 She did not rouse, and I marveled that in so short 
 a time she should sleep so soundly. 
 
 We crossed the living room, and the man threw 
 open a door at the farther end where a lamp burned. 
 
 " It is not much, sir," he said, " but the woman 
 'as made it ready." 
 
 " It will do very well," I responded. " By the 
 way, is your name Arms ? " 
 
 " It is not, sir." 
 
 " Then what is it ? " 
 
 The man turned from me with a start, for there 
 was a low moan from the portico. 
 
 " My name, sir," he said, " is Joseph 'Orsford. 
 Good night, sir. I would harsk that you bolt ye 're 
 door." And he was halfway back to the portico 
 before I had recovered sufficiently from the start 
 his words gave me to close myself within the room 
 that had been prepared for me.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE 
 
 " JOSEPH 'ORSFORD, sir." 
 
 *J The answer had come quietly enough, yet it 
 had fallen on my ears like the explosion of a bomb. 
 So this was the man against whom my anonymous 
 correspondent warned me ! He was a harmless ap- 
 pearing man, stolid and not clever, but not bad, 
 surely ; a type of Briton very common in and near 
 London, not always a farmer a 'bus or cab driver, 
 more likely, or, perhaps, a mechanic. 
 
 i had ceased to regard the warning as a practical 
 joke, but as I was still in the dark concerning its 
 purpose or its author for I had abandoned the 
 idea that Barney Rafferts had anything to do with 
 it I had resolved to act without reference to 
 it, except as to keeping myself alert to discover 
 whence it came. 
 
 After the first shock of surprise, therefore, I 
 threw off all thought connected with my new duties 
 and, peacefully puffing my pipe. I indulged in a 
 short series of dreams and speculations concerning 
 the girl who also had arrived in Winton that 
 evening. 
 
 Rousing from that pleasant pastime, I turned 
 into bed for a night of sound sleep as I fancied 
 at the time.
 
 40 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I was bordering on slumber, I think, when I be- 
 came conscious of a sound which brought rne sud- 
 denly into a sitting posture in the bed and put all 
 my faculties at once upon the alert. There was a 
 moment's silence, and then it came again a long, 
 low wail, followed presently by a sharp snarl, as of 
 rage. Then came a sibilation of quick whispers, 
 and, after a little, a sob, a woman's piteous sob. 
 
 Noiselessly I left my bed and crept to the window. 
 A young moon lay low on the horizon, and in the 
 light which it shed upon the earth I could distin- 
 guish dimly in the distance the shining roofs of a 
 building hidden behind the trees the villa of 
 Overlook, no doubt, where Mr. Somhers had come 
 to his untimely end. 
 
 Slowly, and careful to make no noise, I opened 
 the shutters of the window. But there was nothing 
 either human or animal in sight; the noise had 
 been within the house. Hastily I slipped on some 
 clothing and stepped to the door leading into the 
 front room, prepared to go out and learn more if 
 the sound came again. But it was not repeated, 
 and, after a time, I tiptoed back to the bed and 
 threw myself upon it dressed, prepared, however, 
 to court sleep. But none came. My mind was still 
 alert and insistent upon taking up the threads of 
 the Somhers tragedy, which I had resolutely kept 
 from dwelling upon since my arrival upon the 
 scene of its enactment. 
 
 I recalled my first acquaintance with the old 
 gentleman not old then, but in active middle life. 
 He had recently lost his wife, and his mind was so
 
 A NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE 41 
 
 full of his grief that a change of scene had become 
 imperative. I was a lad at the time, taking with my 
 parents my first trip across the ocean. Mr. Som- 
 hers and my father became interested in each other 
 as soon as they found themselves side by side upon 
 the steamer's deck. During the winter that followed 
 our return home, Mr. Somhers visited us, and for 
 many years thereafter so long as my father lived, 
 indeed, Mr. Somhers and he kept friendly tabs on 
 each other. It had been Mr. Somhers' custom to 
 spend a portion of each winter in New York, so it 
 was possible for my father and him to continue their 
 pleasant relations. 
 
 I had not seen Mr. Somhers for perhaps twelve 
 years previous to his death. My recollection of him 
 was of an alert-looking man of middle height, with 
 hair whitening about the temples, who had once 
 taken me upon his knees on the deck of an ocean 
 liner and had entertained me with tales of another 
 little boy, whose name, Mr. Somhers said, was Ro- 
 land; but Mr. Somhers told me that he had gone 
 far, far away too far for me to see him for a long 
 time. 
 
 Some years before my father's death Mr. Somhers 
 bought Overlook, and my father visited him. I re- 
 member that father spoke on his return home of the 
 orphaned nephew, younger than I, whom Mr. Som- 
 hers had taken to live with him, and I recollect that 
 he predicted that the lad, who was active and rest- 
 less and for whom Mr. Somhers had no affection, 
 would not have an easy boyhood. The next that I 
 recall hearing of Mr. Somhers was of his tragic end.
 
 42 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 The case was a particularly mysterious and com- 
 plex one, it seemed to me, but the men who were 
 assigned to investigate it reached quick conclusions, 
 and they were prepared by the end of the first week 
 to lay the responsibility for the deed, with an out- 
 wardly convincing chain of proof, at the door of 
 the nephew, Harrison Milbrath. 
 
 Detail upon detail that had not occurred to me 
 when I outlined the case to Kilbourne flashed 
 through my mind. Evidence had developed the 
 fact that Mr. Somhers and his nephew had lived 
 together under stirring conditions. With servants 
 and acquaintances in general Mr. Somhers had a 
 reputation of being amicable and benevolent, a 
 student who preferred his books to animate com- 
 panionship, but who greeted the occasional visitor 
 to Overlook with an old-world courtesy. 
 
 With Harrison Milbrath he was the reverse. He 
 made no secret of his aversion to the lad, whom 
 most people were disposed to like, and before Harry's 
 departure for college the violent quarrels in which 
 uncle and nephew engaged were town talk. 
 
 On the 12th of October following Harry's gradua- 
 tion from college, the servants in the house heard 
 unusually loud voices in Mr. Somhers' library. 
 Shortly thereafter Harrison Milbrath left the 
 house. At the luncheon hour the housemaid tapped 
 upon Mr. Somhers' door, as usual, announcing 
 lunch. Sometimes Mr. Somhers answered the sum- 
 mons, as often he did not; and it was an under- 
 stood condition in the household that the meal was 
 not to be kept for him after a given time. On this
 
 A NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE 43 
 
 day he did not lunch ; neither did Milbrath appear. 
 At six o'clock the dinner gong was sounded and 
 when the half hour had passed without the appear- 
 ance in the dining room of either Mr. Somhers or 
 the younger man the housemaid again tapped at 
 the library door. There was no answer. 
 
 She tapped again and again, and then, with a 
 curiosity that she could not resist, she cautiously 
 turned the doorknob. The door yielded to her touch, 
 and she peeped inside. The room was in darkness, 
 but the light from the entry streamed in through 
 the open door and fell directly upon the figure of 
 Mr. Somhers recumbent upon the couch. There was 
 nothing unusual in his attitude, so far as the girl 
 could describe, but with a prescience of calamity 
 she fled screaming to the kitchen. She declared that 
 Mr. Somhers was dead, and continued to scream 
 until she fainted. 
 
 The stableman, who was eating his evening meal 
 in the kitchen at the moment, acceding to the clamor 
 of the cook, went reluctantly to the library, declar- 
 ing that Mr. Somhers was probably only asleep and 
 that he would lose his job for his interference. What 
 he saw turned him cold with horror and well, 
 half an hour later all Winton knew that the esti- 
 mable Peter Somhers had met a tragic end. 
 
 He lay upon his back on the couch, his hands and 
 feet hanging over it, a gash upon his left temple and 
 eye. Life had been extinct, physicians said, fully 
 two hours. The curious fact that I had mentioned 
 to Kilbourne of the absence of blood stains, except 
 on the body and clothes of the victim, had not been
 
 44 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 dwelt upon sufficiently, it seemed to me. From the 
 nature of the wound it must have bled freely. Had 
 the assassin stopped, then, after his terrible deed, 
 to staunch the flow of life-blood ? It seemed so, and 
 he must have taken away with him the cloth or 
 sponge used for that purpose. And the oilcloth! 
 From where had that come, that no one recognized 
 it? 
 
 On the morning following, Harrison Milbrath, 
 white and hollow-eyed, returned to Winton on the 
 southbound train. He had been in Boston he said, 
 from four o'clock on the previous afternoon, until 
 that morning when, on reading the shocking news 
 of his uncle's death, he had hurried back. 
 
 When he came to trial, the prosecution made out 
 a different situation. He had quarreled with his 
 uncle in the morning, it asserted, and had left the 
 house a little later, looking pale and fierce. He had 
 eaten dinner at noon at the village hotel, after 
 which he walked back to Overlook, entered the 
 house quietly by means of his latchkey and attacked 
 his uncle with murderous intent. He had paused 
 to staunch the flow of blood and to move his victim 
 to the couch, or, possibly, he had killed him as he 
 slept. Then he slipped through the library win- 
 dow found unlocked, or boldly left by the front 
 door which locked behind him. Then the prose- 
 cution produced the conductor of the five o'clock 
 train from Beverly to Boston, who swore that Mil- 
 brath had been a passenger on his train on October 
 12th. 
 
 Milbrath's defense denied this. He had started
 
 A NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE 45 
 
 for Boston at one-thirty. Unfortunately, however, 
 the conductor of the one-thirty train could not recall 
 his passengers of that day sufficiently well to verify 
 this assertion. Milbrath was fairly well known 
 among the trainmen on the Boston trains, for, 
 being a Harvard man, he had been a frequent 
 patron of the road that passed through Beverly. 
 But as misfortune would have it, the men in charge 
 of both afternoon trains on October 12th were com- 
 parative strangers to that section. 
 
 The defense did not, however, deny that there 
 had been an unusually stormy scene between uncle 
 and nephew on the morning preceding the tragedy, 
 nor did it challenge the state's evidence that Mil- 
 brath dined at the village hostelry and later re- 
 turned to Overlook. But it averred that the de- 
 fendant had not seen his uncle after the morning's 
 disagreement. He returned for his suitcase, which 
 was packed to be taken away, for he had previously 
 planned a trip to Boston that day. He entered the 
 house, not by means of his latchkey, but through a 
 side door which he tried and found unlocked 
 notwithstanding the testimony of the maids that 
 this door and all other outside doors were locked 
 that day. He went directly to his room on the 
 second floor where he remained for ten minutes, 
 and then went out of the house and walked through 
 the woods to the Beverly station. 
 
 At the second trial, six months later, the state 
 and the defense offered practically the same evi- 
 dence, but this time Harrison Milbrath proved an 
 alibi on the day of the murder.
 
 46 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 To the astonishment of every one, it seemed, an 
 elderly gentleman of unquestionable reliability (I 
 recalled definitely at that moment that it was a 
 clergyman) testified that he met Harrison Milbrath 
 at the Park Square station in Boston at four o'clock 
 on the afternoon of October 12th, and that Mil- 
 brath and he were together until late in the even- 
 ing. He maintained this assertion through a rapid 
 fire of cross-examination, but with good-humored 
 wit parried every question that would lead him into 
 a quagmire of explanation. It was no one's affair, 
 he informed the state, why Mr. Milbrath and he 
 were together that day. It should be sufficient that 
 the three witnesses who corroborated his testimony 
 were reliable persons. 
 
 Step by step my memory carried me back over 
 the details of the case ; even the names of many of 
 the witnesses, with the mental pictures that I had 
 formed of their appearance, came back to me viv- 
 idly. Suddenly out from all the others stood one 
 name, that of the housemaid who found Mr. Som- 
 hers' body on the couch, who had been so badly 
 overcome, who, also, had been the state's chief wit- 
 ness in the matter of the family jars, and who had 
 sworn that all outside doors were" locked at Overlook 
 on that eventful afternoon of October 12th Mag- 
 gie Arms!
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PLACE OF SILENCE 
 
 ~\TOT WITHSTANDING my involved introspec- 
 -^ tion, I must have fallen asleep quickly and 
 rested well, for the next sound of which I was con- 
 scious was a baby's voice cooing happily, and a 
 man's full bass essaying to still it with a frequent 
 low "tut! tut!" 
 
 I looked at my watch. It was half past six, and 
 the sunlight lay in yellow shafts on the grass be- 
 tween the trees outside my window. 
 
 I dressed hastily and went into the living room. 
 As I did so, Mr. Horsford came from the kitchen 
 with the child, still cooing and sputtering, in his 
 arms. 
 
 " A bright bit o' day we are 'avin', sir," he said, 
 after the usual exchange of greetings. " I 'ope you 
 rested well, sir ? " He looked at me steadily, his 
 eyes narrowing as he uttered the last words. He 
 appeared relieved when I assured him that I re- 
 membered nothing from the moment I fell asleep 
 until six-thirty. 
 
 That ended our conversation for the time, for 
 Horsford seemed as uncommunicative as on the 
 previous evening. His wife, too, appeared to have 
 sobered down considerably and was almost as taci- 
 turn as her husband.
 
 48 THE SXARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 She served my breakfast on the round table in 
 the front room, where she had given me supper, and 
 I observed that the high color I had noted in the 
 evening was somewhat dimmed, and that shadows 
 of purple lay beneath her eyes, the lids of which 
 she persistently kept lowered. Horsford kept the 
 child by him, and when I had done with the meal 
 he put the boy in a tiny playground fenced in with 
 tennis wire which he had constructed within view 
 of the kitchen windows, and came to the portico, a 
 string of keys dangling in his hand. 
 
 " 'Appen you will want to 'ave a look at Hover- 
 look, sir," he said. " If you would wish, sir, I 
 can go yonder wi' you before I go again t' the 
 field." 
 
 I should have preferred to sit on the portico while 
 I smoked a cigar and, perchance, get a few words 
 with Mrs. Horsford. I was keenly curious to know 
 the meaning of those sounds of the night before, 
 and if any one in that household were likely to help 
 me to the facts it was that good housewife herself 
 with her loquacious tongue. I did not like the at- 
 mosphere of mystery at the cottage, and, taken in 
 connection with the revelation which the name of 
 the housemaid had brought me, I could but con- 
 jecture that the Arms family knew more about Mr. 
 Somhers' death than had been developed at the time 
 of Mr. Milbrath's trials, that the Horsfords were in 
 possession of the facts, and that Horsford intimi- 
 dated his wife lest her voluble speech get them into 
 trouble. These, however, were but conjectures, and 
 as I had no plausible excuse to decline Hereford's
 
 THE PLACE OF SILENCE 49 
 
 offer I proceeded at once with him up the gravel 
 road. 
 
 This road was, in fact, a beautiful drive lined 
 with elm trees, and it led directly to the rear of the 
 villa, a quarter of a mile distant. 
 
 On the right of the drive lay a hollow of green 
 pasture lands, with grain fields and garden rising 
 beyond. On the left, a miniature forest ran into 
 the triangle of woods of which I have already 
 spoken. 
 
 Near the cottage we passed a grain house and a 
 barn for farming implements; beyond were the 
 stables and ice house, and back of the villa I caught 
 a glimpse of a long, low hothouse, then in disuse, 
 and a stretch of sunken gardens, which in Mr. Som- 
 hers' time had been gay with flowers, but which then 
 were plantless and grass-grown. The fountain, too, 
 with its gilded Mercury, was silent and dry. I was 
 surprised that the grounds were so green and well 
 kept, but Horsford explained that it was Mr. Mil- 
 brath's order that the place, which had been his 
 uncle's pride, should not become weed-clogged. 
 Here and there among the trees a bit of statuary 
 gleamed, and ahead the waters of the bay shim- 
 mered and danced in the morning sunshine. 
 
 The villa stood upon a bluff, and from its front 
 door a) serpentine driveway wound and twisted 
 among grassed terraces to the iron entrance gates, 
 thirty feet or more below. The building itself was 
 of gray stone, blackened with age, on which wood- 
 bine everywhere crawled and twined. The main 
 structure was square with two wide porticos, one 
 
 4
 
 50 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 above the other, on the front. From either side a 
 one-story addition stretched out like wings. 
 
 Horsford maintained a stolid silence, broken only 
 by laconic answers to my occasional queries, as we 
 traversed the distance between the cottage and the 
 house. If he was curious as to how I purposed to 
 live with the help of only one man in this big, 
 lonely old house, he did not betray it. 
 
 At the portico he paused. 
 
 " If you are wantin' 'elp to straighten things hout 
 a bit," he said, " my wife could get you someun to 
 do it. It may seem 'er place, sir, to hoffer to 'elp, 
 but she 'as such an 'orror of the 'ouse I 'm afraid 
 I should 'ave 'ard work to make 'er come up, sir." 
 
 To have Mrs. Horsford, or any one, clean Over- 
 look before I had an opportunity to go over it care- 
 fully was the last thing for which I wished. 
 
 " Do not try," I answered. " My man, Gaspard, 
 will be here on the evening train, and he will do all 
 that needs to be done. I intend to live simply, and 
 shall try to make the most of the good fishing I am 
 told is a feature here." 
 
 Horsford looked at me steadily, the same sus- 
 picious expression I had noted the evening before 
 coming into his eyes. 
 
 " Ho ! " he said, quite involuntarily it seemed. 
 " I s'pposed, sir, you were another of the men Mr. 
 Milbrath seems to 'ave workin' on the mystery." 
 
 " Are there men still at work on the mystery ? " 
 I asked, with an appearance of interest. 
 
 " 'Appen there are, sir," hesitatingly. 
 
 "Indeed! I certainly hope that Mr. Milbrath
 
 THE PLACE OF SILENCE 51 
 
 will not send any more at least while I am here. 
 I hardly think I should enjoy being spied upon. 
 Did you ? " 
 
 Horsford's burned skin assumed a redder hue. 
 
 " I canno' say I did, sir." And he added hastily: 
 " But of course it were not me they cared about, 
 sir." 
 
 " Of course not. On the contrary, I should sup- 
 pose that you might be of considerable assistance to 
 them. You were in Winton at the time of the trag- 
 edy, were you not ? " 
 
 " Not 'ere, sir. Beverly." 
 
 " Ah ! Not so far away but that you heard what 
 the townspeople had to say of the case. Perhaps 
 you will not mind telling me something about it. 
 Once I was a newspaper man, and I still like a good 
 story. Besides, I think I should like to know how 
 things are supposed to have happened in this house 
 in which I am to spend the remainder of the 
 summer." 
 
 Horsford's expression implied that he believed 
 only half of what I was saying. 
 
 " I do no' know much abou' hit, sir, save that the 
 old gentleman were knocked down or 'it on the 'ead 
 an' were dead when 'e were found, an' that young 
 Mr. Milbrath, who was Is newy, as 'appen you know, 
 sir, was said to 'ave done it." 
 
 " Do you believe that he did it ? " I asked 
 quickly. 
 
 Horsford hesitated. 
 
 " I do no', sir, but 'e seemed to be the only one 
 they could find. Aye, sir, this is a 'aunted place
 
 52 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 now an' I would no' like to 'ave anyun stay 'ere 
 long." 
 
 " It begins to look as if I should have something 
 besides the fish and the boating to interest me ! The 
 place is haunted, you say ? By a real ghost ? " 
 
 Horsford did not appear to appreciate my levity. 
 
 " It it not the ghost only, sir," he said soberly. 
 " It is the feelin' wot 'angs o'er everything up 'ere. 
 'Appen it came to you after you passed the stable, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I cannot truthfully say that it did ; but then, 
 I 'm not given to nerves. Did not the detectives 
 you spoke of stop here ? " 
 
 " Not over night, sir. Never ! They put up at 
 the Winton 'Ouse." 
 
 I took the keys from Horsford's hand, and opened 
 the door with the one he indicated. 
 
 " Welcome to Overlook, Elmer Bliss," I said 
 cheerfully to myself, as I stepped inside. " And 
 may good luck attend your efforts ! " I added 
 mentally. 
 
 Horsford, none too willingly, followed me and 
 helped me throw up the shades and the windows 
 and open the blinds. The rooms were cheerfully 
 and handsomely furnished, and with the sunlight 
 flooding them, they did not look as if they had been 
 closed for nearly two years upon an unexplained 
 tragedy. 
 
 Everything was covered with dust, of course, but 
 Horsford told me he believed everything to have 
 been left as it stood upon the day of the murder. 
 The two women servants had abandoned the house
 
 THE PLACE OF SILENCE 53 
 
 upon the day of Mr. Milbrath's arrest, and the 
 stablemen and gardeners, who had their own quar- 
 ters, had taken their meals at the cottage until their 
 dismissal by the executors of the estate some time 
 later. Therefore, from the week following Mr. 
 Somhers' death until this morning, Overlook had 
 been a deserted house, a " place of silence " indeed, 
 except for the occasional visit of an investigator of 
 crime. 
 
 A wide hall with a staircase at the rear ran 
 through the house. At the foot of the stairs was a 
 door leading into a small entry and thence to the 
 side porch, and was the door by which Mr. Milbrath 
 affirmed that he entered and left the house when he 
 returned for his suitcase on the day of the tragedy. 
 On the right of the hall were a dining room and 
 kitchen, with a billiard room leading from the 
 dining room into the north extension. On the left 
 were two parlors; the extension room, separated 
 from the parlors by a narrow entry which likewise 
 opened onto a small portico, had been Mr. Somhers' 
 library, and was the room where the housemaid, 
 Maggie Arms, was the first to see the master of 
 Overlook lying dead. 
 
 The second floor contained sleeping rooms; the 
 third floor a large storeroom in which were ranged 
 boxes and trunks and discarded pieces of furniture, 
 and a sleeping room which had been occupied by the 
 two women servants. 
 
 Upon the threshold of the library Horsford 
 hesitated. 
 
 " I do no' like this place, sir," he said, with a
 
 54 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 visible shudder. " I would to God you would no' 
 think of remainin' in it. It is a place of mysteries, 
 an' you would be far more comfortable in the 
 village." 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 " Tut, Horsf ord ! Such nonsense from an able- 
 bodied man like you! A beautiful place like this 
 should not be permitted to go to ruin in disuse, and 
 I mean to enjoy myself here free from old-womanish 
 fancies. Come, give me a hand with this window, 
 will you ? " 
 
 The deep red appeared again beneath the burn in 
 Horsford's face, but he said no more and did as I 
 asked. 
 
 When we had gone through the house, looking 
 into each room and closet, I dismissed Horsford. 
 
 " I shall be obliged if Mrs. Horsford can let me 
 have dinner with you," I said. " After that I hope 
 to have Gaspard with me and shall trouble you only 
 for cream and eggs and the fresh things from the 
 garden, which, doubtless, you can supply." 
 
 Horsford nodded. 
 
 " Aye, sir. Good day, sir," he said, and was off, 
 heartily glad, apparently, to get away. 
 
 I watched him for a moment going at a quick 
 pace across the lawn, and then I looked off upon 
 the panorama that stretched before my eyes as I 
 stood upon the portico. 
 
 Ahead lay the village of Winton, a row of 
 straight, strong trees marking the line of the main 
 street as it wandered out to the lighthouse that stood 
 white and solitary on the point. To one side lay
 
 THE PLACE OF SILENCE 55 
 
 the bay and the spires and glistening roofs of Bev- 
 erly. Beyond the lighthouse the bay widened into 
 the ocean, and I could see the surf pounding un- 
 ceasingly upon the stony shore at the foot of the 
 marshlands beyond the Winton station. 
 
 Such a bit of scenery, bright with the sun of a 
 glorious day, should have acted like champagne 
 upon my spirits. Instead, a sense of hopelessness 
 swept over me as I turned back to the house. It 
 was the first feeling of discouragement to which I 
 had yielded, and so strong was the remnant of su- 
 perstition in me that for the moment I could but 
 believe that it was a forerunner of impending dis- 
 appointment. The next instant I shook myself, and 
 resolutely turned to the library, determined to begin 
 my work with a cheerful mind. 
 
 I paused at the entrance to the room and made a 
 careful survey of it. It was an unusually large 
 apartment, being fully twenty-five feet wide by 
 thirty feet long. The two windows, which faced the 
 west, were about eight feet apart, and between them 
 was placed a roll-top desk in oak. A swivel chair 
 with arms stood before it. 
 
 On the south wall was an open fireplace with a 
 black marble mantel above it ; and near by stood a 
 leather reading-chair with a padded head-roll. 
 There was but one other chair in the room, straight- 
 backed, rush-bottomed and of Colonial appearance 
 an heirloom, probably. 
 
 Everywhere were books in cases built into the 
 wall. Every inch of available wall space was taken, 
 from an inch above the floor to the height of five
 
 56 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 feet. On the walls above hung a few good pictures, 
 but all of subjects that testified to Mr. Somhers' 
 erratic taste. Dante's " Inferno " was one of them ; 
 two others were reproductions of Sir Noel Paton's 
 " Quarrel of Oberon and Titania " and " Reconcili- 
 ation of Oberon and Titania." At a later period, 
 Milbrath told me that for many years a picture of 
 Mr. Somhers' only child, Roland, who had died at 
 the age of seven, had hung between the windows 
 above the desk, but long ago that had given place to 
 the picture of Nero standing upon an eminence and 
 watching with a triumphant and demoniacal smile 
 the burning of distant Rome. 
 
 The couch upon which Mr. Somhers' body was 
 found stretched across the southwest corner of the 
 room before bookcases. Like the reading-chair it 
 was upholstered in black leather. A valuable tiger- 
 skin rug lay before the fireplace, and in the centre 
 of the room under the chandelier was an oblong 
 table with piles of papers and magazines. 
 
 This table was the first object upon which my 
 gaze rested after opening up the room, but now as 
 I glanced at it I perceived something which surely 
 had not been there at that time. It was a sheet of 
 foolscap paper, and as I approached it, I read easily 
 the bold, upright, printed letters : 
 
 " Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, 
 He who ventures here were better dead. 
 Have a care 1 "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE UNSOCIABLE ME. ASMS 
 
 F TOOK the paper in my hands and examined it 
 *- closely. The printing had been done with a 
 writing fluid and very recently, for the ink, which 
 in time would be black, was still blue. It had been 
 done hastily, too, or by a person laboring under in- 
 tense excitement, for the lettering was irregular. 
 The paper was a half sheet of ordinary lined fools- 
 cap, a trifle ragged on the edge which had been cut. 
 
 My first act was to drop to the floor, careful not 
 to obliterate any possible footprints. 
 
 The rug which covered the greater portion of the 
 room had a background of straw color, and while 
 dusty, showed little tracking. On the south side of 
 the room it reached to the tiling before the fireplace ; 
 on the other three sides there was a border three 
 feet wide, perhaps, between it and the bookcases or 
 the door and windows, of a light-colored hardwood. 
 From the door to the nearer window the prints of 
 two pairs of shoes crossing and recrossing were un- 
 mistakably mine and Horsford's. My prints, that 
 tracked towards the farther window, crossed the 
 room diagonally and ran directly from the doorway 
 to the table, I also found. But before the farther 
 window, on the corresponding side of the table, and, 
 indeed, at intervals throughout the southern end of 
 the room from east to west the dust was swept aside
 
 in wide swaths. Obviously this had been done to 
 cover the tracks of the intruder, and it showed me 
 that I had a farseeing rascal with whom to deal. 
 
 I could not doubt that he had entered by the 
 farther window which, by the way, was the very 
 one by which the assassin of Mr. Somhers was be- 
 lieved to have left had put the warning upon the 
 table, and had retreated by the same route, brushing 
 vigorously the spots where he had trod. From the 
 width of the marks it was evident that they had 
 been made with a small brush like a whisk-broom. 
 But why did my mysterious stranger use his brush 
 beyond the line of the table and the fireplace, even 
 to the southeast corner ? Ah ! A book was missing 
 from the second shelf in the southeast corner! 
 
 In vain I searched for a footprint that the brush 
 had overlooked. Not one remained. The bookshelf, 
 even, gave me no assistance, except to show that the 
 missing volume was one of a set of Byron's poems. 
 Now, would Horsford take away a volume of 
 Byron ? Improbable, unless he were a cleverer man 
 than I gave him credit for being, or unless he were 
 acting under the instruction of a deep brain. In- 
 deed, before I had fully analyzed the situation I 
 had reached the conclusion that if Horsford had 
 entered the room while I was standing upon the 
 portico fancying him still hurrying fieldward, he 
 was but the instrument of a cleverer man than 
 himself. 
 
 The door leading from the entry to the tiny por- 
 tico held back reluctantly when I tried to open it, 
 and creaked with the stiffness of unused hinges
 
 THE UNSOCIABLE MR. ARMS 59 
 
 when at last I succeeded. The window through 
 which my warner must have entered was but a step 
 from this portico, and though I examined the ground 
 and grass about it I could find no indication that 
 they had been recently trodden upon, a curious con- 
 dition, as the window sill stood a full four feet 
 above the ground, and the intruder must have come 
 down with some emphasis. 
 
 With an uncomfortable sense of being worsted, 
 I returned to the library and closed and locked the 
 windows and drew the shades. Then I closed and 
 fastened the other windows which I had so recently 
 opened throughout the first floor, and I saw that all 
 doors were locked behind me as I left the house. I 
 would see that screens were put in place before I 
 left the windows open again. A locked screen does 
 not prevent admission, but it is likely to bear some 
 trace if tampered with. 
 
 I looked at my watch and found that it was only 
 nine o'clock and there was yet time to call upon Mr. 
 Arms before the noon hour. From the portico of 
 the villa I could see the white house with its green 
 shutters, which Horsford had said was Mr. Arms'. 
 Near the house, I soon found, the road took a turn 
 to the right and ran on and into the main street of 
 Beverly. 
 
 The house looked asleep as I approached it half 
 an hour later. The shutters were drawn and the 
 front and side doors were closed. No sound, save 
 the clucking of hens, disturbed the silence. Then 
 there floated out upon the air a woman's fresh 
 young voice : " Bonnie sweet Bessie, the maid of
 
 60 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Dundee," she sang and stopped, for my knock upon 
 the old-fashioned brass knocker resounded through 
 the house. 
 
 Silence prevailed again, and again I applied the 
 knocker. This time I caught a glimpse of a pink 
 and white face through a shutter cautiously turned 
 in a window close by, and directly the door was 
 opened slowly. A young woman stood before me 
 the one whose song I had heard and whose cheek I 
 had seen I did not doubt; but there was a curi- 
 ous, startled expression in her eyes that I could 
 not understand. 
 
 " I should like to speak with Mr. Arms," I said. 
 
 " He has gone into town, sir," the startled ex- 
 pression deepening in her eyes. 
 
 " Will he return soon ? " 
 
 " That, sir, I cannot say. Sometimes it is noon 
 before before the truck is sold." 
 
 " Then I will sit here on the steps for a while. 
 He may come while I wait. I have walked from 
 Overlook and this shade is pleasant." 
 
 " As you like, sir. If you would prefer to come 
 inside, I will call mother." 
 
 I stepped in through a narrow hall, from which 
 a pair of steep stairs climbed directly to the second 
 floor, and into a darkened room, the door of which 
 the girl threw open for me, and which proved to be 
 a typical New England country parlor. Almost 
 before my eyes had grown accustomed to the dim 
 light the girl was back, and with her a stout and 
 spirited looking elderly woman whom she said was 
 " Ma."
 
 THE UNSOCIABLE ME. AKMS 61 
 
 " It is my son you would wish to see, sir ? " asked 
 Mrs. Arms. 
 
 " Your husband, is he not ? " I responded. " Un- 
 til recently the farmer at Overlook ? " 
 
 Mrs. Arms laughed heartily, in a comfortable 
 way that set her cap bows nodding. 
 
 "My 'usband? Ho, no, sir. My 'usband 'as 
 been dead these five and twenty year. 'T is my son 
 Jim who 'ad the farm at Hoverlook." 
 
 Here was another surprise for me, for I had 
 pictured Mr. Arms as elderly as the woman before 
 me appeared to be. 
 
 " You come from Hoverlook, did you tell Mag- 
 gie ? " asked Mrs. Arms. 
 
 " Yes, I am the new tenant." 
 
 " Well," she observed, " there be all sorts of folk 
 in the wu-rrld, nor it would no' be the wu-rrld, I 'm 
 thinkin', but why anyun should fancy Hoverlook 
 now is beyondt me. When I were in the Duke o' 
 Castlecourt's dairy afore I were married I 'eard 
 enough about ghosts, I did indeed, sir for the 
 place were 'aunted to last me all my life, an' 
 I 've been glad to keep away from places wi' bad 
 names since then. I were glad, indeed, when Jim 
 got away from Hoverlook. An' I 'm thinkin' ye '11 
 be glad to go afore a great time, sir. 'Ave ye ne'er 
 'eard tha' the restless speerets o' the dead return t' 
 'aunt the places where they died ? " 
 
 " Not that, but I have heard it said that the man 
 who murders cannot resist the temptation to return 
 to the scene of his crime." 
 
 A short gasp startled my half-facetious answer,
 
 62 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 and I turned quickly in the direction of the girl. 
 She sat with her large black eyes wide upon me and 
 the color coming and going in her face in waves. 
 
 " Maggie, go hout of the room," commanded Mrs. 
 Arms, as though the girl were a child. " She 's 
 that narvous since the oP man was killed that she 
 hacts 's if she did it 'erself, she does, indeed, sir," 
 Mrs. Arms explained, turning to me with a trace 
 of impatience in her voice. 
 
 Maggie left the room without a word, but her 
 face was no longer pale, and I felt constrained to 
 remark : 
 
 " I fear I am to blame for having lingered 
 over so gruesome a subject as Mr. Somhers' death. 
 Naturally it affected your family very closely." 
 
 " Well, as to that, I s'ppose it did," Mrs. Arms 
 answered reflectively. " But lor' ! 't were a good 
 thing fur us all round, though ye must no' mistake 
 that I were glad it 'appened; far from that. 'E 
 were a fine old man, were Mr. Somhers, sir, but 'e 
 'eld a tight rein an' Jim must caper lively to 'is bid." 
 
 " And your daughter. She was employed in the 
 house, was she not ? " 
 
 Mrs. Arms nodded. 
 
 " Aye, sir. 'T were her as saw the old man first, 
 an' she 's never been 'er old sel' sin'." She looked 
 at me sharply. " Is it true, sir, as my newy Joe 
 'Orsford said to Maggie this mornin' that you are 
 a detective ? " 
 
 " I am the new tenant of Overlook," I answered. 
 " The boy who drove me up last night told me that 
 I should be mistaken for a detective."
 
 THE UNSOCIABLE ME. ARMS 63 
 
 Mrs. Arms' eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Then Joeie were wrong again. Not as I cared 
 if ye were one or not, for we 'ad nothing to do 
 with the old master's death, though ye 'd think as 
 Maggie 'ad from the way she gets the ague when 
 ye speak o' murder. She never were like any other 
 gaerl I ever knew sort o' notional, she is, an' full 
 o' dreams an' fancies. I s'ppose ye came from a 
 city?" 
 
 " Erom New York." 
 
 " N' York. I were there once when we come to 
 America, Jamie an' Maggie an' me. I thought ye 
 
 werna a country chap Hark ! Wot were that ? 
 
 I do b'lieve t' were my Jamie comin' back." 
 
 She raised a shade and peered through the 
 closed blinds. 
 
 " Aye ; that 's 'im a 'andsome lad, now, is na 
 'im, my Jim ? " She laughed. " Not as 'e 's so 
 much nor a lad no more, 'ither." 
 
 I followed the direction of the old woman's gaze, 
 and caught a glimpse between the trees of a gray 
 horse and a brown one wending their way down the 
 road before an open wagon bearing a man of un- 
 certain age. He was a surly-faced, dark-browed 
 fellow I could see, even at that distance. To the 
 mother's eyes, however, he was still her " 'andsome 
 lad ! " I wondered what Maggie, of the apprehensive 
 eyes and apple cheeks, thought about this brother. 
 Did she know, or suspect, the truth about Mr. Som- 
 hers' death ? Did she, perhaps, believe Jim impli- 
 cated, or was it only, as the mother appeared to 
 believe, the shock of the crime that made it impossi- 
 ble for her to listen quietly to the subject?
 
 64: THE SXAEE OF CIKCUMSTAXCE 
 
 She was hurrying out to the road at the moment, 
 and met her brother at the entrance. That she 
 spoke to him of my arrival I could not doubt, for, 
 with a sharp turn of his head, he glanced toward 
 the closed shutters behind which I stood. I saw his 
 wide shoulders move in a derisive shrug; then he 
 dismounted and, handing the reins to the girl, 
 walked slowly to the house. 
 
 " Now, that was a funny thing fur Maggie t' 
 do," meditated Mrs. Arms aloud, and she echoed 
 my thoughts. " 'T is no' as 'f she were fond o' 
 takin' the 'orses, as now an' again she 'as to." 
 
 And she added in her odd mixture of Cockney 
 and Lancashire dialects, as she regarded me with 
 twinkling eyes: 
 
 " 'Appen she 's a-thinkin' ye 're such a fine young 
 man Jim 'd be a-wantin' to tidy hup a bit afore 'e 
 come in t' ye." 
 
 But it was hardly probable that such was the 
 girl's intention in meeting her brother, for he did 
 not visit the pump or any other remote spot before 
 he appeared before us. 
 
 " Ye wan' t' see me ? " he asked abruptly, look- 
 ing at me with unfriendly eyes beneath a pair of 
 sinister brows. " Wot is it ye 'd 'ave o' me, sir ? " 
 
 I handed to him Mr. Milbrath's note, which 
 Horsford had returned. He read it through with- 
 out a change of expression, and gave it back to me. 
 
 " It is fur my cousin, Joseph 'Orsford," he said. 
 
 " So I discovered upon my arrival last evening, 
 but as you were so long a part of Overlook I 
 have taken the first opportunity to make your 
 acquaintance."
 
 THE UNSOCIABLE MR. ARMS 65 
 
 This remark elicited no response from Arms, and 
 his manner implied that an acquaintance with me 
 was neither solicited nor desired. I perceived that 
 I had made a mistake in hurrying the matter, 
 and regretted that I had not waited until later, 
 then to approach him in the attitude of master 
 toward servant, an attitude more nearly within the 
 limits of his comprehension, probably. 
 
 I stared at him in grim silence, determined that 
 he should respond in some way to my remark. We 
 stood there facing each other with suppressed alert- 
 ness. Mrs. Arms was grave and anxious, longing 
 for concession on the part of her son, not daring to 
 suggest it, and, withal, it seemed to me, somewhat 
 puzzled by his attitude. 
 
 After an awkward silence he spoke: 
 
 " When I said good-by to Hoverlook I did n't 
 expect to 'ave to 'ave anything more to do with it," 
 he said ungraciously. 
 
 " Which means that you would prefer to have 
 nothing to do with me ? " I interrogated, with a 
 smile. " In that case I will bid you good day, 
 Mr. Arms." 
 
 The man threw me a swift glance, half suspicion, 
 half question. It seemed as if with it he also half 
 relented. 
 
 " Good day, sir," he answered civilly. " Perhaps 
 hif you come again another week, when work is 
 light, I '11 'ave a bit o' time to talk with you." 
 
 Mrs. Arms followed me to the door. 
 
 " You must n't mind Jim," she said in a dis- 
 tressed voice which harbored a puzzled note, " I 
 
 5 '
 
 66 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 don't see what 's the matter, sir. It his not like 
 this that 'e his usually. Come again, sir. Do 
 come. 'E '11 be all right another time, I '11 make 
 sure. Next week the gooseberry wine '11 be good. 
 Come and try a bit, will you, sir ? " 
 
 I reassured her with a promise, and, looking back 
 at the turn in the road where the land lay higher, I 
 saw that she still watched me. 
 
 A little farther on I paused in the shade of some 
 trees. A breeze touched the land at that point, and 
 I threw myself upon the ground, which was still 
 cool. The Arms cottage was hidden from my view, 
 but I could see the stable with its open door before 
 which Arms was lazily unhitching. As I watched 
 him, pondering on the meaning of his manner 
 towards me, I saw Maggie come from the direction 
 of the house. In her hand was a large straw hat, 
 such as men wear who work in the field. She 
 paused for an instant, as if in conversation with her 
 brother, and then moved on, but slowly as if un- 
 willingly, toward a small but dense grove beyond 
 the place. 
 
 She was lost to my view for, perhaps, five minutes, 
 and when she returned there was a man with her. 
 I was too far away to get much idea of his 
 appearance, but his carriage gave me the impression 
 that he was a man near middle life, and one who 
 would be well-dressed. He wore the hat which 
 Maggie had taken out, and it completely hid his 
 face from me.
 
 CHAPTER VHI 
 
 ALMOST A HERO 
 
 noon meal was again served, in deference 
 -*- to me, I suppose, in the front room; but this 
 time the square table was brought in from the 
 kitchen and I dined with the family. 
 
 Mrs. Horsford was still silent, and her eyelids 
 were red and swollen as if from recent weeping. 
 Her husband had charge of the child, and I won- 
 dered whether it were his habit to care for it always 
 when in the house. He looked grim, and barely 
 spoke during the meal. To my remark that I had 
 called at the Arms cottage, he merely looked at me 
 and uttered a conclusive " Aye." 
 
 When we had finished, I followed him to the 
 grain house, and by dint of many questions 
 succeeded in learning the names and accredited 
 characteristics of the postmaster, the banker, the 
 physician, and the chief merchant of the town, 
 whose assistance I thought it possible I might have 
 occasion to seek. I also arranged with Horsford 
 for the use of two horses and a man to care for 
 them, and then proceeded to make myself acquainted 
 with the grounds and environs of Overlook. 
 
 I found that starting from the sunken gardens 
 to the northwest of the house a gravel path bordered 
 the edge of the bluff and joined the twisting drive 
 to the main entrance gates on the one hand, and
 
 68 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 on the other followed in and out among the trees 
 that grew on the bank that sloped at this point to 
 the water's edge. 
 
 Down there, on a pier that ran well out into the 
 water, I found a boathouse, and one of the keys in 
 the bunch that Horsford had given me fitted the 
 lock in the door. 
 
 There were three rowboats inside, two of them 
 dry and sprung from disuse, but one still gay with 
 green and red paint and apparently seaworthy. 
 On a wide shelf that outlined three sides of the 
 room were fishing tackle, hooks, pails, et cetera; 
 and near the middle of each side of the house was 
 a window in the shape of a large porthole. 
 
 In my progress of inspection I had reached one 
 of these windows, and as I glanced out idly my 
 gaze was transfixed by an unexpected picture before 
 me. 
 
 A hundred feet, or thereabouts, beyond the 
 Overlook pier stretched another pier, likewise bear- 
 ing a boathouse ; and between the two lay a bit of 
 sandy beach on which at that moment the rising 
 tide was sending foam-capped waves. 
 
 Along this beach ran a young girl, clothed in 
 white, with a white sunbonnet, and her dress was 
 gathered to her knees above the whitest, roundest, 
 daintiest ankles and calves that were ever, perhaps, 
 bestowed upon mortal. Now and then she paused 
 to dig a small pink toe into the sands, or to dare an 
 incoming wave to break upon the polished marble 
 of her ankle, screaming with lusty glee when it did 
 so, and running on again out of reach of the next
 
 ALMOST A HEKO 69 
 
 encroacher. Once she turned a little, and I caught 
 a glimpse of a pink and white face framed in the 
 floating gold of her hair as the breeze caught the 
 loosened tresses and blew them out 
 
 I thought of the attractive girl on the train, and 
 at once began to trace a resemblance between her 
 and the wisp of humanity on the sands. Both had 
 hair like captured sunbeams, and upon both had 
 Nature bestowed her rare kiss of perfect coloring. 
 What more likely than that they were sisters? I 
 hoped they were, for already I had registered a 
 vow that if she were stopping for long in Winton 
 I would make the acquaintance of my High Priestess 
 of Travel, and to have this pretty little one a mem- 
 ber of the same family would simplify matters for 
 me tremendously. I had only to ascertain to whom 
 the neighboring pier belonged, secure a card from 
 some responsible source from Mr. McClure, per- 
 haps, when I came to know him and lo! I 
 should have the privilege of looking again, and per- 
 haps often, into a fair face, the expression of which 
 continued to haunt my waking thoughts. 
 
 I watched the child as she ran lightly up the 
 steps that led to the pier beyond me and disappeared 
 within the boathouse. Then I turned away from 
 my porthole with a feeling that she alone was worth 
 the trouble of an introduction. To a lonely bache- 
 lor, destined to at least a month of solitary work in 
 a doubtless uncongenial territory, the thought of 
 feminine graces and a soft feminine voice, if em- 
 bodied in only a child, is capable of inducing a 
 thrill of pleasure.
 
 70 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Her sunny hair and piquant profile reminded me 
 of my cousin Nan; and if ever a maid of twelve 
 possessed the gift of keeping the lives of those 
 about her free from ennui, it was Nan. I laughed 
 aloud with a recollection of some of the pranks of 
 that pleasing miscreant, and the door, which at 
 first withstood my insistent pressure, yielded at 
 that instant with a suddenness that sent the sound 
 of my amusement ringing in the outside air. 
 
 The first object that caught my attention as I 
 stepped without, was the girl with the white sun- 
 bonnet. Doubtless she had gone through the other 
 boathouse, for there she sat on the end of the pier, 
 dangling her feet blissfully above the frolicsome 
 waters, and again inviting the waves that broke in 
 a foam against the piles beneath the pier to wet 
 her if they dared. 
 
 One glimpse I caught of wildly waving pink 
 toes and tapering ankles as their possessor tried 
 vainly to cover them, after a startled glance toward 
 me. Then I suppose she tripped on her skirt as 
 she tried to spring up there was a sharp cry and 
 the girl fell backward into the water. 
 
 In less time than it takes to write it my coat and 
 waistcoat were off and I was swimming madly 
 against the waves in the direction of a white speck 
 that bobbed upon the water. My progress was slow, 
 for my clothing was heavy and my muscles not so 
 firm as they would be later in the season, so I 
 shouted to the girl to grasp a pile and keep her head 
 above water. There was no answer, and my heart 
 grew heavy with sudden fear. What if I should
 
 ALMOST A HERO 71 
 
 be too late ? I thanked God that the tide was 
 coming in. Then I caught the bit of white. It 
 was the sunbonnet, floating out by its loosened 
 strings, and before it, in the shadow of the pier, 
 was the girl, clinging to a pile, as I had instructed. 
 
 " Put your arm around me," I cried, as I threw 
 my own left one about her slender waist. 
 
 " No," she said. 
 
 " Do as I tell you," I commanded. " Do you 
 want to drown ? " 
 
 There was a hesitation almost too brief to be 
 noticeable; then a tiny hand grasped my arm. 
 
 " I can help myself a little bit, perhaps," a voice 
 said, and had I been able I should have turned to 
 see whether it were laughter or tears that brought 
 that curious little break into the bell-like tones. 
 
 " Don't try," I said briefly. " Simply hold fast." 
 
 A dozen strokes brought us to the sands, and, 
 lifting the child I carried her up the beach to a 
 spot high and dry and beyond the possible reach of 
 the water. 
 
 " There ! " I exclaimed, as I sat her upon the 
 sands. " Now, if you will tell me where to find 
 your home I will see that you get there safely." 
 
 " Thanks ! But I 'm not going home just now. 
 I 'm yes, I am going right back into the water 
 and have a nice swim. I 'm all wet anyhow." 
 
 " What ! " I ejaculated. " Do you mean to tell 
 me that you jumped into the water purposely ? " 
 
 " Not exactly that," the girl answered with 
 averted face, as she began to scoop out the sand 
 before her. " I did n't jump in. Any one, almost,
 
 72 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 would know that I am not dressed for the water; 
 but I have a bathing suit in the boathouse and I 
 can swim." 
 
 " Then, in Heaven's name, why did n't you say 
 so?" 
 
 " Perhaps I should have said so if you had not 
 been so dictatorial ; or maybe I should have set 
 out ahead of you, but I happened to strike my 
 forehead and it hurt." 
 
 Her face was still averted. I could see only 
 the sweep of the delicate features as I looked down 
 upon them. But then I observed two things ; that 
 there was more ivory than coral in the beautiful 
 cheeks now, and that an ugly lump had raised just 
 above the right eye. 
 
 " Why, you poor child ! " I cried, and was down 
 upon the sands before her in a twinkling. " You 
 must let me take you home directly. I insist upon 
 it. Your mother will find something to reduce that 
 swelling and save you a headache. Come, which 
 way shall we go ? " 
 
 " My mother is n't in Winton," said the girl with 
 the same note in her voice that I had detected when 
 we were in the water, and in that instant I became 
 conscious that she was older than I had thought 
 probably sixteen and she was laughing at me. 
 
 " It would, perhaps, be well if she were," I re- 
 marked, uncomfortable in the consciousness that I 
 had been treating a girl on the edge of womanhood 
 like a child not yet in her teens, but resolved to 
 carry on the farce. " Headstrong children need 
 to be looked after as carefully as young animals."
 
 ALMOST A HERO Y3 
 
 The girl made no response. For fully two min- 
 utes we sat side by side upon the sands and not a 
 word passed between us. Presently, without look- 
 ing in my direction, she began to shake out her 
 wet locks. 
 
 " May I take you home ? " I said then, and, you 
 may observe, I asked it. 
 
 " No, thank you,*' she answered sweetly. 
 
 " Then will you go now that I may see that you 
 start safely ? " 
 
 She made a move as if to rise, but with a sudden 
 glance at her clinging skirts sank back again. 
 
 " No," she said. 
 
 A light shone in upon my brain. 
 
 " You mean to sit here until I go ? " I inquired, 
 pleased with my extraordinary perception. 
 
 She nodded, and the dimples twinkled at the 
 corners of her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered coax- 
 ingly, but were not permitted to lift. 
 
 " Oh ! Very well. Then, good-by. I hope you 
 will feel no bad effects from your plunge, and the 
 bruise." 
 
 " Thank you ; good-by," she answered, with un- 
 flattering promptness. " I hope you understand that 
 I am properly grateful to you for saving my 
 life." 
 
 I laughed, and I knew that she wanted to. 
 
 " I understand, of course," I made answer. 
 " Please think of me as a hero ! " 
 
 I went to the boathouse and spent an uncon- 
 scionably long time there in the hope that the girl 
 would move away and I could learn at least the
 
 74 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 direction that she took. But when I locked the 
 house she still sat where I had left her, and I was 
 presently forced to permit the trees on the rising 
 bank to shut her from my view as I returned to 
 Horsford's cottage for a change of clothing. 
 
 The cottage was as silent as a churchyard when 
 I entered it, and there were no sounds of life within 
 it when I left it half an hour later. But as I 
 reached the path around the sunken gardens I 
 looked back and saw Mrs. Horsford, with the child 
 toddling at her side, crossing the strip of green that 
 lay between the cottage and the vegetable garden, 
 where, doubtless, she had been. My first thought 
 was to return to the cottage and question her about 
 the things uppermost in my mind. Caution sug- 
 gested a slower but probably wiser course, and I 
 turned to the grottos, which I had come to examine. 
 
 There were two of them in the sunken gardens, 
 and from a distance they looked like enchanted 
 spots, fit for fairy habitation. The entrance in both 
 cases was hung with trailing woodbine, but there 
 the suggestion of romance ended, for one was but 
 the hiding place for the pipes that had once brought 
 water to the fountain, while the other was but two 
 or three feet deep a mere archway for the brick 
 wall that banked the knoll above. 
 
 I seated myself on a rustic bench that stood near 
 the larger grotto and presently my mind became 
 absorbed by the case that I had taken in hand. The 
 sudden pausing of a squirrel in his journey along 
 the knoll above me roused me at last to a conscious- 
 ness of my surroundings. I arose and stretched
 
 ALMOST A HEEO 75 
 
 myself and moved from the gardens. The sun was 
 well behind the trees by this time, and the air had 
 taken on that solemn stillness which descends upon 
 the earth toward sunset in summer. 
 
 I felt glad that Gaspard was to arrive within 
 another hour, and with the recollection I walked 
 briskly toward the stable to ascertain whether Hors- 
 ford had got the horse that he had promised to let 
 me have at once. 
 
 As I passed the house it occurred to me that I 
 had not yet dispatched my first report to Mr. Sum- 
 merfield, due on the morrow. I let myself in 
 through the creaking door in the south extension, 
 and went to my bag, which sat upon the floor in 
 one of the parlors, for paper, which I took to the 
 tiny portico, and, using my notebook for a rest 
 upon my knees, I sketched a brief statement of my 
 movements during the past two days, so far as 
 they were likely to be of interest to Mr. Philander 
 Summerfield. 
 
 When I hurried back to the bag to return the 
 superfluous paper, I found on the pile of things I 
 had turned over to get at the paper directly on 
 top and so conspicuous that I could not overlook it, 
 a half sheet of foolscap paper on which was type- 
 written in capitals, 
 
 ONE WARNING FOR A MAN, 
 
 TWO FOR A FOOL, 
 
 THREE FOR A CORPSE. 
 
 WILL YOU AWAIT THE THIRD, OR WILL 
 
 YOU LEAVE OVERLOOK?
 
 76 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 With a flash of grim pleasure I felt for my pistol 
 and loaded it. Then I slipped down to the floor 
 and did my best to discover footprints. But a 
 spirit, indeed, might as well have left the message 
 so far as any trace of him was visible in that half 
 light. I tiptoed around, careful to make no more 
 mark than necessary in the dust upon the floor, in 
 my endeavor to find a lamp that could be used. But 
 the oil in each one had long since evaporated. The 
 matches that I lighted gave me little assistance, and 
 after ten minutes a small pile of charred bits of 
 wood was all that I had to show for my endeavor. 
 
 When I loaded my pistol I was resolved upon 
 searching the house, but after trying the outside 
 doors and finding them all locked, save the one 
 through which I had entered, and the cellar door 
 not only locked but bolted from the inside, I aban- 
 doned the thought of going farther, and returned 
 instead to the front of the house, baffled again and 
 exasperated with myself for being baffled. 
 
 I drew from my pocket the warning of the morn- 
 ing. As I expected, the uneven edge of the 
 more recent half sheet fitted exactly the torn edge 
 of the earlier page, so I could harbor no doubt that 
 they had been left by the same person. Had he, 
 then, also been the author of the one left in New 
 York? Evidently he had regarded this as the sec- 
 ond. I had the first one in my pocket. That, too, 
 was typewritten, but a glance sufficed to show me 
 that the two were not done on the same machine. 
 
 Was it possible that two persons were interesting 
 themselves to keep me away from Overlook? Was
 
 ALMOST A HERO 77 
 
 it that the key to the mystery still lay here in a 
 form so tangible as to be picked up by one so inex- 
 perienced in criminal detection as I, yet overlooked 
 for two years by professional sleuths? How about 
 Barney Rafferts, whose connection with the first 
 communication I had first suspected and then dis- 
 missed from my mind as unlikely? Had he, at 
 one time, been on this case ? 
 
 Oh, to have been here at the time of the crime ! 
 To have met then the monkey-faced Arms, his dot- 
 ing mother and his sister with the apprehensive 
 eyes! And Horsford? What part, if any, had he 
 played in the tragedy, or was he playing now ? 
 Was he, indeed, the agent of his cousin (or of some 
 one else of whom I had yet to learn), a man who 
 forced his wife to silence and who climbed through 
 open second-floor windows to lay a tantalizing threat 
 within twenty feet of my unsuspecting self? 
 
 But granting that Barney arranged the first mes- 
 sage and Jim Arms was the author of the other 
 two, why should Arms make an effort to prevent 
 me from investigating on the spot a crime that came 
 so close to his own life unless, indeed, he were 
 the one I sought? But it had been shown at the 
 coroner's inquest and at both of Harrison Milbrath's 
 trials, that during the afternoon of October 12th, 
 James Arms, farmer, was in Providence, and did 
 not reach home until after seven o'clock in the even- 
 ing, before which time the lifeless body of Peter 
 Somhers had been discovered.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE GIKL IN WHITE 
 
 /GASPARD proved to be all that I had hoped 
 ^-^" of him, and within forty-eight hours after his 
 arrival he had made me as comfortable in that 
 " place of silence " as I had been anywhere in 
 years. He was a stout-hearted little Frenchman, a 
 veteran of the war of '70, without fear of any 
 agency, human, diabolical, or, I fear, divine, and 
 he laughed in the faces of the tradespeople who 
 gravely informed him of the terrors that he was 
 likely to encounter in his new abode. 
 
 With eager interest he listened to all that I could 
 tell him of the crime, and he lamented audibly that 
 he could not have been upon the spot at the time. 
 Gaspard should have been a gendarme. 
 
 I gave him the freedom of the house, and more 
 than once found him sleeping peacefully upon the 
 couch where the body of Mr. Somhers had been 
 found. Gaspard declared it to be the most com- 
 fortable couch in the house; and I doubt not that 
 he had tried them all, for he worked like a galley 
 slave and slept like a saint ! 
 
 Within two days I had gone through, behind, 
 around or under every visible article in the house 
 from garret to cellar, and from private papers in 
 Mr. Somhers' desk to a pair of blue jeans in an up- 
 stairs closet. Everything that Gaspard and I found
 
 THE GIKL IN WHITE 79 
 
 to be not stationary was shaken from its dust-laden 
 quiet of two years and examined minutely. 
 
 Notwithstanding this care, at the conclusion of 
 the investigation I had to admit that it had been 
 fruitless in helping me to find a motive for the crime 
 or a clue to the criminal. 
 
 I felt instinctively that the Arms family was 
 somehow involved. But how ? That either Maggie 
 or her mother was directly responsible I could not 
 believe. And as for Jim : even if it could be proved 
 that he was at Overlook at the hour of the crime, 
 would I gain much? Not unless I could find a 
 motive for the deed. There was the legacy, to be 
 sure, but did Arms know of that? Granting that 
 he did know of it, was five thousand dollars enough, 
 even to his ignorant mind, to pay for the risk ? In 
 case the legacy or his position became imperiled it 
 might be. Proof that such a danger threatened 
 would certainly warrant ai^ hypothesis of his guilt. 
 
 I made this note in my diary: 
 
 If James Arms, late farmer of Overlook, is the man 
 I seek, my deductions made from the report of the 
 inquest and trials were wrong. No man of his muscu- 
 lar build would have dragged Mr. Somhers' body to the 
 couch where it was found; nor do I believe that he 
 would have taken the care that seemed to have been 
 taken to cover the manner of the crime and protect the 
 couch. But he is a man who will bear study, and I 
 mean to accept the invitation of his mother to " come 
 again," and before long too. That his manner was 
 not that of impulse that other day I am confident, for 
 twice since my first words with him I have met him on
 
 80 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the road to town and he has answered my greeting only 
 with a gruff : " Aye, aye ! Halong with ye, Betsey ! " or 
 " Be hon with ye, Sal ! " as he touched his mares 
 with his whip. 
 
 What can be the secret of such a man's popularity 
 with, or shall I say power over, a man like Mr. 
 Somhers ? 
 
 I have begun a practice of visiting the post office 
 each day, for it is there that the village idlers, whom 
 I have come to call "the faculty," congregate, and 
 the gossip of the place is dished up fresh and hot. I 
 think that there I shall be able to get information, but 
 I must be content to seek cautiously, gaining by scraps, 
 for the villagers will close up like their own native 
 clams once they divine that they are being questioned. 
 Moreover, I am still regarded with curiosity and some 
 doubt, and must move conservatively until I am a 
 familiar character. 
 
 In the meantime I am coaching Gaspard. I have 
 told him enough of my mission here to allay his curi- 
 osity, and after assuring myself of his loyalty and dis- 
 cretion, have instructed him to see as much of the 
 Horsfords as he can and learn their version of the 
 Somhers case, their feeling toward their cousin, Jim 
 Arms, and his family, and if possible, the meaning of 
 the curious sounds I heard in the cottage the other 
 night. 
 
 He has found the commission an uphill task, for 
 Horsford is no less the sphinx with him than with me. 
 Moreover, he has given Gaspard clearly to understand 
 that he will not have him coming about Mrs. Horsford 
 with his French blandishments. To me this is sig- 
 nificant of one of two facts. Either the heavy, silent 
 Horsford is capable of keen jealousy or, as I have con- 
 jectured, he is afraid of his wife's volubility. I say her
 
 THE GIRL IN WHITE 81 
 
 " volubility," for the impression that she made on me 
 that first evening still lingers, notwithstanding that 
 whenever I have since seen her, the subdued tone of the 
 following morning had been conspicuous. 
 
 Horsford apparently sees through the excuses I make 
 to get a word with his wife, and regards my approach 
 with eyes that invariably narrow. 
 
 Yesterday, quite incidentally, I learned where Mr. 
 McClure lives. The Queen Anne cottage in magnifi- 
 cent grounds, that I have admired from a distance, is 
 his, it seems. The entrance to the place is only just 
 across the road from the east side of the triangle of 
 woods almost within shouting distance. I dare say 
 it was the man himself whom I saw yesterday meander- 
 ing around among the trees on the lawn, and feeding 
 nuts to the squirrels. I was tempted to introduce 
 myself at that time, but upon reflection decided to 
 await Kilbourne's arrival, which is set for Saturday 
 evening. 
 
 It stands to reason that this McClure knew Mr. 
 Somhers, and in all probability he knew him well, as 
 men of Mr. Somhers' type are not common enough 
 about here, I fancy, to be ignored by him. ... I be- 
 lieve that I 'd better make Mr. McClure's acquaintance 
 at once, and not wait for the company of that uncertain 
 Kilbourne. So here goes! 
 
 Whereupon, with a resolve not unmixed, I '11 
 admit, with a thought of another introduction I 
 snapped the rubber band over the pasteboard covers 
 of my pocket diary, and, rising from the grass where 
 I had been writing in the shade of a great elm tree, I 
 sauntered eastward. 
 
 At the entrance gates, however, the man I had 
 
 a
 
 82 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 seen feeding squirrels drove through his own gates 
 and jogged down the road away from me. 
 
 My plan thus frustrated, I turned toward the 
 boathouse. 
 
 " If I may not call upon desirable old gentlemen," 
 I soliloquized, " it is possible that circumstances 
 will be kinder in the matter of a water trip. It 
 looks as if there might be a breeze stirring out there, 
 which is more than we can be thankful for here." 
 
 Then I recalled the girl with the white sunbonnet. 
 I had made two efforts to learn her identity. I 
 had asked Horsford. He looked puzzled and shook 
 his head thoughtfully, finally answering that he 
 knew of no such person. Gaspard was equally ig- 
 norant, but he assured me volubly that he would 
 proceed at once to learn for me the fair one's name. 
 I left him, therefore, to gather facts in his own way ; 
 for, being French, I knew him to be politic, and, 
 being forty, I believed him to be discreet. 
 
 As yet he had imparted no news, and, as I strolled 
 beachward, I was considering how I could hasten 
 his investigations, when I was startled by an un- 
 expected warble, clear and sweet, in the branches 
 above me, or so it seemed. 
 
 What bird had notes like that! I craned my 
 neck in the hope of catching a glimpse of the little 
 fellow. But I saw only the cocked bright eye of a 
 robin peering down into mine, and there was a long 
 pause before the warble was repeated. 
 
 Then it came from a clump of trees ahead of me. 
 Forward I hastened, only to find that the bird was 
 still in advance of me. I pushed on, my head
 
 THE GIEL IN WHITE 83 
 
 thrown back, my eyes fixed on the interlacing boughs, 
 my mind too absorbed in things overhead to think 
 of the pitfalls into which my feet might stray. 
 
 Suddenly I was brought to earth, literally, for 
 my ankle turned on a treacherous small stone in 
 the path and I was thrown upon my knees in an atti- 
 tude of supplication before a sapling maple. 
 
 Instantly a quickly suppressed feminine laugb 
 greeted my surprised ears, followed by the swish of 
 dress skirts and the swift patter of feet. 
 
 I was upright again in a trice, and running head- 
 long in the direction of the footsteps, my mind again 
 on the girl with the white sunbonnet. But I caught 
 not even a glimpse of feminine robes ; and, at the 
 turn in the path where the walk from the lawn de- 
 scended, I lost all sound of everything save the 
 crunching of gravel beneath my own feet. 
 
 I was within fifty feet of the Overlook boathouse 
 by that time, and after a moment's indecision I 
 turned toward it. A glance at the pier which had 
 been the scene of my heroic rescue showed me that 
 the boathouse upon it was closed, and that there 
 were no signs of life about. 
 
 As I loosened the green and red boat from its 
 moorings, and dropped lazily into it, the echo of a 
 laugh, musical, tantalizing and feminine floated 
 down to me from the embankment. I started con- 
 sciously and looked sharply before me ; but the only 
 living things that I could see were a chipmunk on a 
 worm-eaten log, and a gull's wings outlined against 
 the blue of the sky. 
 
 Half an hour later, while I lay flat upon my back
 
 84 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 in the drifting boat and watched the fleecy clouds 
 from the edge of my hat brim, I was awakened 
 from a daydream by the sound of a bird's warble 
 rising, it seemed, from the water near me. Cau- 
 tiously I sat up and looked sharply about me, a new 
 idea as to the " bird " illuminating my brain. 
 
 I had drifted down toward the lighthouse, and 
 no craft was near me nor any bird in the air above 
 me. But a quarter of a mile distant and hugging 
 the shore of Winton neck, a small rowboat moved 
 slowly. It was brilliantly white; and against the 
 blue cushions in the high back of the stern, a soli- 
 tary figure sat indolently a girl in white, with 
 golden hair shining in the sunlight in defiance of a 
 white sunbonnet which had fallen to her shoulders ! 
 
 In a flash, I comprehended the situation. There, 
 in one, were my Undine, my warbler, and my dam- 
 sel of the tantalizing laugh ! She should not again 
 escape. Moreover, in punishment for her amuse- 
 ment, she should tell me her name, or where she 
 lived, or agree to permit me to call upon her when, 
 by other means, I had learned both. 
 
 In the flush of this resolve I seized the oars and 
 in a twinkling had headed my boat toward hers and 
 was pulling vigorously. She still lolled against the 
 cushions of her boat when, after a few strong strokes, 
 I glanced over my shoulder toward her. But the 
 next time that I looked she had taken her place be- 
 tween the locks and was lifting the dripping oars 
 from the water. Then a low, rippling laugh came 
 across on the breeze to me and, at the same instant, 
 the little white boat shot away from my approach.
 
 THE GIRL IN WHITE 85 
 
 She pulled with a long, sure stroke that permitted 
 no waste of energy, and carried her craft over the 
 water at a speed that I was far from equaling. In 
 my ajnazement at the sight I paused to stare for a 
 moment, then I bent to my oars with redoubled 
 vigor. 
 
 Notwithstanding my efforts, however, the tiny 
 white craft kept at a tantalizing distance from me; 
 and presently I was chagrined to see that only one 
 chance to win remained for me. That one was to 
 overtake her while a mooring was being effected. 
 But with an aim that was unerring, as she neared 
 the pier the Overlook pier at that ! a rope 
 flew out from Undine's hands and its noose fell 
 deftly over one of the upright posts at the end. 
 And, in a moment, that girl stood upon the pier, 
 flushed and exultant. 
 
 I had dropped my oars, and, not more than a 
 hundred feet from her, had whirled about upon the 
 boat seat to face her. As she stood there for the 
 fraction of a second I knew for a surety that she 
 was my beauty of the train. Then the small, trim 
 figure turned, waved a small hand in flaunting tri- 
 umph, and with as much composure as if it were 
 bound for church, walked toward and disappeared 
 among the trees on the embankment. 
 
 Within a minute's time I, too, had effected a land- 
 ing, and was again in hot pursuit. Up the bank I 
 scrambled, regardless of everything but ultimate 
 victory ; as I reached the forking of the path, there, 
 not more than a hundred feet before me, was a 
 slender, white-clad figure and a white sunbonnet!
 
 86 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 What was more, they were moving with an ad- 
 mirable lack of vulgar haste. 
 
 Triumphantly I gazed, for was not the object of 
 my pursuit all but accomplished ? Little did Undine 
 suspect my nearness! Or could it be possible that 
 she heard my approach and purposely loitered that 
 I might overtake her? My speed slackened with 
 the thought. If that were the case the piquancy 
 of the situation was lost. I paused. Then a pic- 
 ture of the scene just enacted flashed across my 
 mind. Those naming cheeks and sparkling eyes did 
 not indicate that effort had been made merely to 
 give the loser an easy conquest in the end ; nor did 
 that proudly tilted head signify that he who would 
 might walk up and take even an acquaintance. 
 
 No; assuredly, Undine did not know of my ap- 
 proach. When I reached her, then, how was I to 
 explain my conduct in following her beyond the 
 pier where she had waved a distinct, if victorious, 
 farewell ? 
 
 With eager haste I looked about for something 
 that would answer for a passport to her side; and 
 Fate seemed to smile upon me, for there, shining in 
 a shaft of sunlight, was a gilt hairpin. It was too 
 absurdly trifling to notice, had I not been hard 
 pressed ; but in the urgency of the moment I picked 
 it up thankfully and hurried forward with it. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " I exclaimed in my most 
 dulcet if breathless tones, as I gained the side 
 of the bonnet, " I think you dropped this." 
 
 " Sure, sor, an' I think ye 're mistaken," was the 
 unexpected answer, as the bonnet turned toward
 
 THE GIRL IN WHITE 87 
 
 me and revealed beneath, not the delicate face of 
 my distinctly American Undine, but the wide fea- 
 tures and broad smile of a dark-haired daughter of 
 Erin ! " But I b'lave I know where it b'longs, an' 
 I 'm willin' to take charge of it," she added, and 
 there was no mistaking her amusement. 
 
 The blood tingled the roots of my hair and effer- 
 vesced down my spine, and I was conscious of won- 
 dering whether it betrayed me through the tan on 
 my face. Sheepishly I put the insignificant scrap 
 of wire upon the girl's outstretched palm, and with 
 an embarrassment that I felt was expressed in every 
 feature and muscle, I raised my hat and turned 
 away. 
 
 A trap had been set for me, and I had fallen into 
 it with a promptness that must have been wonder- 
 fully gratifying to the owner of the white sunbonnet ; 
 for I did not doubt that Undine had afforded herself 
 some additional amusement and triumph by making 
 that girl doubtless her maid 'her temporary 
 representative, trusting to a man's notorious lack of 
 observation as to details of feminine attire to carry 
 through her plan and make her escape. 
 
 I stole a glance backward and confirmed my sur- 
 mise. No one but a man with one idea would have 
 walked into a snare so obvious, for sunbonnet and 
 height were the only features that the two girls had 
 in common. Not only was this girl stouter than 
 Undine, but her gown was in stripes of black and 
 white, and she wore a large apron! 
 
 All that day the little white boat rocked demurely 
 by the side of mine on the rising waters at the
 
 88 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Overlook pier; but the following morning, when I 
 went down for an early row, it was gone, and look- 
 ing to my neighbor's pier I beheld it moored there, 
 pleasantly suggestive of its fair occupant of the 
 previous day.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 
 
 SATURDAY being the day that the usually in- 
 dolent male Wintonites assisted their women 
 folk to kill and dress chickens, bring in vegetables, 
 mow the lawn, and otherwise make ready for the 
 approaching day of rest, I found most of the chairs 
 deserted upon the post-office piazza. I remained, 
 therefore, only long enough to read a short letter 
 from Harrison Milbrath, in which he inclosed a 
 card to Mr. McClure, whose acquaintance, he sug- 
 gested, I might find both helpful and agreeable. 
 
 I had ridden to town, and as I cantered back, the 
 charm of the day fell over me like a spell. Every 
 breath of the clear air sent the blood tingling through 
 my veins and encouraged my desire to play truant 
 for a few hours. At the turn where the road from 
 Clintonville comes into the main street, I threw 
 off the last remnant of responsibility, and galloped 
 gladly into a section of country where hitherto I had 
 not traveled. 
 
 I had gone for perhaps a mile inland when, of a 
 sudden, a clear, sweet warble fell upon my ears. 
 On the instant I drew rein and listened. It came 
 again presently, and was followed immediately by 
 an amused laugh, unrestrained and melodious. 
 Craning my neck in the direction of the sound, I
 
 90 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 beheld the prettiest sight that had been vouchsafed 
 me in many a day. 
 
 On a stone wall that outlined a pasture sat my 
 Undine, in white, as before, the little white sun- 
 bonnet for once upon her head but tipping away 
 from her face. That the warble was intended for a 
 horse became apparent, for a soft whinny answered 
 each sound and a fine black animal, side-saddled, 
 raised her head for an instant from the billows of 
 clover in which it was buried, and took a few en- 
 couraging steps toward the dainty figure upon the 
 wall. 
 
 The girl flicked the tips of her small feet with 
 her riding whip, and, apparently, forgot the horse. 
 A retrospective smile played about her mouth and 
 as she warbled again and again and laughed aloud, 
 I had an uncomfortable presentiment that I was the 
 subject of her mirth. The horse lifted one ear 
 questioningly and whinnied. 
 
 " I don't want you, Mercedes," the girl cried mer- 
 rily. " I was illustrating how easy it is to delude 
 big, wise men. You would n't be so easily fooled, 
 now would you ? And as for Delia, why, you would 
 know her from me at quite the distance of a half 
 mile, to be sure you would, Mercedes, dear ! " 
 
 If the blood had tingled through my veins when 
 the unexpected " Delia " beamed upon me from the 
 rim of the white sunbonnet, it burned its way 
 through them now. 
 
 Undine undoubtedly believed herself to be far 
 from any human being, and her laughter and words 
 were as free from malice as the song of a bird ; but
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 91 
 
 had she studied a way to punish me she could not 
 have devised a more conclusive method. I was al- 
 ternately incensed and mortified, and (let me ex- 
 press my opinion), mortification is the surest way 
 to humble and floor a man. I was of a mind to ride 
 forward and surprise the small pink ears of Miss 
 Undine, when discretion warned me that I was only 
 an eavesdropper. My horse, disapproving of inde- 
 cision, settled the matter for me by stamping vigor- 
 ously; and, quick as a flash, the girl turned a 
 startled glance of recognition upon me. 
 
 Of all things that could have happened, to be 
 caught sitting there upon that stationary beast, my 
 eyes riveted and my face blazing, was assuredly the 
 least desirable. I lifted my cap, and, jerking up 
 my conscienceless horse, rode forward. With a 
 sharp trill that brought " Mercedes " instantly to 
 her side, the girl scrambled to her feet upon the 
 wall, flung herself into the saddle, and, before I 
 reached the spot where she had been, had galloped 
 through the pasture and was out upon the road a 
 quarter of a mile away from me. 
 
 She had deliberately and literally fled before my 
 approach. Very well. What did I care? That 
 I did care, however, the angry thumping of my 
 heart betrayed. I dropped to the ground and 
 stretched at full length on a shaded bit of grassy 
 roadside at the foot of the wall. It is absurd to 
 have both a miserable mind and an uncomfortable 
 body on such a day. My hand, reaching out, 
 touched something that was neither grass nor stone. 
 It proved, upon examination, to be a locket of gold,
 
 92 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 and heart-shaped. A chain of tiny links was at- 
 tached to it, and so weak was the fastening, I un- 
 derstood how the trinket had succeeded in escaping 
 from its owner's neck. 
 
 Some engraved letters on its face formed one 
 short word : " Dolly." So that was Undine's real 
 name? My fingers must have touched a secret 
 spring, for the top flew open and I found myself 
 staring at two pictures set within. One was Dolly, 
 laughing, mischievous, sans the bonnet. The other 
 was the face of a lad of perhaps eighteen, with 
 merry eyes and a laughing mouth. But the curves 
 of the nostrils and the moulding of the fine chin and 
 lips revealed a sensitiveness of makeup which, at 
 best, is but a doubtful blessing to a man. For an 
 instant I thought that I knew the face, but a close 
 inspection failed to bring me any recollection of 
 where I had seen it. 
 
 Slipping the locket and chain into my coat pocket 
 I remounted my horse. Would I, after all, hurry 
 them back to their owner? Why not keep them 
 until opportunity afforded a correct introduction 
 to the high-headed young woman ? 
 
 I set forth with a final decision to let Fate work 
 out the solution to suit herself. If the paths that 
 Miss Dolly Undine and I saw fit to travel again 
 crossed that morning, very likely I would restore 
 the locket ; otherwise 
 
 I did not turn at the crossroads, as I thought that 
 probably she had. Resolutely I turned my horse's 
 head toward Beverly. Half a mile farther on Fate 
 applauded my action and bestowed her reward ; for
 
 " I had dismounted and held before her the locket.' 
 Page 93.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 93 
 
 there on a boulder under a tree by the side of the 
 road, sat Dolly, feeding sugar to her horse ! 
 
 That time I did not draw rein until I was at the 
 side of the girl. Then, before she had time to do 
 more than spring to her feet and express amazement 
 and defiance in the sudden straightening of her lithe 
 young figure and the proud tilt of her head, I had 
 dismounted and held before her the locket, dangling 
 from its chain. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, and one hand flew to her throat, 
 
 " It was gone And you found it ! You were 
 
 trying " She abandoned her sentence, and her 
 
 face dimpled with a most engaging smile. " It was 
 very good of you," she murmured. " Thank you 
 so much." 
 
 " It is a pleasure to me," I answered with com- 
 mendable dignity. Then I spoilt the effect at once. 
 " We seem destined to meet," I added. 
 
 Miss Dolly grew quite an inch taller before my 
 admiring eyes, and she glared at me haughtily. 
 Then she bowed stiffly. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," she said, and turned to 
 her horse, which had succeeded in browsing its way 
 several feet ahead. 
 
 So this was the way that I was to be left, was it 2 
 A " thank you " and not another kind word. 
 
 " Wait till I get myself ' a damp, moist and un- 
 pleasant body ' again, pulling you out of the briny 
 deep," I volunteered. 
 
 The girl wavered, glanced doubtfully over her 
 shoulder at me, and then laughed softly. 
 
 " I don't mean to be hateful," she said, turning
 
 94 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 back, and her manner became suddenly adorable. 
 " I don't feel so a bit, you know." 
 
 Both eyes sparkled as she lifted them for a frac- 
 tion of a second to mine, and a smile curled the 
 corners of her scarlet lips. 
 
 " It was a kindness, too, for you to help me ashore 
 that time," she conceded. 
 
 " Of course it was," I retorted, and I added 
 wickedly: " Particularly to your parents, who pro- 
 bably do not realize how many risks you take." 
 
 The girl laughed, but she also flushed. 
 
 " I understand, of course," I continued, " that 
 you fancy that you can swim, but I have had no 
 proof of it, and I still insist that it is not safe for 
 children to go too near the big pond alone ! " 
 
 " You are a highly impertinent man ! " 
 
 " And, with your permission, you are an ex- 
 ceedingly charming, if uncomplimentary young 
 child." 
 
 The blood swept in a flame over the girl's features, 
 and she swished her riding whip sharply across the 
 heads of clover at her feet. Then, the flash of temper 
 spent, she laughed aloud and came toward me with 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 " Let 's ' shake and make up,' " she suggested. 
 " I know that you are only teasing me, and I won't 
 stay angry. But, really, you are shockingly ill- 
 mannered to to speak to me in that way. Why, 
 you know nothing about me, not the first thing, if 
 you really believe me to be a child, whereas I have 
 the advantage of being quite well acquainted with 
 you Mr. Elmer Bliss ! "
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 95 
 
 I stared in amazement. How came she to know 
 my name ? Second thought showed me that the fact 
 was not remarkable. Doubtless by now everyone 
 in Winton knew the name of the new tenant of 
 Overlook ; and she had first seen me at the Overlook 
 pier (unless she remembered having seen me on 
 the train which I doubted), later in an Overlook 
 rowboat, and at present with a horse owned by the 
 farmer of Overlook. What more natural than her 
 conclusions ? 
 
 I raised my hat and bowed low before her. 
 
 " Even so, M'lle Dupin," I said. " Your humble 
 servant, Elmer Bliss, late of New York, living at 
 Overlook, very preoccupied on the way to the 
 beach very " 
 
 " Heroic," supplemented the girl with an amused 
 laugh. " But my wide knowledge of you does not 
 end even with the facts that you have enumerated, 
 while you know so little of me that even my name 
 is a mystery." 
 
 " It is Dolly," I responded promptly. 
 
 " Ah ! Here is a man with the wisdom of Solo- 
 mon ! " mocked the girl, still amused, as she slipped 
 the telltale locket into her pocket. " Has it not 
 occurred to you that the name on the locket may be 
 that of a friend? Possibly, though, Mr. Bliss is 
 not aware that it is a custom with girls to exchange 
 pieces of jewelry for a time." 
 
 " I fancy they take out the photographs in the 
 lockets they loan," I answered at random, and was 
 wholly unprepared for the effect that my words had 
 upon the girl.
 
 96 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Her eyes dilated and her hand flew to the hidden 
 trinket. 
 
 " So ! " she exclaimed in tones that expressed both 
 injury and contempt, " Mr. Bliss has been playing 
 the part of Paul Pry, has he ! " 
 
 And before I had time to make myself heard, she 
 had again called Mercedes to her, had sprung from 
 the boulder to her saddle, and was enveloped in a 
 cloud of dust as she galloped madly down the road. 
 
 Well, girls are incomprehensible creatures. Men 
 who assert that they are not have more conceit than 
 knowledge. This girl was no exception. 
 
 I was sufficiently puzzled to be certain of only one 
 thing: that I was guiltless of any intention to dis- 
 tress her, and I should make no further efforts to 
 become acquainted with Miss Dolly Undine! 
 
 With which resolve I mounted my horse and rode 
 slowly back to Overlook.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE HOBSFOEDS 
 
 11/rURRAY KILBOURNE, as good as his word, 
 -L*-L arrived on Saturday evening, but not in his 
 most amiable frame of mind. It was dusk when he 
 reached Overlook. He insisted, nevertheless, on 
 prowling around the grounds, uttering now and 
 then a delighted growl as his keen eyes discovered 
 some especially tempting nook or vista, and impetu- 
 ously declared his intention of bargaining for the 
 place the moment his forthcoming novel proved as 
 great a money earner as his publishers predicted. 
 He was less enthusiastic about the house; but his 
 criticisms were directed chiefly against the modern 
 furniture, which he considered out of harmony with 
 the building's colonial architecture. 
 
 He listened with a slightly wearied expression to 
 an account of my experiences in connection with my 
 new work, which I was determined he should hear 
 although I knew almost at once that his absurd prej- 
 udice against Mr. Milbrath had not been effaced, 
 and that I could expect little, if any, encouragement 
 or help from him. Indeed, I doubt whether he even 
 heard all that I told him, but his imagination was 
 touched by the warnings. 
 
 " Jove, Bliss ! " he cried with a flash of interest, 
 " There is spice there ! No footprints in the dust 
 either time ? " 
 
 7
 
 98 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " In the forenoon they were brushed out. In the 
 evening I could distinguish nothing, but on the fol- 
 lowing morning I found tracks everywhere." 
 
 " Everywhere ? " 
 
 " In both parlors, in the library, in the hall, and 
 even part way up the stairs I found them. There 
 was no attempt to obliterate them." 
 
 " Did you get a copy ? " 
 
 In answer I handed Kilbourne a paper upon 
 which I had outlined the imprint of a medium-size, 
 square-toed boot. 
 
 Kilbourne studied the sketch for a moment. 
 
 " And the owner of the boots ? Have you seen 
 him?" 
 
 " Not with square-toed boots on. The feet are 
 the first thing that I have looked at in a person for 
 the past two days." 
 
 " When you see him you will scarcely know him 
 by that sign, I think." 
 
 " I have thought of that. It is obvious that on the 
 first occasion he wished to cover up all means of 
 identification, and in the second instance he pur- 
 posed to be seen. The inference is plain. Never- 
 theless, I can't help looking at toes." 
 
 Kilbourne laughed. 
 
 " Well, you are not likely to do any harm by 
 that form of investigation," he said a little cyni- 
 cally. " Where did your mystery exit the second 
 time ? " 
 
 " Via the entry door, most likely. It was un- 
 locked when I returned with Gaspard that even- 
 ing."
 
 THE SECRET OF THE HORSFORDS 99 
 
 " Ah ! Which showed that he was in the house 
 when you left it ! " 
 
 " I fear so," I answered meekly. 
 
 " Jove ! Your man within earshot and you per- 
 mit him to slip through your fingers ! Oh, you '11 
 be a famous detective yet, lad ! " 
 
 I made no response. 
 
 " Where is young Milbrath ? " Kilbourne asked 
 after a moment. 
 
 " Still at Manhattan Beach, I suppose. He sails 
 on Wednesday, you remember. Surely you are not 
 trying to connect him with this warning tom- 
 foolery ? " 
 
 " He might not be so bad a subject for a bit of 
 theorizing." 
 
 " Oh, come now ! Why, I had a note from him 
 yesterday, mailed in New York at the very hour 
 that I found the last warning." 
 
 " Is an assistant an impossibility ? " 
 
 " How unlike your usual logic," I said with some 
 heat, " notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Milbrath 
 has offered me an inducement to track down his 
 uncle's slayer, and despite his willingness to have 
 me come to Overlook you think he is the man I am 
 after." 
 
 " On the contrary," drawled Kilbourne, delighted 
 to get me excited, " if he were the criminal he would 
 scarcely object to your presence here, I should sup- 
 pose, for are you likely to learn anything about him 
 that has not already been paraded by the courts? 
 Granting, however, his innocence, there may or may 
 not be a reason, which has occurred to him since he
 
 100 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 saw you, why he does not wish you to make your 
 residence in this house. Indeed, if I remember 
 correctly, he even suggested at your conference that 
 you would be more comfortable at the farmhouse." 
 
 " Nevertheless I cannot connect him with these 
 notes," I said obstinately. 
 
 '" Well, I don't insist that it is necessary. How- 
 ever, I think it is as reasonable a conjecture as yours 
 that Horsford is connected either with the crime 
 or with the warnings." 
 
 " Then how do you account for his manner, and 
 for what I heard in the cottage ? " 
 
 "That I will answer later. He may be a bit of 
 a domestic tyrant, but I have a theory which covers 
 the whole ground, and I will prove or disprove it 
 before I leave here on Monday." 
 
 The following morning, which was Sunday, Kil- 
 bourne's room was vacant when I left mine. I was 
 somewhat surprised by this, for I knew that a habit 
 of early rising was not among Kilbourne's virtues. 
 I concluded, however, that the crisp salt air and the 
 prospect of exploring without interruption various 
 corners left unseen on the previous evening had been 
 the allurements. 
 
 When, however, nine o'clock passed and Kil- 
 bourne had not been seen, I confess to having felt a 
 curious anxiety as to his whereabouts. As I en- 
 tered the dining room I recalled what he had said 
 about probing the Horsford matter and I instructed 
 Gaspard to go down to the cottage and see whether 
 Mr. Kilbourne was there or had been there. Then 
 I returned to the portico to await Gaspard's return.
 
 THE SECEET OF THE HOESFOEDS 101 
 
 Presently, I caught a glimpse between the trees of 
 a man walking briskly along the gravel path that 
 bordered the sunken gardens at the northwest. He 
 was coming toward the house, and for an instant I 
 thought it was Kilbourne. Directly, however, I saw 
 my mistake. The man was a stranger and was clad 
 in overalls. I recalled that Horsford had referred 
 to a helper who would be coming shortly, and de- 
 cided that this was probably the man. But I was 
 curious as to why he was coming to the house instead 
 of transacting his business with Gaspard, whom he 
 must have passed a few feet back. At that instant 
 the stranger disappeared, and I hurried into the 
 house and to the back door, expecting to find him 
 awaiting me. To my surprise there was no one 
 there, or anywhere about, and I followed the path 
 around to the portico without seeing the man. I 
 decided that he had left the gravel path and made a 
 cut to the highroad through the triangle of woods. 
 But I could not see what would possess anyone com- 
 ing from the cottage to take such a roundabout way 
 of getting out of the grounds. 
 
 I was about to put off in the direction he must 
 have taken to satisfy myself that he was there, 
 when Gaspard returned. Mr. Kilbourne had not 
 been seen at the farmhouse, and Gaspard had been 
 turned down frigidly by the laird of the cottage. 
 He was smarting a little as a result, for Mrs. Hors- 
 ford had been more gay and talkative than ever 
 before to him, and his fancy had flown high for a 
 moment that he could get some information for me. 
 
 I listened to Gaspard's chatter, only half heeding
 
 102 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it, for the feeling of anxiety concerning Kilbourne 
 had returned. I made a somewhat hasty disposition 
 of the breakfast, and just as I was folding my nap- 
 kin Kilbourne entered the room, radiant from his 
 usual morning " dip " and faultlessly attired. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed with animation as his quick 
 eye took in the situation, " I have to beg your pardon 
 for keeping you on tenterhooks as to my whereabouts. 
 But I have done a day's work, lad. I have redeemed 
 my promise. Behold the possessor of the Horsford 
 family skeleton." 
 
 " The deuce you are ! They told Gaspard that 
 they had not seen you." 
 
 " You can't always tell a man by the clothes he 
 wears," parodied Kilbourne gayly. " By Jove, man, 
 I 'm all but famished ! " And he set himself with 
 deliberate concentration to the matter in hand. 
 
 I realized the uselessness of questioning him un- 
 til his inner man were appeased, so I ordered another 
 cup of coffee and over it discussed impartially vari- 
 ous commonplaces. When Kilbourne had finished 
 breakfast, and we had lighted cigars and strolled to 
 the portico, I said : 
 
 " And now about your before-breakfast exploit, 
 Kilbourne ? " 
 
 Kilbourne appeared not to hear. He leaned 
 against a pillar and looked out toward the bay where 
 a few white-sailed boats rode merrily in the sun- 
 light. 
 
 " By the way," he remarked presently, " who 's 
 that deuced pretty girl who stores her boat next 
 door to yours ? "
 
 THE SECRET OF THE HORSFORDS 103 
 
 " How, Mr. Murray Kilbourne, do you know that 
 there is a pretty girl who stores her boat next door 
 to mine ? " 
 
 Kilbourne smiled enigmatically. 
 
 " ' 'T is the early bird that catches the first worm/ 
 you have heard. When I am in the country I have 
 a habit of early rising." 
 
 " Ah ! And so, also, has Miss Dolly Undine, I 
 dare say ! " 
 
 " Dolly Undine," repeated Kilbourne. " Surely 
 her name is not t Undine' ! " 
 
 " So far as I know to the contrary it is." 
 
 Kilbourne stared at me. 
 
 " Deuced clever this morning, are n't we ? " he 
 inquired. " Well, if you don't know her name I 
 can't expect you to tell it me Mr. McClure ought 
 to know her. By the way, I believe I 'd better look 
 up Mr. McClure. Will you take me over now ? " 
 And Kilbourne turned on me a mischievous look as 
 he puffed out a mouthful of smoke. 
 
 " Certainly I will take you to Red Gable that 
 is the name of the McClure place whenever you 
 like. But first about Horsford." 
 
 " Oh, that is a tale soon told," Kilbourne an- 
 swered carelessly. " Horsford stands in lively fear 
 that you will learn of his wife's habits. As I sur- 
 mised from your story, she drinks, and when in 
 her cups is inclined toward suicide. Moreover, 
 she wants to kill the child, as well. I fancy 
 that Horsford has anything but an eventless 
 life." 
 
 " Are such occasions frequent ? "
 
 104 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " As often as a sister, as bad as herself, brings 
 her the stuff from Clinton ville." 
 
 In a flash, then, I saw the meaning of Mrs. 
 Horsford's peculiarity of manner. 
 
 " If that is all there is to it, Kilbourne, why does 
 Horsford object to having me here, or to having me 
 go to the cottage ? " 
 
 " I don't know unless he fears that any tenant 
 may mean the forfeiture of his present profitable 
 berth. I know he fears that his wife's weakness 
 may cost him his place." 
 
 " But, Kilbourne, how did you learn all this ? " 
 
 " Oh, come ! " he said, with a laugh, running 
 down the steps, " you promised to take me to Mr. 
 McClure." 
 
 " How did you come by all this information ? " 
 
 " Well, I dare say you noticed the man in blue 
 jeans who walked up the back drive and around 
 the sunken gardens an hour or so ago ? You looked 
 at him, at any rate." 
 
 " Jerusalem ! Was that you, after all ? " 
 
 "Yes, clever lad!" 
 
 " I suppose it is useless to ask you how you 
 managed your game ? " 
 
 " Practically so," answered Kilbourne soberly. 
 " ' The end justifies the means/ you know." 
 
 I had joined him on the drive by this time, and 
 we crossed over to the cool, green grass of the lawn. 
 After a little I said: 
 
 " Kilbourne, are you still of the opinion that 
 Horsford is not connected with those anonymous 
 messages ? "
 
 THE SECKET OF THE HORSFORDS 105 
 
 " I am," positively. 
 
 " And knows no more about Mr. Somhers' death 
 than he would have us believe ? " 
 
 " I hardly think he does." 
 
 " Kilbourne," I ventured presently, " the magic 
 key to this whole miserable puzzle lies right here 
 in Winton, of that I am confident. Could n't you 
 manage to spend this week with me and help me 
 find it?" 
 
 Kilbourne looked straight before him. 
 
 " I have n't a doubt about it," he answered, " but 
 I don't purpose to manage that way. Call me 
 what names you will, but permit me to keep out of 
 the zone of the Milbrath." He shivered slightly as 
 he spoke, notwithstanding the warmth of the day. 
 
 We had reached the triangle of woods by this 
 time. 
 
 " By the way, Murray," I said significantly, 
 " Mr. McClure is quite as likely to be at home in 
 the afternoon as in the morning, but I 've learned 
 by experience that Miss Dolly Undine prefers the 
 forenoons for her outings. Still, we '11 go to Red 
 Gables now if you say so." 
 
 " Hang Red Gables ! " responded Kilbourne, as 
 he turned on his heel toward the beach. " We will 
 see Mr. McClure this afternoon."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE MAGICIAN OF EED GABLES 
 
 call at Red Gables resulted, to me, at least, 
 in several surprises. 
 
 In the first place, Mr. McClure was much older 
 than I had thought, and he possessed a charm which 
 to this day I have not been able to analyze. It lay 
 not in his appearance, for he was so plain as to be 
 almost grotesque; not in his manner, for that was 
 frequently abstracted; not in his sympathy, even, 
 though that was as quick as in a tender woman. His 
 smile was, indeed, the only tangible evidence of it, 
 and that did not explain the spell under which all 
 passed who came to know him. 
 
 Perhaps the secret of his fascination lay in his 
 attitude toward life, in his almost child-like belief 
 in the supremacy of those things that are good and 
 wholesome and abiding; it may be that he radiated 
 an atmosphere of faith. I know that he had the 
 affection of all, and, in return, found some good in 
 everything. 
 
 We found him under a tree on his lawn minister- 
 ing to an assembly of squirrels. He recalled Kil- 
 bourne at once, with apparent delight, and assured 
 me that any man who was Mr. Kilbourne's friend 
 was his also. I had passed at once under the spell 
 of the magician of Red Gables and, with Kilbourne, 
 gladly followed to the wide veranda, where directly
 
 THE MAGICIAN OF RED GABLES 107 
 
 we found ourselves in big chairs, our feet upon the 
 veranda rail and our heads enveloped in smoke. 
 
 I was not long in learning that Mr. McClure 
 and Mr. Somhers had been friends; and I soon 
 found, also, that Harrison Milbrath could boast 
 no stauncher or more sympathetic defender than 
 Chauncey McClure; but Mr. McClure appeared 
 reticent and perhaps distressed, on the subject of 
 the tragedy, and as Kilbourne became gloomy and 
 unsociable it was speedily shelved to await a more 
 opportune time. 
 
 Mr. McClure had gone indoors for a volume 
 which Kilbourne and he were discussing, when, of a 
 sudden, the clatter of a horse's hoofs fell upon our 
 ears, and directly a black mare that I recognized as 
 Mercedes galloped like one possessed up the drive 
 toward us, bearing upon her back Dolly, of 
 course, flushed, excited, laughing, her hair flying 
 about her face and streaming out behind, and the 
 sunbonnet, for once not even pretending to protect 
 her, hanging from the horn of her saddle! 
 
 Too busy with my own thoughts to consider what 
 the appearance might mean to Kilbourne, I stared 
 joyously at the vision, as she quickly dismounted at 
 the horse block and ran up the steps. Just then Mr. 
 McClure appeared in the doorway, book in hand. 
 
 " Dolly ! Dolly my dear ! Will you never grow 
 up ? " he exclaimed, but his winning smile illu- 
 mined his features as he crossed the veranda to the 
 girl's side. 
 
 She turned and threw herself into his arms, her 
 own about his neck, laughing and mocking him
 
 108 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 adorably. She had not seen Kilbourne and me, I 
 know, for when she lifted her head from the old 
 man's shoulder and her eyes encountered mine they 
 distended almost with fear, it seemed, and she ut- 
 tered a startled cry. 
 
 " Why, child, did you not know that we have 
 callers ? " Mr. McClure asked. " See, Dolly, my 
 dear, I want these new friends of mine to know you. 
 Gentlemen, this is my only living kin, my beloved 
 granddaughter and housekeeper, Dolores." 
 
 Had I possessed even the wit of a mummy I 
 thought in that moment I might at least have traced 
 her to Red Gables. What place was more likely 
 to share that tiny stretch of beach with Overlook? 
 What other place, indeed, was near Overlook to 
 share it? 
 
 In this brief interval of salutation and self- 
 criticism, Miss Dolly had acknowledged our intro- 
 ductions with formal bows and an exceedingly grave 
 countenance, but her manner toward me indicated 
 no recognition. She disappeared directly, and I 
 was wondering whether it were a part of her idea of 
 propriety to begin an acquaintance with this meet- 
 ing, when she returned, her hair coiled high upon 
 her head, her dress skirt very long, her carriage very 
 stately, and, in fact, once more my beauty of the 
 train. She came directly to me. 
 
 " I want to ask your forgiveness for my words 
 and conduct yesterday," she said smilingly, and 
 stretched out a tiny hand which I grasped with 
 unnecessary fervor. " I knew that I was wrong as 
 soon as I stopped to think," she went on before I
 
 THE MAGICIAN OF KED GABLES 109 
 
 could answer, " and I 've been to the beach twice in 
 the hope of seeing you and telling you so." 
 
 " Why, Dolly, have you and Mr. Bliss met be- 
 fore to-di-y ? " Mr. McClure asked in astonished 
 accents, and Kilbourne looked quizzical. 
 
 Dolly laughed, and going to her grandfather's 
 chair she perched upon one arm of it. 
 
 " Mr. Bliss found my locket, grandpa, dear," she 
 explained. 
 
 Mr. McClure's face instantly radiated a hundred 
 lines of amusement. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " then Mr. Bliss is the most 
 recent victim of your pranks, child ! " He lifted a 
 warning finger. 
 
 " My granddaughter will bear watching, gentle- 
 men," he cautioned smilingly. " For mischief when 
 the mood is upon her, she is a veritable sprite. 
 Pray do not take her too seriously at any time." 
 
 Dolly pouted bewitchingly, in protesting indigna- 
 tion; then smiled enigmatically, and, with consum- 
 mate tact, directed the conversation from herself. 
 
 With as much skill, Kilbourne adjusted condi- 
 tions to meet his ideas of enjoyment, with the result 
 that presently I found, with a little thrill of jeal- 
 ousy, that I was sidetracked with Mr. McClure 
 while Kilbourne had Dolly to himself. 
 
 " You have chosen a lovely spot for your sum- 
 mer's outing, Mr. Bliss," Mr. McClure remarked. 
 I agreed with him so heartily as to bring a smile to 
 his face. 
 
 " If there 's a lovelier one on earth I 'd like to 
 see it," I answered. " But Horsford, the farmer,
 
 110 THE SXAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 assures me that the house is possessed of an evil 
 genius and advises me not to live there." 
 
 Mr. McClure looked serious. 
 
 " Perhaps he is the originator of the sentiment 
 against Overlook that appears to have taken root in 
 the village," he said thoughtfully. " Doubtless you 
 have observed it. Only yesterday the man who 
 assists my out-of-doors man gravely informed me 
 that the place was haunted." 
 
 "Did he say by what?" 
 
 " By the spirit of Mr. Somhers." 
 
 " Um ! That is farther than Horsford went. He 
 implied that there is a 'real ghost/ but it was to 
 the atmosphere of mystery and danger that he re- 
 ferred. I dare say this man of yours has seen the 
 ghost!" 
 
 Mr. McClure shook his head more solemnly than 
 the occasion appeared to warrant. 
 
 " What he had to tell was merely hearsay. Some 
 boys, including one of his own, ventured on a twi- 
 light game of ' hide-and-seek ' on the lawn of Over- 
 look, and at one of their l counting-out ' periods, 
 when they were assembled, they distinctly saw the 
 figure of Mr. Somhers approaching them." 
 
 " I '11 warrant they did n't wait for him to reach 
 them ! " I smiled. 
 
 Mr. McClure did not respond to my mood. He 
 continued as if he had not heard me. 
 
 " And a few weeks ago a story was going the 
 rounds that on several occasions a light was seen 
 shining from the windows of the library in the 
 dead of night."
 
 THE MAGICIAN OF KED GABLES 111 
 
 " The shutters of the windows were closed and 
 locked on the morning of my arrival." 
 
 " They were closed, also, on the mornings follow- 
 ing those occasions, as they had been on the even- 
 ings preceding them so say the tale-mongers." 
 
 " Are such stories generally credited in the 
 village ? " 
 
 Mr. McClure gazed before him with curiously 
 abstracted eyes. But he heard me, for presently he 
 answered with a smile : 
 
 " That is difficult to say. Mr. Somhers' death 
 was practically the first tragedy in the history of the 
 village, and it shook it to its foundations. Since 
 then Overlook has been regarded by many as a place 
 of evil habitation. Indeed, it is natural, is it not, 
 since the latent belief in the supernatural which 
 is in all of us has been roused in Winton, that the 
 more credulous, especially those who believed in 
 Harry's innocence, should credit the rumors that 
 Mr. Somhers has returned in spirit to avenge his 
 untimely end ? " 
 
 " I seem to have come unknowingly to a veritable 
 ' palace of mysteries,' " I said. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I fear that from that standpoint 
 you will be disillusioned," smiled Mr. McClure. 
 " Take away all knowledge of its history and it must 
 become one of the most delightful country places in 
 New England. But this I believe, Mr. Bliss: If 
 the dead have the power to return, to avenge their 
 deaths where avenge is needed, to comfort those 
 who mourn for them, or to help the living, Peter 
 Somhers would come and set free that poor, sensi-
 
 112 THE SNAKE OE CIKCUMSTANCE 
 
 tive lad who is still bound by the chains of circum- 
 stance. He would hound the guilty to confession 
 and bring restitution and comfort to those who have 
 been wronged through his death. For that was his 
 creed, Mr. Bliss, endurance to the limit, then 
 the old law, l an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' ' 
 He paused, and for a moment seemed lost in thought. 
 " There are, indeed, more things in heaven and upon 
 earth than our philosophy dreams of," he continued 
 slowly. " It may be that a return is possible, in the 
 semblance of the earth form, even. What proof 
 have we that such is not the case, that Peter Somhers 
 has come into possession of powers that permit him 
 to avenge his death ? " 
 
 Mr. McClure paused as if conscious that he had 
 been speaking more to himself than to me. A deep 
 fire glowed in his eyes as he turned them steadily 
 to mine. 
 
 " In presenting theories not accepted by popular 
 thought I am, I know, Mr. Bliss, endangering my 
 reputation for conservatism," he said. " It is only 
 recently that I have indulged in speculation of this 
 nature, but I have had an experience that sent my 
 thoughts in channels quite out of their usual run. 
 Wild as the statement may sound to you, it is a fact 
 that I, too, this summer, nearly two years after his 
 death, have seen the spirit of my old friend, Peter 
 Somhers ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE VOICE OF BEELZEBUB 
 
 TT was impossible to doubt Mr. McClure's serious- 
 -*- ness, and I regarded him with curiosity. Could 
 it be that the old fellow was a bit unstrung men- 
 tally? But no. Impossible that eyes so clear and 
 steady could mirror the fancies of an unbalanced 
 brain. He had somehow been tricked ; or, perhaps 
 the case was one of illusion. One hears of instances 
 of spirit manifestation, but does one ever verify 
 them? 
 
 " Indeed ! " I exclaimed, " you interest me. Will 
 you be so good as to tell me the details of your 
 experience ? " 
 
 " Willingly," Mr. McClure responded promptly. 
 " I have referred to it chiefly in the hope that it 
 might be of assistance to you." He hesitated and 
 regarded me momentarily with a questioning gaze. 
 " But, for the present, at least," he continued, " I 
 prefer that it should not become village property. 
 It was just a week ago this evening that I paused 
 by the gate yonder, as I often do in my walk, and 
 looked beyond me to Overlook. The sun had been 
 down for an hour, but a wonderful afterglow fol- 
 lowed, and there was still enough light in the sky to 
 bring out with distinctness the objects at the crest
 
 114 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 of the knoll. Suddenly, as I gazed, the figure of 
 a man became outlined against the sky between the 
 rustic bench and the statue of Niobe." 
 
 Mr. McClure paused and his fingers moved as 
 though the recollection of what he had seen dis- 
 tressed him, but in a moment he resumed: 
 
 " My first thought, naturally, was that it was 
 some one connected with the place, Horsford, per- 
 haps; but directly I recognized its resemblance to 
 to Peter Somhers. Its back was against the light 
 and from where I stood its face was indistinguish- 
 able, but the build and carriage were unmistakable. 
 Then, as I gazed, it vanished. It did not move 
 away, it did not drop to the ground, so far as I 
 could see, it simply disappeared. I crossed the 
 road, and went through the grove to the house, 
 thence about the grounds and to the cottage, but not 
 a person did I see or a footstep hear. The follow- 
 ing morning I examined the ground where the figure 
 had stood, but the grass was short and even my own 
 shoes left no marks upon it, so I gained nothing 
 there. But, Mr. Bliss, the figure was not an illu- 
 sion. Phantom or man it was real, and individual, 
 and if it was not a ' materialization ' some one on 
 earth has a wish to give color to the sentiment 
 against the place." 
 
 " Yes," I said, " I agree with you." 
 
 "And," declared Mr. McClure impressively, 
 leaning toward me, " in that case we must appre- 
 hend the miscreant." 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 Mr. McClure settled back in his chair with the
 
 THE VOICE OF BEELZEBUB 115 
 
 pleased air of one who has completed a difficult task 
 satisfactorily. 
 
 " I have been sorely distressed because of my ex- 
 perience," he explained, " but now I am relieved. 
 I have been at a loss to decide whether it is with 
 the designing living or with the supernatural that 
 the case should be classed. But as you are now oc- 
 cupying Overlook you will investigate, perhaps, 
 more thoroughly than I could without exciting sus- 
 picion; and if you need any assistance, Mr. Bliss, 
 remember that " 
 
 " Oh, grandpa McClure ! " cried Dolly at that 
 moment, " Mr. Kilbourne is that extraordinary 
 man you used to tell me about! Oh, I know quite 
 well " to Kilbourne " that you recovered 
 grandpa's watch from an immigrant on the ship 
 who had stolen into the cabin and taken it. And 
 I Ve heard of the clever things you did to entertain 
 the panicky passengers when a fire broke out in the 
 hold. I used to sit with my eyes popping out and 
 my mouth open when grandpa told those stories. 
 You were quite the most wonderful man, I assure 
 you." 
 
 Then the conversation drifted to Kilbourne's 
 powers of observation and deduction, and Mr. Mc- 
 Clure did not again that day mention his mysterious 
 experience. 
 
 It was past nine o'clock when we took our de- 
 parture from Red Gables, for Mr. McClure, sec- 
 onded by Dolly, asked us to remain to tea, and Kil- 
 bourne. without reference to me, joyfully accepted 
 the invitation. His spirits remained at top notch
 
 116 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 all the evening, and it was with obvious reluctance 
 that he left with me when I resolutely withdrew. 
 
 " We shall look for frequent calls from Mr. Bliss, 
 since he is to be so near, and I hope, Mr. Kilbourne, 
 that we shall see you in Winton very often this 
 summer." Mr. McClure remarked heartily as we 
 rose. 
 
 " I 'm returning to Overlook next Saturday," an- 
 swered Kilbourne which was news to me " and 
 it is highly probable that I shall remain a week. 
 Be sure that I shall come here as often as you will 
 let me. You see, Mr. Bliss and I are working to- 
 gether. No not literary, exactly semi-scientific, 
 I should call it work that must be finished soon, 
 and as Mr. Bliss is under orders to keep to the 
 country during the heated term, it will doubtless 
 fall to my pleasant lot to come out to him." 
 
 " Why ! why ! I should never have dreamed that 
 you were in a doctor's care, Mr. Bliss," exclaimed 
 Mr. McClure. (Nor should I, was my mental 
 comment. ) " You look so thoroughly well. I 
 hope you find that the Winton air is benefiting 
 you?" 
 
 " It is all, and more, than I hoped for," I an- 
 swered truthfully; and I assured him that my 
 trouble was a mere nothing, a tendency to heart 
 weakness being my chief difficulty a remark that 
 brought a sharp glance from Kilbourne, but ap- 
 peared to leave my host and his fair granddaughter 
 in doubt as to my seriousness. 
 
 But Kilbourne had the last words with Dolly, and 
 before he left he had extracted from the old gentle-
 
 THE VOICE OF BEELZEBUB 117 
 
 man an invitation to spend the afternoon and even- 
 ing at Red Gables on the following Sunday. 
 
 When we were on the highroad, Kilbourne drew 
 my arm through his. 
 
 " You look weary, lad," he said. " A sick man 
 should be abed by this hour." 
 
 " Hang your humor, Kilbourne ! Suppose we 
 change the subject ? " 
 
 " Certainly. What charming people, the Mc- 
 Clures. Let me thank you for putting me in the 
 way to see more of them permitting me to ask 
 myself up again, you know." 
 
 " Oh, well, you 're welcome ! " 
 
 " Sounds cordial ! I 'm accustomed, however, to 
 contained expression on the part of your excellency ; 
 
 I know therefore that you mean Holy smoke ! 
 
 Is that one of the novelties you offer visitors ? " 
 
 A cry broke upon the air, not loud at first, but 
 penetrating, and so unusual as to be unclassifiable. 
 Was it of rage or of pain ? Or was it a laugh ? It 
 rose, trembled and broke; and it was not repeated. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " I cried. " Can Gaspard have 
 gone suddenly mad ? " 
 
 We hastened up the drive, our eyes fixed on a 
 glimmer of light that flitted from room to room on 
 the ground floor of the villa. When we reached the 
 portico entrance we found Gaspard on the other side 
 of the screen door, a lamp in one hand, a cocked 
 pistol in the other. 
 
 " You heard it, m'sieus ; zee vat it vaz ? 
 zee laugh, zee cry? A cra-zie homme I thought I 
 vould see."
 
 118 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Where was it, this noise ? " I asked. 
 
 " Ici. In zis ve'y maison, m'sieu." 
 
 " Are you certain it was in the house ? " 
 
 " Oui, m'sieu, here." 
 
 " Have you looked ? " 
 
 " All vhere zis chambre, zat chambre, up zee 
 stairs, down zee stair; oui, all vhere. Zere vas no 
 one, m'sieu. It was zee voice of Beel-ze-bub; it 
 could be no other ! Or of zee dead ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " I cried sharply. If at this late 
 day Gaspard were to get notions of the supernatural 
 into his head I should, indeed, have a fine time. 
 
 " Come," said Kilbourne, taking the lamp from 
 Gaspard and instructing him to light the one that 
 hung in the hall. " Let us see for ourselves. Bet- 
 ter get your revolver, Bliss," he added in an under- 
 tone. It took but a moment to act upon his 
 suggestion. 
 
 " Gaspard tells me that the house is locked ex- 
 cept for this door, and he will stay by it until we 
 return," said Kilbourne. " With your permission 
 we will lock every room as we leave it Have you 
 a key ring ? " 
 
 I produced one and we went through the house 
 room after room, not omitting the attic and cellar, 
 looking under beds, behind bureaus and in boxes and 
 closets. Everything was in place, and save for our 
 own footsteps and the ticking of a clock, everything 
 was as silent as a desert Then we made a detour 
 of the grounds, but we returned no wiser than we 
 went. 
 
 " It is probably not worth while to look for foot-
 
 prints/' remarked Kilbourne. " The ground is too 
 dry to take a light impression, and no sane person 
 would think of moving on the crunching gravel 
 when there is so much sod." 
 
 " You think, then, it was a sane person ? " I asked 
 foolishly, and was rewarded by a contemptuous 
 glance from the corner of my friend's eye. 
 
 " It seems to me it would be wise for you and 
 Gaspard to go down to the cottage and see that all 
 is well there," he said as we reached the house. " I 
 will remain here, with your pistol, if you please, 
 and that lamp, Gaspard, until you return." 
 
 The cottage was in darkness. I roused the Hors- 
 fords, however, and learned that Mrs. Horsford was 
 herself and not responsible for the noise and that 
 it had not been heard down there, and Gaspard and 
 I returned to the house. 
 
 " Ten to one you '11 find another warning in the 
 morning," prophesied Kilbourne, stepping into my 
 room an hour later as we were preparing for bed. 
 
 " You think that the cry came from the warner ? " 
 I asked with attempted wit. 
 
 " Aye ; there is some one who has sad need of 
 getting you from Overlook, and when you find him 
 you will know who sent the anonymous notes, and, 
 perhaps, who killed the old man Somhers." 
 
 " But where does he stay, Kilbourne 2 " 
 
 " You have me there. Jove ! if it were n't for 
 that Milbrath, I 'd go into this thing with a relish. 
 You have some very unusual and interesting feat- 
 ures to work upon, lad, and I envy you. There is 
 one thing that you can count upon," he went on
 
 120 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 after a pause. " If a warning is left here to-night 
 the one who leaves it had a pass key, or " 
 
 "Yes, or?" 
 
 Kilbourne's eyes twinkled mischievously. 
 
 " That Gaspard has spotted the man ' Beel- 
 ze-bub!'"
 
 HTTTTON GOSSIPS 
 
 ON the following morning Murray Kilbourne left 
 Winton a disappointed man in one particular. 
 He had hoped to find a warning, and there was 
 none. 
 
 " My theory is the same, nevertheless," he de- 
 clared stoutly. " Find who uttered that cry and 
 you will find the author of your anonymous 
 communications, and, probably, who murdered 
 Somhers." 
 
 " Remain, Kilbourne, and help me find him." 
 
 Instantly Kilbourne's manner of alert interest 
 changed to one of indifference. 
 
 " There 's nothing about the case that attracts 
 me," he said languidly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! You spoke differently last night. 
 Be frank with yourself to-day and admit that it is 
 only that you have a prejudice against young 
 Milbrath." 
 
 Kilbourne shrugged his gaunt shoulders. 
 
 " As you will. Let it be understood, however, 
 that my return at the end of the week will have 
 nothing to do with the case." 
 
 " Very well. You need not distress yourself lest 
 I forget. I will trouble you with no further 
 details."
 
 122 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Kilbourne stared at me meditatively, but made 
 no comment then. 
 
 " I hope you '11 have more charity in your heart 
 for me by Saturday," he said soberly at parting. 
 " I don't mean to be such a bad fellow and a selfish 
 lout. It 's no doubt a pity that the Lord gave me 
 instinct. I can't see that the results of my pre- 
 science are usually much to my advantage, if to 
 anybody's." 
 
 That declaration, so lamentably true, rang in my 
 ears as with abstracted eyes I watched the train 
 until it rounded the curve and vanished into the 
 marshland. 
 
 Then I turned to find myself again the only pas- 
 senger on the platform and the station master stand- 
 ing in the doorway, his face wearing the same ex- 
 pression of shrewd curiosity I had observed on it 
 the evening of my arrival. 
 
 " Howdy ? " he said cordially, touching his cap. 
 " Your frien' got an early start." 
 
 I assented. 
 
 "N' Yo'k?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Gol ! It '11 be derned hot there to-day ! Live 
 there?" 
 
 " Most of the time. He will be out to see me 
 again soon. Winton goes ahead of New York at 
 this season." 
 
 "You bet your life! I s'ppose you're enji'- 
 ing yourself up to Overlook?" Button's blue 
 eyes brimmed over with curiosity as he put this 
 question.
 
 BUTTON GOSSIPS 123 
 
 " I would not exchange it for any other place 
 that I know of." 
 
 " Hum ! That must be sayin' a good deal/' 
 dryly. " When you come I thought you 'd be re- 
 turnin' about now." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " W-all, I thought you was here on biz'ness 
 that would n't take long, for one reason. I did n't 
 take much stock in what you had to say about rentin* 
 the place. Say, sit down a while on that bench. 
 It 'a a purty nice lookout and comfort'ble enough 
 till the sun gets over the high mark." 
 
 I promptly accepted the invitation, and we seated 
 ourselves under the bow window of the ticket office 
 where we could hear the click of the telegraph 
 instrument. 
 
 " There 's another train along 'n about half an 
 hour, an' then I can close up shop an' go home till 
 about noon. 'T ain't safe to be away when the 
 machine in there 's liable to talk." 
 
 He declined with a nod the cigar I held out. 
 " A pipe 's the only thing that puts me right with 
 the world," he said. He filled a clay specimen and 
 puffed at it somewhat surreptitiously, prepared to 
 dispose of it on the instant of another arrival. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Curious, ain't it," he remarked presently, 
 " how things come 'round a man's way ? Now, when 
 I was a little chap I 1'arned how to work and read 
 that little talkin' machine in there just fer the fun 
 of it and, w-all, because, too, I was crazy sot about 
 everythin' that had t' do with railroads. Tele-
 
 124 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 graphs, and railroads, too, for that matter, was rare 
 things in them days up in Vermont where I come 
 from. Know / lived up to Overlook once ? " 
 
 " No. When was that ? " 
 
 " Just six years ago last June it was I left. I 
 used to take hull charge of the grounds, and the 
 sunken gardens was my pride, now I tell you. The 
 house we had was tore down when old Mr. Somhers 
 put on the library. He let all the help go that year 
 but Arms, who was farmer then." Hutton paused 
 to meditate. " That was the year people over town 
 way would have it Mr. Somhers was crazy. You 
 see he got workmen from Boston, or somewhere, to 
 do his job. That was what started folks a-talkin'. 
 An', then, when he said nobody must come to Over- 
 look till the hull work was done, that put some of 
 the finishin' touches on. He said there was din-i- 
 mite aroun' an' he would n't have folks blowed up. 
 Nobody just b'lieved that was his real reason, 
 though, as before that he 'd been so liberal-like with 
 Overlook, lettin' anyone that wanted to go all over 
 the grounds. Then, when Job Peters an' his son 
 ventured to drive in there one evenin' and Mr, 
 Somhers flew into a fit about it, folks just knew he 
 was off." 
 
 " All this happened six years ago when he added 
 the wing that is now the library, you say ? Had the 
 house only one wing before then ? " 
 
 " That 's all ; the north un. Everybody thought 
 the house ware big enough fer them two just the 
 old man an' Harry as 't was, but Mr. Somhers 
 said that when the gals was switchin' about doin'
 
 HUTTOX GOSSIPS 125 
 
 their work he could n't hear himself think he was 
 that narvous an' he 'd build himself a room where 
 he 'd not hear everythin' a-goin' on." 
 
 " He got a fine room for his trouble. I dare say 
 you saw it when it was finished ? " 
 
 " No ; I never did that. You see I had a little 
 trouble with Arms before I left, an' I never thought 
 seein' that room inside ware wuth goin' to see him." 
 
 " I went to see him the other day, but he did n't 
 want to know me, it appeared, and turned me 
 down." 
 
 Button's eyes opened wide. 
 
 " He did ! " he cried in amazement. " Now, 
 that 's a new wrinkle fer Arms. He 's usually 
 mighty handy in takin' up with newcomers, though 
 Lord knows he 's grouchy enough most times with 
 his old cronies." He paused thoughtfully. " It 's 
 that five thousand maybe," he continued presently. 
 " You know, I 've always been surprised about that 
 leg'-a-cee, fer I know fer a fact old man Somhers 
 and him did n't get along good together for a long 
 time back hardly at all after the time Jim took 
 Harry over to O'Conner's saloon in Clintonville. 
 Gosh ! How upsot Mr. Somhers ware ! I heard a 
 little he said to Jim about that, an' I thought he 
 was crazy then." 
 
 " That must have been a long time ago." 
 
 " Oh, a matter 'f ten or 'leven years, I sh'd 
 s'ppose. I allers wondered why Mr. Somhers kept 
 Jim on the place arter that." 
 
 I wondered, too. That must have been in the 
 early years of Arms' reign at Overlook.
 
 126 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I said tentatively: 
 
 " His mother and sister must take Jim's ways 
 to heart; they seem to be nice women." 
 
 " Oh, Maggie an' the ol' woman 're all right, but 
 's fer seein' wrong in anythin' Jim does, that 's all 
 bosh. He 's so much better 'n the ol' one's old man 
 ware, accordin' to her tell, he 's an angel beside 
 him." 
 
 " There are two kinds of angels, I was taught." 
 
 Hutton looked at me shrewdly and laughed. At 
 that instant the telegraph instrument began to call 
 and at the same time a carriage drove up to the town 
 side of the station with a number of passengers for 
 the incoming train, and Hutton rose. 
 
 " You bet there air," he said wisely as he pocketed 
 his lighted pipe. " But angels who ha' tied up all 
 they 're s'pposed to have in one white house an' a 
 truck farm which they don't work enough to live 
 off 'f , yet have rolls o' bills an' no little ones, 
 neither to show aroun' an' spend every little 
 while, don't b'long to that class that 's s'pposed to 
 wear white robes and play on gold harps, now do 
 they?"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WHO IS LA COUE? 
 
 TTTJTTON'S gossip gave me food for a new 
 -*-*- train of thought as I jogged into the village 
 on my homeward trip. With the villagers I agreed, 
 that " din-i-mite " about was scarcely reason enough 
 for Mr. Somhers' strenuous objection to visitors at 
 the time the south wing was being constructed, but 
 his conduct in the Peters case convinced me that 
 if the old gentleman was mad, it was a madness 
 born of fear, and passed with the completion of 
 the addition. 
 
 Such a supposition led to but one conclusion: 
 that there was a secret in the construction of the 
 wing which was shared with him and the stranger 
 workmen only by Arms and, quite probably, by Mr. 
 Milbrath. That Milbrath should be a confidant 
 seemed natural, but why Arms alone of the five 
 servants ? Why were the others, as faithful and as 
 long in Mr. Somhers' service, dismissed and James 
 Arms retained ? A new hypothesis for Arms' pres- 
 ent conduct began to shape itself in my mind. 
 
 I was at the village post office by this time, and 
 found that the usual number of idle villagers 
 adorned the piazza. I joined the loungers and hap- 
 pened upon a scrap of information that I decided
 
 might be turned to use in straightening out the 
 tangled web I had in hand. 
 
 There was a mysterious stranger, it seemed, who, 
 according to rumor, called upon Mr. Somhers on the 
 day of the tragedy. A Beverly hackman of the 
 name of Jandyce averred that he had driven him 
 to the gates of Overlook. Mr. Jandyce's fare was 
 not, however, considered by the intelligent police 
 of Beverly County to be of sufficient importance 
 to look up, notwithstanding the emphatic assertion 
 of the house servants that no caller was admitted 
 by them to Overlook on the day of the murder. In- 
 deed, Mr. Jandyce was not called upon even to tell 
 his story to the coroner's jury, and my informer 
 surmised that the reason lay in Mr. Jandyce's ten- 
 dency to seek the sensational and to tell big yarns 
 when under the influence of liquor. 
 
 I could afford to pass over nothing that might 
 lead to a possible working theory. Therefore I sent 
 Gaspard to Beverly on Tuesday to interview Jan- 
 dyce. The man had moved to Milton, twenty miles 
 distant, to which place Gaspard followed. It re- 
 quired all of Gaspard's finesse and a fair-size bank 
 note to induce Jandyce to talk, for, with the cun- 
 ning of the ignorant, he became immediately sus- 
 picious that a stranger who was interested in his 
 story at that late day was trying to involve him in 
 some way. 
 
 My emissary obtained the information that the 
 man whom Jandyce brought to Overlook on that 
 twelfth of October was of medium height, in figure 
 not unlike Mr. Somhers and with a mustache, but
 
 WHO IS LA COTJK? 129 
 
 Jandyce could not recall of what color. His hat 
 was drawn well over his face and his chin was so 
 buried in his muffler (notwithstanding the season) 
 that Jandyce got little idea of his face. He left the 
 eastbound afternoon train at Beverly and entering 
 Jandyce's carriage gave an order to be driven to 
 Overlook. At the gates of Overlook, which he 
 seemed to know, he stopped the carriage and an- 
 nounced that he would walk the remaining dis- 
 tance. His voice was that of a gentleman and, 
 in the opinion of Jandyce, he was "used to 
 orderin'." 
 
 So much for the mysterious visitor to Overlook, 
 about whom I resolved to learn more, if possible, 
 for I believed that he existed outside the fertile im- 
 agination of Mr. Jandyce. I admitted, however, 
 that I was at loss how to proceed. But Fortune 
 smiled upon me, and lent a helping hand. 
 
 I was driving home from Beverly, where I had 
 been to consult the file of the Dial that contained 
 the records of the coroner's inquest following Mr. 
 Somhers' death, when I happened upon Dame Arms 
 plodding along on foot in the direction that I was 
 going. There was no footpath at that point and 
 she turned out of the road to let me pass. The 
 apple bloom in her withered face had turned to a 
 scarlet that was beaded with perspiration, but she 
 smiled cheerfully and her bright eyes took on a 
 look of recognition. 
 
 " Let me give you a lift, Mrs. Arms," I said as 
 I pulled up. " We seem to be bound in the same 
 direction." 
 
 9
 
 130 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 She accepted gratefully, and climbed into the 
 runabout nimbly, considering her age, laughing and 
 motioning me to sit back when I attempted to assist 
 her. 
 
 " Lor' ! but hit is 'ot ! " she remarked as we 
 drove on. 
 
 " How does it happen that you were tramping 
 the road so far from home on such a hot and dusty 
 day?" I asked. 
 
 " Well, I druv into town wi' Jim, but when we 
 got there 'e fell in wi' some cronies an' they all went 
 t' CHntonville, which meant all day, and happen all 
 night in town fur me or walk 'ome." 
 
 I felt my indignation rising against Mrs. Arms' 
 dutiful son, and I expressed it in words, and pretty 
 forcibly, perhaps. 
 
 " Jim do no' mean bad, sir," she said in a con- 
 ciliatory tone when I had done. " 'E only do no' 
 think. 'E ne'er beat me yet, nor Maggie, an' lor' ! 
 the ol' man ne'er come near withou' givin' one or 
 the other o' us a whack, hif not worse. An' more, 
 Jim 's a good boy wi' 'is money ; we ne'er want fur 
 nothin', Maggie nor me. Ho, no, I canrio' complain 
 o' my Jamie, sir." 
 
 I saw how useless was indignation against the 
 beloved " Jamie," and I envied a disposition that 
 could make so much of the good in a being and pass 
 over with such charity that which was evil. 
 
 My mind traveled back to my call at the Arms 
 cottage, and the reception given me by its lord and 
 master, to Maggie's apprehensive eyes, and to my 
 desire to know whether this family knew more of
 
 WHO IS LA COUE? 131 
 
 Mr. Somhers' death than the world believed them 
 to know. 
 
 " Did I mention the other day that I came very 
 near asking you to take me to board ? " I inquired, 
 stretching the truth to open the subject. 
 
 " Lor', no ! Ye ha' no' enough o' Hoverlook al- 
 ready ? " with a shrewd glance. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean now. But when I was 
 thinking of taking Overlook Mr. Milbrath sug- 
 gested that I might be more comfortable with you 
 than with only a man to look after my meals. He 
 thought you were still on the farm, I suppose." 
 
 " Well, it 's good you decided no' to come, sir, 
 unless ye were to be satisfied with Nannie 'Orsford's 
 cookin', fur Jamie 's put 'is foot down on my takin' 
 a boarder now an' again save 't is Mr. La Cour. 
 Says 'e 's got money enough to keep us all, an' 'e '11 
 no' 'ave me putterin' 'round. Lor' ! / canno' see 
 as another nor two 'd make much difference since 
 'e 's 'ere so much anyway." 
 
 " Mr. La Cour, you mean ? " 
 
 " Aye, sir, a crony o' Jim's an' a fine gentleman, 
 too, sir." 
 
 " A Winton man ? Or Beverly, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Ho, no ; from the city, sir. Ho ! Wot 'ave I 
 done!" 
 
 The tone was tragic, and involuntarily I drew 
 to a standstill as I looked about at the old woman. 
 Her face had regained its normal color, or was, in- 
 deed, a tone whiter than usual, and she was wring- 
 ing her hands in evident distress. 
 
 " Has something happened ? " I questioned.
 
 132 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " I shouldno' 'ave spoken about Mr. La Cour, sir, 
 an' I beg you to say nothin' about 'im to no 'un, 
 least of all to Jamie or Maggie. Will ye say ye will 
 no', sir?" 
 
 Here was something upon which I had not 
 counted. A mystery ! Had it anything to do with 
 Maggie's apprehensive eyes, with Jim's ungallant 
 behavior toward me, with the mystery that I was in 
 Winton to solve ? 
 
 " You need not feel distressed, Mrs. Arms," I 
 said after a second of rapid thought. " Maggie and 
 Jim shall not know that you have spoken, and as I 
 do not know Mr. La Cour I shall have no occasion 
 to mention his name in town." 
 
 " Nor to Master 'Arry ? " Mrs. Arms questioned 
 quickly, and added reflectively, " but 'e don' know 
 'im, so 't would make no 'arm nor no good there." 
 
 It seemed best to change the subject from La 
 Cour. 
 
 " You knew Mr. Milbrath for a good many years, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 " Sin' 'e were a lad, sir. A fine-faced lad 'e 
 were, too. It went 'ard wi' my feelin's, sir, when 
 they made out as 'e 'd killed the hold master." 
 
 " Surely you did not believe that he did it ? " 
 
 " Ho no, sir, not at first not at all, 'appen. But 
 Jamie says there can be na doo' about it, an' Jamie 
 should know, sir. 'E 'card wot were said in the 
 courtroom." 
 
 She looked at me questioningly at first, and as I 
 said nothing the expression gradually changed to a 
 quizzical look which seemed like the reflection of
 
 WHO IS LA COUK? 133 
 
 another thought. Perhaps she was recalling that she 
 had heard me called a detective. She might have 
 said more, but at that moment we came to the drive 
 that led from the road to the Arms' barn, and Mrs. 
 Arms became insistent that I should drive in and 
 stop for a while in the shade. 
 
 " Do, now," she said coaxingly, " an' Maggie 
 shall brew ye a nip o' tea to make ye cool." 
 
 So I turned the horse's head into the yard, and as 
 I did so Maggie, who was sitting upon the side 
 steps with another young woman, saw who it was 
 that was coming in. Instantly her light-hearted 
 expression changed to one of anxiety. Her com- 
 panion noticed the change and looked curiously from 
 Maggie to me and back to Maggie. 
 
 " What have I done to make your daughter afraid 
 of me?" I asked Mrs. Arms bluntly when Maggie 
 and her friend had departed to prepare the " nip o' 
 tea." 
 
 " Afraid o' ye, sir ! " cried Mrs. Arms in sur- 
 prise, and then looked into space and laughed a 
 little consciously. 
 
 " It is na that she 's afraid, sir," she said after 
 an instant, " but well, 'appen I might as well tell 
 ye. She 's got it shut in 'er 'ead, sir, that ye 're a 
 detective. I tol' ye she were different from any 
 gaerl I ever knew all narves an' fancies, an' 
 bein' the first to see the master a-lying dead, she 
 took the notion they 'd think she ha' killed 'im. 
 Why, she 's even afraid o' Mr. La Cour. Same rea- 
 son 's far 's I can make out, an' 'im ere all the time 
 lately."
 
 134 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I thought of the man to whom Maggie had taken 
 the big hat. 
 
 " Was Mr. La Cour here the other day when I 
 was here ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not when ye were here, but after. Lor' ! 'ere 
 comes Maggie with the tea. Not a word about 'im, 
 please , sir ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN ALLY GAINED 
 
 T LEFT the Arms cottage that afternoon with my 
 -- mind in a curious condition of conjecture and 
 question, and from the Overlook stable I went di- 
 rectly to the boathouse and thence upon the water, 
 a troll line trailing from the stern of my boat and 
 my thinking cap well adjusted. I pulled into the 
 channel and permitted the boat to drift as I turned 
 over in my mind and pieced together the bits of 
 evidence that had come to my notice in the past 
 week. 
 
 When I thought again of my troll line it was 
 more than an hour later, and a hasty examination 
 showed me that a large fish must have nibbled 
 freely at my bait so freely, indeed, that he had 
 carried it away, hook and all ! But I had tabulated 
 a few facts in my mind, and committed them to my 
 notebook. These are what they were: 
 
 1st. A secret in the building of the south wing. 
 
 2d. Jim Arms held power over Mr. Somhers before 
 erection of wing; therefore was not discharged with 
 other employees when wing was added. 
 
 3d. Same power over Mr. Somhers which kept 
 Arms at Overlook during construction of addition ex- 
 plains Mr. Somhers' legacy to the man. 
 
 4th. According to report on coroner's inquest in 
 Beverly Dial, James Arms " caught a ride " in a neigh-
 
 136 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 bor^s wagon into Beverly on the morning preceding 
 the tragedy at Overlook, and from there was seen to 
 board a train for Providence. Not proved where he 
 was at hour of murder, but, according to his oath, he 
 was on a train homeward bound between the hours of 
 five and six o'clock, and, reaching Beverly, he walked 
 home, arriving there about seven o'clock, shortly after 
 the body of Mr. Somhers was found. 
 
 5th. Maggie Arms knows, or suspects, who killed 
 Mr. Somhers, but has never confided facts, or fears, to 
 her mother unless the old dame is a mighty good 
 actress. 
 
 6th. Jim Arms harbors "gentleman" of whose 
 existence no one outside the family is supposed to 
 know, and who is, perhaps, the source of the ready 
 money which Jim is reputed to display and boast about. 
 
 So much for evidence. Now for query and 
 speculation. 
 
 What is the secret of the wing? What reason, 
 indeed, would a man of Mr. Somhers' character have 
 for a secret that could be shared only by his nephew, 
 for whom he was believed to cherish an aversion, and 
 a hired man whose reputation, at best, was shady? 
 Moreover, how could that hired man hold an axe, 
 figuratively speaking, over the head of a man so 
 upright as Peter Somhers? Although a retiring 
 man, his daily life was an open book, and his dis- 
 agreements with his nephew were the only features 
 of it worthy of criticism. 
 
 The " power " must, then, have been held on 
 some ground which Mr. Somhers' pride magnified 
 and which the world would have passed over with 
 little comment.
 
 AN ALLY GAINED 137 
 
 It was quite within the range of probability that 
 a time came when for some reason Jim Arms was in 
 danger of losing his legacy, his profitable berth at 
 Overlook, or both. Would he hesitate, in such cir- 
 cumstances, to put an end to his employer and thus 
 secure the legacy and, in all probability, prolong his 
 service at Overlook? From what I had seen and 
 heard of the man I could not doubt that he would 
 endeavor to protect his own interests at all hazards. 
 
 Granting so much, was it probable that disguised 
 he was the man Jandyce brought to Overlook ? In 
 build he might answer Jandyce's description, I was 
 not sure, but could he possibly assume the voice of 
 " a gentleman " and appear like one " used to 
 orderin' ? " 
 
 Granting, however, that Jim Arms was Jandyce's 
 fare, how had he gained admission to Overlook with- 
 out the knowledge of the servants ? Did that point 
 explain Maggie's conduct at the time of the crime 
 and her present apprehensiveness ? Had she ad- 
 mitted her brother to Overlook, whether recognized 
 by her at the time or not, and to save him had she 
 later sworn falsely that she admitted no one that 
 day and that all doors were locked ? 
 
 I had not yet fixed La Cour's place, that is, why 
 he was apparently in hiding when in Winton. The 
 thought ran through my mind that he was possibly 
 connected with the Somhers case, but I dismissed it, 
 after a little reflection, as improbable. More likely 
 he was a " gentleman crook " who had, by some 
 chance, fallen across Arms' path, and Arms, true to 
 himself, was compelling him to pay for silence. Of
 
 138 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 him I should try to learn more later, as well as of 
 the whereabouts of the workmen who constructed 
 the south wing. 
 
 In the meantime I had Horsford to deal with, 
 and as I tied my boat I resolved to act immediately 
 and force his allegiance or his enmity. As soon 
 as I had eaten my solitary supper, therefore, I 
 sent for Horsford and asked him pointedly what 
 it was he feared that I would learn. 
 
 " Me ? Fear you will learn, sir ? " he faltered 
 with an effort at surprise, but I could see in his 
 eyes that he had expected and feared this moment. 
 
 " Just so, Horsford." 
 
 " Wot could there be, sir ? You know my life, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I know what you have told me, and I know one 
 thing that you have never mentioned to me Mrs. 
 Horsford's love for drink. Is there anything else ? " 
 
 " You know that, sir ! You know it ! Ah ! you 
 'ave sent fur me to say you will get another man. I 
 'ave tol' 'er it would come to this, sir." Despair 
 was written on the man's face and sounded in his 
 voice. 
 
 " Is there no way to make her straighten up ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Only to keep her sister away, sir. She 's as good 
 a wife is Nannie as man could ask fur when she 
 lets speerets alone." 
 
 " Is there no way that you can suppress this 
 sister get her out of the way, I mean ? " 
 
 Horsford shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Nannie would no' 'ear to no' lettin' 'er come,
 
 AN ALLY GAINED 139 
 
 sir. The only way is to get 'er away from these 
 parts. Tom, 'er 'usban', 'as a place waiting in Min- 
 nesota, an' I wish to God 'e could get money enough 
 to go to it, sir ! " 
 
 I pondered for a moment 
 
 " See here, Horsford," I said presently. " I don't 
 wish to let you go if we can get on together. But 
 you must admit you 've not acted very friendly since 
 I came. If you 've got anything against me out with 
 it and I '11 see what I can do to make things right." 
 
 " There 's nothin' at all, sir, nothin'. 'T was only 
 Nannie's cups as made me fear you, sir," answered 
 Horsford earnestly. " But that hloomin' Frenchie," 
 he added with sudden warmth, " I canno' 'ave 'im 
 lingerin' about ! " 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 " If Gaspard is your worst enemy, don't trouble," 
 I said. " I can promise that henceforth he will 
 transact all his business at the cottage with you. 
 And now about that sister. If I advance the money 
 to get her and her husband to Minnesota, do you 
 think I shall ever see it again ? " 
 
 " I '11 promise you that, sir," Horsford cried 
 eagerly. " Tom 's a honest man an' more, I '11 
 see that it 's made good to you in time." 
 
 So we arranged that matter to the satisfaction of 
 both of us, it seemed ; and, as I dismissed Horsford, 
 who was quite rejuvenated with relief and pleasure 
 at the turn affairs had taken, I remarked casually: 
 
 " I called upon your cousin, Mr. Arms, the other 
 day, but he appeared less willing to be friendly than 
 you. Is he afraid of me ? "
 
 140 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Instantly Horsford's pleasant expression van- 
 ished, and his eyes narrowed threateningly. 
 
 " 'E 's no' t' be minded, sir," he said, as if try- 
 ing to be just to Arms, "but there! I 'ave been 
 keepin' from you," he added in a sudden burst. 
 " I '11 stand by you, sir, now that you 've been good 
 to me an' mine, an' Jim Harms, who ne'er did me 
 aught but ill, cousin nor no cousin, may go t' the 
 de'il ! I beg your pardon, sir. 'T is so I feel about 
 'im, 'owever, as them who knows us will tell you, sir." 
 
 I could have shouted with joy at that moment, 
 for I knew that I had found an ally in Joseph Hors- 
 ford and that his acquaintance with his cousin's 
 habits and past would soon be my knowledge, if I 
 played my cards skillfully. 
 
 " What is the matter with Mr. Arms ? " I asked 
 as unconcernedly as possible. 
 
 " 'E 'a a bad lot through an' through, that 's all, 
 sir. He tried to get my Nannie away from me first 
 tellin' 'er 'ow 'e 'ad a stan'-in wi' Mr. Somhers 
 and would be a rich man before long ; that was when 
 we first come over, sir, afore Mr. Somhers was 
 killed. Then, when 'e saw 'e could no' get 'er that 
 way 'e brought 'er speerets, which 'e were quick to 
 find were 'er weakness. When I found out that 
 which were after we come to Hoverlook I gave 
 'im a thrashing, 'f he were my kin, sir. I 'ad the 
 best of 'im all 'round, height and weight and muscle, 
 fur all 'e is so broad, an' when I 'd done wi' 'im 'e 
 were no' much to see, sir. 'E let Nannie alone after 
 that, but 'e 's got no more love in 'is 'art fur me nor 
 I 'ave for 'im."
 
 AN ALLY GAINED 
 
 " Who is the man who stays with Anns ? " I 
 asked presently. 
 
 Horsford looked puzzled. 
 
 " I 've no' 'eard of a man stayin' wi' 'im since 
 Mr. Coles was there last summer." 
 
 Mr. Coles was the detective Milbrath had sent 
 there. 
 
 " I was at the cottage for a moment this after- 
 noon. I met Mrs. Arms on the road and gave her a 
 lift in the runabout. She returned the compliment 
 by giving me some tea and fruit biscuits. She seems 
 to be a kindly old soul." 
 
 " She is that, sir." 
 
 " And the girl would be pretty if her eyes were 
 not so scared." 
 
 A quicker man would have perceived before this 
 my purpose in all this talk, but Horsford, I found, 
 was too simple-hearted and perhaps too heavy-witted 
 to detect a double purpose. 
 
 " 'Appen I do no' understand what you mean by 
 Maggie's eyes being scared," he said. 
 
 " Perhaps they only look that way when I 'm 
 around. She acts afraid of me, too." 
 
 Horsford regarded me with question, but made 
 no comment. 
 
 " Do you know why she does ? " I asked. 
 
 " I think, sir, it must be because she 'as an id-ee 
 in the first, as I did, sir, that you were a detective." 
 
 " But what difference should that make to her ? 
 She has done nothing to be taken for." 
 
 Silence. 
 
 " Has she ? " I queried.
 
 142 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Ho, no, sir ! Maggie is a good gaerl. But she 'a 
 been ne'er the same sin' Mr. Somhers were killed." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I 'm not certain, sir. 'Er mother says it were 
 the start it gave 'er narves, but sometimes " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Sometimes I think I 'ope I may trust these 
 things I say to your keepin', sir I think as Jirfi is 
 hup again' the law somehow all the money 'e 'as 
 at times, and the rest an' 'appen, sir, Maggie's 
 narves be fur 'im." 
 
 When I found myself again alone that evening 
 I drew forth my notebook and in shorthand made 
 this addition to my tabulation of the afternoon: 
 
 Arms boasted a few months previous to Mr. Som- 
 hers' death that he would be a " rich man before long." 
 
 Horsford proved Arms to be a scoundrel. 
 
 Horsford believes that Maggie may suspect her 
 brother of being " up again " the law somehow. 
 
 I fell asleep planning how to secure Horsford's 
 cooperation in my work without revealing my mis- 
 sion to him; and how to get his frankest opinion 
 about the mysterious stranger; the probability of 
 Arms having possessed a secret of Mr. Somhers' 
 life; and the chance that the south wing held a 
 mystery. 
 
 I had relinquished the theory that Horsford was 
 in any way connected with the warnings, or would 
 know of them.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 INVOLVING MILBEATH 
 
 rilHE next day I drove from my usual morning 
 -*- visit to the post office directly to the Arms cot- 
 tage, ostensibly to inquire whether I had dropped 
 a certain letter there, in reality to surprise Mr. 
 La Cour if he chanced to be there; also to see 
 whether Arms would appear any more friendly 
 toward me. It had occurred to me that his especially 
 disagreeable manner on the occasion of my previous 
 call might be due to La Cour's proximity. I came 
 away with a conviction that such was the case. 
 There was no stranger in evidence, and Arms, who 
 was lounging on the side porch, was grudgingly 
 amiable. 
 
 " 'Appen ye 're used t' the ghosts at Hoverlook ? " 
 he remarked with a leer. 
 
 " I .'ve seen none yet," I. answered, regarding him 
 steadily, my mind running to the warnings and to 
 that weird cry. I should have to abandon the no- 
 tion that this man wrote the warnings. He was 
 cunning, no doubt, but not clever. But did he know 
 of them ? He continued to stare at me sidewise with 
 an impudent smile. 
 
 " So?" he said lazily. "Well, they be there 
 or it be there for I 've seen it with my own eyes,
 
 144 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 An' see 'ere, I '11 just give ye a friendly tip that it 
 is no' to be laughed at." 
 
 " You appear to be laughing now at the re- 
 membrance." 
 
 "Aye. 'Appen 't is no' the same to remember 's 
 to see, 's 'appen ye understand." 
 
 " Whose ghost is it ? " 
 
 Arms looked at me intently with a curious length- 
 ening of his under jaw. 
 
 " I did no' stop to ask it, nor no more will ye. 
 When ye see it I shall expect to 'ear that Hoverlook 
 is to let again." 
 
 " Then you '11 expect a long time ! " I snapped. 
 " I 'm here to remain as long as I please, and no 
 visitation is going to budge me. If it becomes nec- 
 essary I '11 have out the whole state militia to pro- 
 tect me, but stay I will ! " 
 
 "The de'il ye will!" drawled Arms. "Well, 
 I'm no' trying to make ye quit's I know of, so 
 ye'r blazes is wasted on me. I know ye'r brave 
 's a lion, of course. I sh'd e'en s'ppose young Lord 
 'Arry 'd be 'ere to 'elp ye keep gay." 
 
 He flung this at me with another impudent leer 
 which passed instantly into a curious fixity of 
 glance, and I took it to mean that my purpose in 
 Winton was no secret to him. 
 
 " Mr. Milbrath is in Europe," I said with a 
 mental modification of the statement, "or his com- 
 pany would be agreeable." 
 
 " Sure it would. Murderers are great fur their 
 jolly ways, I 've been tol'. But 'e 's in Europe is 'e ? 
 Boats go quicker 'n they did when I come hover,
 
 INVOLVING MILBKATH 145 
 
 it seems, for I saw Lord 'Airy 'ere last week, nor 
 my name is no' James Harmes. That beard o' his 
 do no' count fur nothin' with me." 
 
 I felt as if I had received a blow. 
 
 " What day ? " I asked involuntarily. 
 
 " Ho ! It 's news to ye, is hit ? Well, it is kind 
 o' me to tell ye'r lordship, but I will. 'Appen it 
 were the first day ye come 'ere, or the next." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In a private way as we both used to know an' 
 which I am no' tellin' or ye 'd know as much. See ? 
 But 'e did no' see me." 
 
 I turned away from Arms and jumped into the 
 runabout, angry, hurt and puzzled, but at the same 
 instant it occurred to me that this might be merely 
 one of Arms' tricks. 
 
 I turned and looked at him as I reached for the 
 reins. He was grinning under his week's growth 
 of heavy black beard. 
 
 " Good day," I said stiffly, and should have 
 started, had not Dame Arms at that moment ap- 
 peared at the door. 
 
 " Ye 're sure not a-goin' wi'out a taste o' the goose- 
 berry wine ! " she exclaimed. " It 's extra good this 
 year." 
 
 So I tarried while I disposed of the old soul's 
 offering. 
 
 I was more upset by Arms' revelation than I liked 
 to admit to myself. While confident that he had not 
 written the warnings himself, I was not so certain 
 that he had not delivered them. Could they be 
 from Milbrath, after all ? And was it possible that 
 
 10
 
 146 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 some, at least, of Arms' ready money was pay for 
 their delivery ? All that Kilbourne had said or inti- 
 mated flooded back to my memory to poison my 
 mind. I would have parted with a week's salary to 
 have had Harrison Milbrath within reach. 
 
 In this pessimistic and uncomfortable state of 
 mind I lunched, and then lounged out to the portico. 
 I was utterly unfitted for successful work, and the 
 cool breeze from the bay whispered of diversion on 
 the dancing waters. I thought of Dolly, and im- 
 mediately I wondered whether Mr. McClure en- 
 joyed boating. If I asked Dolly to go out with 
 me would I have to include the grandpater ? 
 
 I found Mr. McClure stretched on a rattan couch 
 on the veranda. Beside him sat Dolly, smoothing 
 his thin locks from his forehead with a touch so 
 tender and an expression so affectionate that gladly 
 would I have taken whatever ailed him to have been 
 the subject of her solicitude. She turned slightly 
 upon my approach and, with a smile, laid her fore- 
 finger warningly upon her lips. But Mr. McClure 
 was not sleeping. He opened his eyes and seeing 
 me made an effort, quickly suppressed by Dolly, 
 to rise. 
 
 " See to what tyranny I am subjected," he 
 grumbled cheerfully. " My headache has vanished 
 under the influence of magic fingers, but I am not 
 permitted to ' rise to the occasion.' ' 
 
 " Grandfather has been a very sick man to-day," 
 Dolly informed me gravely. " He is subject to these 
 attacks, but afterward he never will admit that they 
 are anything. You will have to address your con-
 
 INVOLVING MILBKATH 147 
 
 versation to me, Mr. Bliss, for I don't mean to let 
 grandfather open his mouth for a word." 
 
 " I 'am merely a bird of passage," I answered, 
 " and am not to be persuaded to address conversation 
 to anyone on land for more than five minutes. The 
 waves call me, and I ran over to beg you and Mr. 
 McClure to let me take you rowing." 
 
 In Dolly's mind there was not the remotest in- 
 tention of accepting my invitation. I knew that 
 much at once, although a polite and convincing ex- 
 cuse sprang to her lips. But Mr. McClure changed 
 the day by his prompt expression of pleasure. 
 
 " Just the thing ! " he cried. " Dolly has not had 
 her usual outing to-day. I will leave her wholly to 
 your care, Mr. Bliss, while I sleep off my recent re- 
 minder of mortal frailty. Run along, Dolly." 
 
 " Here is evidence of my value as a nurse," de- 
 clared Dolly playfully. " In three short hours my 
 patient has sufficiently recovered to wish me away ! " 
 
 She rescued the ubiquitous sunbonnet from ob- 
 livion beneath a scattering of papers on the veranda 
 table, and permitted it to dangle by its strings from 
 her hand. 
 
 " Au revoir, grandfather, dear," she said finally. 
 " Since you are sending me away from you, you 
 must spend every minute in sleep." 
 
 She tucked a linen duster about the old man's 
 long and lank figure, and, stooping quickly, im- 
 printed a kiss upon his cheek, her mood changing in 
 an instant to maternal tenderness. 
 
 He smiled and patted her sunny hair. 
 
 "My little Dolly," he murmured. And did he
 
 148 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 add, or was it only in my imagination that I heard : 
 "My poor Dolly!" 
 
 " Since it is decreed that I am to be a helpless 
 ladye fair, I might as well bow gracefully to the in- 
 evitable," commented Dolly, after lowering herself 
 into the green and red boat before I could reach her 
 side at the pier. And she proceeded to establish 
 herself indolently in the stern. " Please bring out 
 your good cushions, Mr. Bliss. I don't like these 
 excelsior things." 
 
 " This establishment is a bachelor's ; therefore 
 uncomfortable," I answered. " There are no other 
 cushions, but I '11 give you my coat." 
 
 " Thanks. But a coat would n't suit me at all 
 since I know there are other cushions. Have n't 
 you explored the cupboards in your boathouse ? " 
 
 " They are locked," I ventured, knowing full well 
 what a young woman of Miss Dolly's stamp would 
 think of such an answer, " and I have n't the key. 
 I will get some from the house. You will please 
 excuse me for a minute." 
 
 " But I won't excuse you. There are plenty of 
 cushions in our boathouse." 
 
 " Then with your permission I will bring those. 
 Is the door unlocked ? " 
 
 " Quite likely but I don't want those cushions. 
 On second thought I don't want any but these, which 
 are far more comfortable than I dreamed." 
 
 I marveled at the inconsistencies of the feminine 
 mind. 
 
 " Very well," I said as I pounded the maligned 
 cushions into a reclining seat for my lady, " then
 
 INVOLVING MILBRATH 149 
 
 we '11 make a start if you say so. You '11 lose that 
 sunbonnet in the water if you 're not careful." 
 
 " How dreadful that would be ! To avoid such 
 a calamity, I '11 put it on." She tied the ends of 
 the strings at her throat and permitted the bonnet to 
 hang on her shoulders in the fashion that was be- 
 coming familiar to me. 
 
 " You don't know, perhaps, that the reason I 
 wear this absurdity so constantly," she smiled mis- 
 chievously, " is because my ' complexion ' is being 
 preserved for a great event. According to my god- 
 mother I 'm to be next winter what old Mr. Hutton 
 calls a ' sas-t-ty ' girl. She says " Dolly's face 
 was very demure " that I 'm cut out for one." 
 
 " Really?" I remarked, regarding her with amuse- 
 ment, but with a note, nevertheless, of the resolute 
 small chin. " I fancy you would be rather difficult 
 to 'cut out' into anything you did n't care to be." 
 
 " And you think that I don't care for a gay time 
 such as other girls have ? " 
 
 The music of her voice changed suddenly with 
 the last words, and the pathos that crept in moved 
 me strangely and set me wondering. 
 
 " I think you will enjoy anything that you make 
 up your mind to enjoy, whether it be ballroom or 
 baseball. But if you wish my opinion as to whether 
 it is the life you would most enjoy, I might as well 
 answer at once. No ; decidedly no." 
 
 A curious expression played across the girl's 
 features. 
 
 " Please tell me why," she said. 
 
 " For one thing, you are far more serious-minded
 
 150 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 than you would have the world believe," I answered, 
 seizing at random from the impressions formed by 
 my first study of the girl. 
 
 " Indeed ! " mocked Dolly, but she flushed 
 consciously. 
 
 " And," I continued, " you are happier when 
 ministering to the comforts of others; a frivolous, 
 butterfly existence would soon weary you past en- 
 durance, if it attracts you even now." 
 
 Dolly smiled without looking at me. 
 
 " It looks as if godmother Foster were doomed to 
 another disappointment," she admitted, " for I be- 
 lieve that you are right. Mrs. Foster is the only 
 one interested in the matter, you see, and when she 
 gets to town her clubs and missions and receptions 
 and whist demand so much attention that I have 
 only to coax grandfather to write a nice letter to her 
 to the effect that another year's work is really needed 
 to make my music worth while, and back comes an 
 answer that avers that by another winter I shall be 
 quite hopeless as a debutante, but, it is to be hoped, 
 still presentable; and inasmuch as Mr. Foster and 
 she realize again that America is impossible in 
 winter and will start for Egypt, immediately after 
 the holidays, it is, perhaps, as well, as grandfather 
 suggested, that I apply myself to music for another 
 year." Then the shadows that clouded Dolly's eyes 
 a moment earlier fled before the contagion of her 
 rippling laugh. 
 
 " There ! " I cried, " I am constrained to say 
 'didn't I tell you so?'" 
 
 Nevertheless it seemed to me curious that a girl
 
 INVOLVING MILBRATH 151 
 
 like Dolly, endowed by nature with the qualities 
 that make social success, should find no fascination 
 in the thought of a fashionable life, and I expressed 
 myself to that effect. 
 
 Dolly, gracefully lolling in the stern of the boat, 
 colored vividly and adjusted her skirts with elab- 
 orate care before she answered. 
 
 " Well, you see, I was not trained to care. A life 
 in the country with dear old granddad does not tend 
 to things frivolous. Perhaps I should see things 
 differently if he had not needed me when I left 
 school. Then I felt a wee bit cheated, I '11 admit. 
 Now it does n't seem to matter I must be getting 
 old." 
 
 " As old as Methuselah," I agreed banteringly. 
 But the pathos in the girl's last words troubled me. 
 Again her voice was full of unshed tears, and her 
 eyes, as she lifted them to gaze across the water 
 took on an expression of melancholy that I had 
 noticed in the train. Yes, assuredly, her young 
 life had seen trouble, and the wound it had made, 
 while hidden from the world, still stung at times. 
 
 " As old as Methuselah," I repeated, " come to 
 earth again ! The first time I saw you in Winton 
 I thought that you might be as much as twelve ! " 
 
 Dimples danced suddenly in Dolly's cheeks. 
 
 " When you tumbled into the water you reminded 
 me of my twelve-year-old cousin Nan. But you 're 
 not Nan by a mile. From that hour I called you 
 Undine." 
 
 " I hope that I have a soul." 
 
 " No one would question it and a heart."
 
 " I don't wear it on my sleeve, I hope ? " 
 
 " Sometimes it is there. I think Mr. McClure 
 could pluck it off, and I 'm certain Prince Charm- 
 ing can when he comes." 
 
 Dolly raised her eyes to mine with an expression 
 of such surprise that for an instant I thought I must 
 have hit a truth unwittingly. Then she laughed 
 infectiously. 
 
 " Have you ever happened to see it ? " she de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Several times, but it was clear that it had not 
 presented itself for me. It was out undisguised and 
 fearless the first time I saw you the very first 
 time." 
 
 " That first time ! When I distinguished myself 
 and was christened ' Undine,' I suppose ? " 
 
 " When you journeyed from New Haven to Win- 
 ton last week." 
 
 A puzzled wrinkle drew Dolly's straight brows. 
 
 " When you were on the same train as I ? " 
 
 " It was my pleasure, mademoiselle," I answered 
 in elaborate impersonation of Gaspard, " and my 
 sorry fate to be seen and immediately forgotten." 
 
 " Dear me ! What a pity I did not know. 
 Grandpa could have taken you up in the phaeton 
 when he met me. I dare say you had to go up with 
 ' Hank ' Hutton ? " 
 
 " Hank Hutton it was." 
 
 " And Hank 's so afraid of Overlook after dark, 
 too!" 
 
 "Doubtless he shares the common superstition 
 concerning the place. It doesn't seem possible,
 
 INVOLVING MILBRATH 153 
 
 however, that such preposterous notions can last. 
 See how lovely it looks now with the shadows on it." 
 
 We were well across the bay by this time, and 
 from our point of view the neck of land on which 
 Winton lay appeared uninhabited, save by giant 
 trees and a church spire which were etched upon a 
 cloud-fleeced sky; but back on the bluff rose Over- 
 look, gray and quiet in her lovely grounds too 
 beautiful, by far, to be shrouded in a veil of mystery. 
 
 Dolly looked, as I bade, but reluctantly, and the 
 expression, which changed her to a serious woman, 
 again deepened in her eyes. 
 
 " You know that the villagers call it the ' Place 
 of Silence ' ? " she remarked. 
 
 " I have heard it referred to by that name. Sug- 
 gestive, is it not, but rough on the place ? The fact 
 that it is now occupied may help to dislodge some 
 of the moss of superstition (to be fanciful) that has 
 been flourishing on it ; and when the perpetrator of 
 that atrocious crime is finally landed it ought to 
 recover its former prestige."
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII 
 
 DOLLY REVEALS A SECRET 
 
 I HAD not hoped to stir Dolly to a confidence. It 
 had not, indeed, occurred to me that the mat- 
 ter which had brought me to Winton would have 
 for her any greater interest than would the myste- 
 rious death of any respected neighbor. My words 
 were idle, save, perhaps, for the hope of pleasing 
 her, for the more sensible Wintonites could but de- 
 plore the unhappy repute into which their choicest 
 estate had fallen. 
 
 To my surprise, however, Dolly leaned forward 
 and looked directly into my eyes with a grave, un- 
 wavering glance. 
 
 " I would give everything I have in the world, 
 Mr. Bliss, to know who killed Mr. Somhers," she 
 said with a quiet vehemence that startled me. " You 
 know that it was not Harry Milbrath ? " 
 
 I thought of Jim Arms' insinuations, of my 
 doubts and suspicions of the morning. But, after 
 all, I had not, even then, believed for a moment 
 that Milbrath was the man I sought. 
 
 " Yes," I agreed. " Whoever did it I believe that 
 it was not Harry Milbrath." 
 
 " Or done with his knowledge," persisted Dolly. 
 
 " Or done with his knowledge."
 
 DOLLY KEVEALS A SECKET 155 
 
 Dolly's eyes suddenly glistened with the moisture 
 of unshed tears, and, in spite of a brave effort to 
 smile, she had to turn away for a moment. 
 
 When she spoke again there was a note of con- 
 fiding appeal in her voice. 
 
 " Mr. Bliss," she said, " has it occurred to you 
 that the criminal's motive was to injure Harry? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, realizing that she must know 
 why I was in Winton, " that possibility has been one 
 of my theories, but I can find no motive strong 
 enough. Mr. Milbrath seems to have had no ene- 
 mies up to the time of the tragedy." 
 
 " Then you do not know of Jim Arms ? " 
 
 The start I gave rocked the boat. 
 
 " I do know Arms. That is, I Ve spoken with 
 him twice, but I have found no evidence that he 
 was Mr. Milbrath's enemy." 
 
 " He was," said Dolly with conviction, and her 
 cheeks became very pink, " and he is. At the cor- 
 oner's inquest he swore to the most damaging evi- 
 dence, and there was only a little of it such a very 
 little of it true. You know what Tennyson says 
 
 / / 
 
 about a lie that is all a lie ; it can be met and fought 
 with outright. l But a lie that is part a truth is a 
 harder matter to fight.' That was the case with the 
 testimony of Jim Arms ; only the truthful part was 
 so exceedingly small. Now that he has convicted 
 Harry to a living death he is not content. He dares 
 to sneer at him and to say that he sees him sneaking 
 around here at times." 
 
 " And in that he lies ? " I asked eagerly. 
 
 Dolly did not look at me. Her eyes were upon
 
 156 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 her wet hand magnified in the water. And she did 
 not answer. 
 
 " It is a lie ? " I asked again, and felt my heart 
 chilling. 
 
 " It is not all the truth. Harry never was or 
 could be a sneak. But yes ; he has been in Winton 
 and at Red Gables between trains a few times this 
 summer. He thought himself unrecognized. Oh, 
 Mr. Bliss, I should not have told you this ! It can- 
 not help you, and Grandfather knows, of course, 
 but the village must not, must not. I hope you 
 understand ? " 
 
 I thought that I understood. At that moment 
 there was no question in my mind as to the story 
 those scarlet cheeks and lowered eyelids, and sweet, 
 tremulous lips betrayed. I only wondered that I 
 had not thought of it before ; the most natural story 
 in the world : a boy and girl love that had not died 
 with the passing of time, with trouble, or with dis- 
 grace that had come to one of them. And suddenly 
 I knew whose boyish face it was in the little heart- 
 shaped locket that I had found, and which was 
 Dolly's constant companion. 
 
 That moment also brought to me another revela- 
 tion a glimpse of my own heart, and a recogni- 
 tion of the thrust that it had just received. 
 
 The oars swung in their locks beneath my yield- 
 ing hands, and, with the falling tide, the boat drifted 
 into the channel. My fingers felt suddenly parched 
 and I trailed them in the water. Just before me 
 was Dolly's hand, slender, pink, exquisite. I longed 
 to seize it in my own and pour out to her the words
 
 DOLLY KEVEALS A SECRET 157 
 
 of passion that came from my heart and were stifling 
 me. But the shades of my Scotch ancestors re- 
 strained me from that midsummer madness; and, 
 presently, I found that the hot blood had gone from 
 my head, the sharp pain from my heart. After 
 all, since I could not claim the prize, why should 
 I not rejoice that it had gone to one so needy at 
 that time and, doubtless, so worthy as Harrison 
 Milbrath ? 
 
 My thoughts passed from personalities to the 
 broader matters that I had in hand. I wanted to 
 ask when it was that Milbrath had been in Winton ; 
 the thought of those warnings haunted me. But 
 I could not bring myself to put a question that 
 would perhaps involve an explanation. Instead I 
 said: 
 
 " Would Jim Arms' feeling against Mr. Milbrath 
 carry him to such a length as to kill his own 
 benefactor ? " 
 
 Dolly nodded emphatically. 
 
 " He knew about the legacy, you see. He boasted 
 about it in town. Five thousand dollars at one time 
 seemed like such a lot of money to him. Besides, 
 he was in danger of losing his place and quite likely 
 the legacy, you know." 
 
 "Ah! I did not know." 
 
 " Did n't Harry tell you of what happened a 
 few days before the murder, I mean ? " 
 
 " I don't recall that he did," I said. 
 
 Dolly looked disturbed and unhappy. 
 
 " Then I cannot," she said briefly. " Oh ! Why 
 will Harry stand in his own light so persistently!
 
 Write and tell him what I have said and ask him 
 to tell you all." 
 
 " If he will not, for his sake I think that you 
 should." 
 
 " How can I since he has asked me to say nothing 
 about it ? If he will not as you should know 
 perhaps grandfather will. But please write to 
 Harry." 
 
 " I will, to-night. But now tell me what set 
 Arms against Mr. Milbrath ? " 
 
 Dolly pondered the matter for a moment. 
 
 " The beginning, I suppose, was when he took 
 Harry to a saloon in Clintonville and practically 
 forced him to drink. For days and days Harry was 
 sick after that and, in the end, told his uncle all 
 about it. Jim never forgave him for ' squealing/ 
 as he called it, for he nearly lost his place then, and 
 from that time on he tried in various underhanded 
 ways to injure Harry. But the climax came when 
 Harry detected Oh, that is the thing I cannot 
 tell you! But this much I can say: at that time 
 Jim swore that he would get ' even ' with Harry if 
 it cost him his life. And he has a vindictive dispo- 
 sition, you know." 
 
 " Do you really believe that was more than an 
 idle threat in a moment of anger ? Surely Mr. Mil- 
 brath would not keep from me any facts that he 
 considered important." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Dolly wisely. "You little 
 know Harry if you do not understand that he will 
 put no one under suspicion without good reason, 
 and his definition of ' good reason ' and mine differ.
 
 DOLLY REVEALS A SECRET 159 
 
 He has suffered so much himself and is so noble, 
 he gives everyone the benefit of the doubt if there 
 is one. Nevertheless, I know for a fact that in his 
 mind he does not believe in the complete innocence 
 of Jim Arms." 
 
 " Was there no one to give this evidence at which 
 you hint at the inquest ? " 
 
 " There were few who understood how Jim felt 
 toward Harry, and no one, then, besides myself who 
 knew of his threats. I could have testified, of 
 course, but Harry would not consent to bring me 
 into the case " her voice shook a little " even 
 to save him. After he was held by the coroner, 
 even, he would let me say nothing, for he felt that 
 the charge was too preposterous to hurt him." 
 
 " And after the first trial ? " 
 
 " Then he knew that he could still prove an alibi, 
 but his spirit was broken, and he felt that unless he 
 could find the really guilty one nothing would avail. 
 Oh, Mr. Bliss ! Sometimes it maddens me to think 
 that if at the very first I had resisted Harry's argu- 
 ments and had told all that I could have told, a 
 cloud of suspicion would not be hanging over him 
 to-day. Now the days and months and years are 
 passing and we seem just as far as ever from finding 
 who is to blame, who is responsible for these blighted 
 years and heartaches ! " 
 
 The intensity of this unexpected outburst shook 
 my heartstrings. How I wished in that moment 
 that the interest that Dolly had awakened in me 
 were of the kind that Plato advocated, or that I had 
 the right of a brother, even to comfort her !
 
 160 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 The feeling of irritation and suspicion against 
 Milbrath which had grown on me during the morn- 
 ing was augmented by Dolly's admission of his 
 visits to Winton; and her assertion of evidence 
 against Arms, which he had failed to tell me, roused 
 the belief that he had done so intentionally and en- 
 couraged the hateful conclusion that he was not 
 dealing openly with me. All these emotions were, 
 however, swept away for the moment by Dolly's 
 tragic accents. My one thought became a wish to 
 encourage and help her. 
 
 " You know why I am at Overlook ? " I asked. 
 
 Dolly raised her eyes and looked at me through 
 glistening lashes. 
 
 " Yes," she answered simply. 
 
 " Then let me say that although the incentive 
 seemed sufficient before, my resolve to detect Mr. 
 Somhers' slayer has received fresh stimulus this 
 afternoon, and if wisdom is given me to succeed, 
 Harrison Milbrath shall soon be wholly vindicated." 
 
 Dolly's lips moved as if to speak, but though no 
 words came, remembrance of the smile that glad- 
 dened her face at that moment lent me courage to 
 go on in many a disheartening hour in the days that 
 followed. 
 
 I turned the boat toward home. The sun was well 
 behind the tree-tops on the bluff when we neared the 
 Overlook pier. Dolly had been very quiet since 
 her pathetic outburst of a half hour earlier, and now 
 she sat in the stern graceful, dignified, lady-like, 
 waiting for me to bring the boat alongside and help 
 her ashore.
 
 As I reached for the line that moored the boat 
 I heard a door close softly, and, looking in the direc- 
 tion of the sound, I perceived a man disappearing 
 in the shrubbery at the foot of the bluff. Inquir- 
 ingly I turned to Dolly, and observed that the color 
 had left her face. Her eyes were fixed in the direc- 
 tion taken by the man with a sort of fascinated 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Do you know who it was ? " I asked. 
 
 She shook her head, but not convincingly. 
 
 " Then if you will excuse me for a moment I 
 will follow him. I wish to know the name of every 
 stranger who comes upon these grounds while I am 
 here." 
 
 I sprang upon the pier, and extended a hand to 
 Dolly. But she did not move. 
 
 " It will do no good to follow," she said wearily. 
 " Whoever it is, he will have no difficulty in 
 all that brush of evading you, if that is his 
 desire." 
 
 " Very likely you are right ; but I will try to get 
 him." 
 
 Dolly rose languidly, but she did not accept my 
 assistance. 
 
 " Go, then," she said. " I will wait here." 
 
 As Dolly predicted, the man had disappeared, 
 and I felt that I had no right to go beyond earshot 
 of the girl upon the pier. So I returned, feeling 
 both chagrined and annoyed a bit with her, per- 
 haps. Who was this stranger whose coming brought 
 that expression into Dolly's eyes ? I had not seen 
 his face, but he was tall, heavily built, young and, 
 
 11
 
 162 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I judged from his movements, athletic. By Jove! 
 He was like Harrison Milbrath! 
 
 " He was Mr. Milbrath's style," I remarked, my 
 eyes on Dolly. 
 
 She flushed. 
 
 "I thought so, too," she admitted, "but Harry 
 sailed for Europe to-day, did he not ? " 
 
 " He was to have done so, but if he did not what 
 is his purpose in coming here and in scampering 
 away like a criminal when he is seen ? " 
 
 Dolly made no response, and I saw that even her 
 lips were white. I anathematized myself mentally 
 for a brute, but I could find no words to mellow the 
 thought I had expressed. 
 
 Slowly and in silence we followed the gravel path 
 that climbed the bank. At the gate to Red Gables 
 Dolly paused. 
 
 " It was good of you to take me out," she said 
 smilingly, and I noticed that her face had recovered 
 its usual equanimity, " but I shall not ask you to 
 come in now. It is better for grandfather to be 
 alone after such an attack as he had this morning. 
 Come to-morrow," and she extended her hand as she 
 spoke. 
 
 Even as I said my adieux I formulated a plan 
 for action, and once out of sight of the girl I had 
 left I almost ran to the house. 
 
 " Gaspard," I cried, " put a saddle on the mare 
 and be ready in five minutes to ride into town for 
 me. Never mind dinner; that can wait. Hurry, 
 now!" 
 
 And hurry he did, for within the time I gave
 
 DOLLY EEVEALS A SECRET 163 
 
 him he cantered up to the portico entrance and I 
 handed him two telegrams with instructions to wait 
 at the station until answers arrived. 
 
 Then I seated myself upon the portico and 
 scanned as much of the grounds as were visible in 
 the hope of catching another glimpse of the man 
 who had evaded me. Horsford, driving the cows 
 in, was, however, the only human being I saw. 
 
 Just as the sinking sun set ablaze the window 
 panes in Beverly, across the bay, Gaspard returned 
 with two messages. One was from the manager of 
 the Oriental Hotel at Manhattan Beach, whom I 
 knew personally, and stated that Milbrath had left 
 his house on the previous day, destination unknown ; 
 the other, signed by the Cunard Steamship Com- 
 pany, was as follows: 
 
 " Mr. H. Milbrath on the 21st cancelled his book- 
 ing for passage on the ' Umbria.' '
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WARNED AGAIN 
 
 THE effect of these messages was, to say the 
 least, disquieting. I could not put aside Kil- 
 bourne's insinuation that Milbrath, while guiltless 
 of the crime against his uncle, might have a reason 
 for wishing me to leave Overlook, and by anony- 
 mous warnings was endeavoring to drive me away. 
 On the other hand, Kilbourne had also said that 
 when I found the one who uttered that weird cry 
 I should find the author of the communications, and, 
 probably, the slayer of Peter Somhers. These two 
 remarks were inconsistent in appearance, but I took 
 it that the latter was a modification of the former, 
 which, at the time, I had regarded as of little value. 
 Now, however, it assumed a new importance, and 
 the notion that Milbrath's reason for wanting me 
 to leave had its origin in the secret of the south wing 
 recurred to me insistently. 
 
 My sleep was restless and unsatisfactory that 
 night. I dreamed of Milbrath in a half dozen ways, 
 but the only tangible recollection of my dreams 
 was the expression of his face. It haunted me 
 for hours, and it was with a heavy heart that I 
 started out after breakfast to learn something, if 
 possible, as to the whereabouts of the men who had 
 built the wing.
 
 WARNED AGAIN 165 
 
 From the " faculty " I learned nothing, and had 
 no reward for two hours spent in lounging and 
 gossiping. 
 
 Hutton was of a little more assistance, hut the 
 help he offered was so meager that the hour I spent 
 with him seemed little better than wasted. Hutton 
 knew that one of the men bore the name of John- 
 son, and that was all that he did know about the 
 four men who had put up the wing, except that 
 all of them came from " Boston way." With that 
 information I had to be content for the time being. 
 
 A train for Boston left Beverly at five o'clock. 
 I resolved to go up at that time and try my skill 
 at getting at the Johnson. With this idea in mind 
 I returned to Overlook just in time for lunch. 
 
 As I seated myself at the table I observed an en- 
 velope lying face downward among the forks and 
 spoons that Gaspard set punctiliously before my 
 place. I turned it over and found thereon one word 
 " Bliss " printed with a pen in finely shaded 
 old English letters. It was unsealed and inside was 
 a piece of ruled paper which appeared to have 
 been cut from a sheet of foolscap such as I had re- 
 ceived on two previous occasions. In the center of 
 this neatly cut slip were pasted two printed 
 clippings : 
 
 "And be it indeed that I have erred, mine error re- 
 maineth with myself. 
 
 " My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, and 
 I am escaped with the skin of my teeth. 
 
 " Have pity upon me ! Have pity upon me ! "
 
 166 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Underneath was penned in small, old English 
 print: " Job, xix, 4, 20, 21." 
 
 At that moment Gaspard entered the room with 
 the soup. 
 
 " Gaspard," I said, " who brought this note that 
 you put at my place ? " 
 
 Gaspard stared at me in amazement. 
 
 " Zee note, m'sieu ? " he queried. " I put no note 
 anywhere." 
 
 " Look at this envelope," I said. " Don't you 
 remember that ? " 
 
 " I do not, m'sieu. I haf nefer before seen eet." 
 
 " Has anyone been to the house this morning ? " 
 
 " Not von parson, m'sieu." 
 
 " Then, Gaspard, some one has crept in and left 
 this here right here at my place." 
 
 " Impos-e-ble, m'sieu," declared Gaspard thought- 
 fully. " Zee screen doors zay fas'ened vare, even 
 mine in zee cuisine. Does m'sieu recollect zat he 
 must vait on zee portico till I come to his ring ? " 
 
 That was true. It appeared that whoever left 
 the note was now in the house. I told Gaspard so 
 much and directed him to make sure whether there 
 were any door or window open or unfastened by 
 which an intruder could have entered and escaped. 
 
 Before I had done with the soup Gaspard was 
 back to report that everything was secure on the 
 ground floor. It seemed farcical to search the 
 house, but it was the only way that I could satisfy 
 myself that the intruder was not within earshot. 
 Leaving Gaspard, therefore, still on guard in the 
 hall, I went through each room.
 
 WARNED AGAIN 167 
 
 There was no one on the ground floor, and in the 
 second story only those rooms used as sleeping 
 rooms were unlocked. I carried on my key ring 
 the keys to the others. The three chambers were 
 without tenant save myself, and the attic and cellar 
 doors not only were locked but were bolted on the 
 side next to me. On the whole I was satisfied that 
 whoever put the envelope at my place had got away 
 again; the only question was how? An agile per- 
 son might have climbed a portico column and en- 
 tered by a second floor window, but it was exceed- 
 ingly improbable and I abandoned the idea as soon 
 as I found that the dust on the window ledge which 
 had been protected from the rain, showed no traces 
 of recent disturbance. 
 
 But two logical deductions seemed to remain: 
 
 1st. That Gaspard was mistaken as to all first 
 floor doors and screens being locked during the fore- 
 noon; 2d. That a secret door existed. 
 
 The latter might, indeed, be the explanation of 
 the mystery that surrounded the building of the 
 wing. But to where would it lead? Obviously to 
 the cellar only, unless my mind flew to the tiny 
 passage between the parlors and the library. I had 
 never crossed it without feeling curious as to why 
 Mr. Somhers designed it. 
 
 I dismissed Gaspard from guard with instructions 
 to be on the lookout for a stranger on the premises, 
 and began an examination of the wall space in the 
 entry which was paneled and might, therefore, easily 
 secrete a door. But it yielded no false note to the 
 tapping which I gave it and I entered the library to
 
 168 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 see whether I could gain anything from an investi- 
 gation from that side. 
 
 As I have said elsewhere, the walls of the library 
 were lined with built-in bookcases. Those on the 
 north wall directly to the right of the door I hoped 
 to find movable, but it required the displacing of 
 only one row of books for me to see the wall behind, 
 and the way the shelves were cleated into it con- 
 vinced me that no door existed there. 
 
 I did not, however, feel satisfied, and should not 
 until I could account for the four feet of space which 
 extended east (and back) of the entry between the 
 library and the parlors. Of course it might be 
 simply a hollow, walled-in space left thus for the 
 purpose of breaking sound between the main house 
 and the library. 
 
 As I returned the books to their places, Gaspard 
 came to announce that Horsford was without with 
 the mower, and would be glad to have me give him 
 directions as to trimming the edgae of the walks. 
 As it was upon my instruction that Horsford under- 
 took the work that particular day, I could not con- 
 sistently refuse to go out to him. I went, therefore, 
 regretfully, and so much of my advice did Horsford 
 seem to require that the village clock struck six as 
 I turned again to the house. 
 
 Just as I reached the portico, the sullen-faced 
 grandson of Hutton drove up. He brought a tele- 
 gram from Kilbourne dated from Hartford at four 
 o'clock that afternoon announcing that he would 
 arrive in Winton at seven-thirty. 
 
 Young Hutton was as uncommunicative and ap-
 
 WARNED AGAIN 169 
 
 parently as glad to get away from Overlook as he 
 had been on the evening of my arrival, and he left 
 the grounds by the rear drive at a brisk pace. I 
 watched him until he disappeared, with feelings of 
 amusement and contempt Once on these grounds 
 had been his home. Here he had played, slept, 
 eaten, and worked. Now, with a lively conscious- 
 ness that no lovelier spot existed in Winton, he 
 dreaded to approach it, in fear of the shadow which 
 rumor had given this place of silence. 
 
 As I went back to the house my mind returned to 
 Kilbourne's message. If I had not, long before, 
 ceased to be surprised by anything Kilbourne did I 
 should have marveled a little that he should return 
 so unexpectedly. Doubtless the inspiration inter- 
 rupted by his trip to Winton had failed to return or 
 had been "worked off," and the heat and noise of 
 the city had suddenly become intolerable to him. 
 Then, too, he might retain the pleasant memory of 
 Dolly's smile and varying moods. If that were, 
 indeed, the attraction I pitied him, for no longer 
 had I the slightest doubt that Dolly's heart was 
 already preempted. But I shook my head at the 
 thought that Dolly was the magnet drawing Kil- 
 bourne back to Winton. Too often had I witnessed 
 the antics of his fickle heart to give Dolly credit 
 for holding it for five consecutive days. 
 
 It was just before seven-thirty when I reached the 
 Winton station, but the New York train was late 
 and there was nothing to do but to possess myself 
 with patience until its arrival. Hutton was in his 
 cubby-hole inside the bow window and seemed to be
 
 170 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 doing a thriving business for Winton in the ticket 
 and telegraph trade, so I made myself comfortable 
 on the bench. 
 
 The sun had set and the sky was a deep, dull red 
 above the lonely stretches of marshland which I 
 faced. The frogs and crickets vied with one another 
 in the amount of monotonous noise they could yield, 
 and above that came the occasional roar of the surf 
 as it beat on the stony beach at the foot of the marsh- 
 lands. I was glad when Hutton lounged to the 
 window. 
 
 " This has been what you might call workin'." he 
 observed affably, "'taint of 'en we do a rush busi- 
 ness like this." 
 
 " What 's the cause to-day ? " 
 
 " Oh, the Methodis' folks up at Clintonville had 
 a picnic to Beverly, and they had to come and go 
 by Winton. You expectin' somebody ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the man who went away on Monday. 
 Your boy brought me a message." 
 
 " Oh ! " Then after a pause : " I never could 
 see why folks comin' from W Yo'k or goin' there 
 sh'd ever go by Winton when the line that goes 
 through Beverly 's so much faster and no change." 
 
 "Well, I dare say the hour of starting has 
 something to do with it." 
 
 Hutton stared at the marshlands abstractedly; 
 then he began to chuckle. 
 
 " There 's the queerest old chap comes for this 
 train sometimes. He 's more 'n my age, I sh'd say, 
 and I 'm past sixty. I can't think where he comes 
 from, for nobody over village way knows him or
 
 WARNED AGAIN 171 
 
 has seen him so far 's I 've found out, an' usually 
 he pops right up on the platform here as 'f he 
 come up through the b'ds. I s'ppose he gets around 
 the deepot quiet-like before I see him. But this 
 time he come at noon this noon just as the train 
 was movin' out. Gosh ! if that old feller did n't 
 run and grab onto the tail end of the train and 
 jerk himself up! First I was scared, an' then I 
 laffed an' laffed so I could sca'cely lock up an' go 
 home. You wait till he comes aroun' again. I 
 guess I '11 have some fun with him! " 
 
 " Pretty spry for an old man ? " 
 
 " You bet ! I 'd kinder like to know who he is 
 and where he comes from. He 's no farmer nor 
 country man. Yet them two trains, the noon one 
 and this a-comin' in don't touch anywhere but vil- 
 lages after Hartford." 
 
 " Does n't it connect with a Boston train at Lewis 
 Junction this train, I mean ? " 
 
 " W-all, yes, and that 's where he says he goes. 
 I asked him once. He acted kinder mad. ' Boston,' 
 says he sharp as a knife, an' I dassen't say any more 
 then. But I did n't b'lieve him. Nobody that can 
 get to Beverly comes here to take a Boston train. 
 Some time I '11 ask the conductor if I ever get a 
 chance. You see, the old chap never bought a 
 ticket o' me." 
 
 "What does he look like, this old man?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " W-all, he 's a little more hunched in the 
 shoulders than I be, but he 's about the same height, 
 and his whiskers all over his face is gray."
 
 172 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 A vision of a man coming toward me from the 
 chief's room as I sat at my desk in the reporters' 
 corner suddenly floated before my eyes. 
 
 "Has he blue eyes, very light blue eyes?" I 
 asked involuntarily, " and a florid skin ? " 
 
 Hutton regarded me with surprise. " W-all, I 
 sh'd say likely," he answered, " though I can't say 
 I ever paid much attention to them points. His 
 pepperyness is what struck me hardest. You know 
 him?" 
 
 " I suppose not, for the man that I have in mind 
 would have no reason to come to Winton. Ah, 
 there 's our train," as a distant locomotive shriek 
 broke upon the air. At the same instant the tele- 
 graph instrument began to click, and the party of 
 picnickers gathered together their boxes and bags. 
 
 As I went down the platform to meet Kilbourne 
 my mind was in a whirl with the new suggestions 
 that rushed in upon it, but above all vibrated the 
 thought that Philander Summerfield had been in 
 Winton that morning. And why ?
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A RESIGNATION AND A REFUSAL 
 
 TT'ILBOTIRNE made no attempt to disguise the 
 -**- reason for his unexpected return to Winton. 
 Indeed, before we reached Overlook he frankly de- 
 clared that since Monday he had thought of no one 
 and of nothing but Dolly McClure. He manifested 
 little interest in my affairs, and coolly intimated 
 that he had come to make me a visit of indefinite 
 length. 
 
 I was both nettled and hurt by his indifference, 
 and his candor was the only thing that saved the 
 day for him. I never could quarrel with a man 
 who was absolutely frank. So I pocketed my wrath, 
 made no comment about the matters uppermost in 
 my mind, and, as patiently as possible, awaited the 
 turn of the tide in his affaire de cceur. 
 
 When, however, Monday arrived without any 
 visible change, I openly rebelled against being 
 towed to Red Gables twice daily to sit on the ve- 
 randa and talk idly with Mr. McClure, or join him 
 in a game of chess, while Kilbourne entertained the 
 ofttimes obviously reluctant Dolly. As we smoked 
 our after-dinner cigars upon the portico on Monday 
 evening, therefore, I mentioned casually that busi- 
 ness connected with the case would take me to Bos- 
 ton on the following day. 
 
 Kilbourne regarded me with absent eyes.
 
 174 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 "Oh," he said presently, "the case. Yes. That 's 
 all right, Bliss. You need n't apologize. You know 
 that it is not your attractive personality that is 
 holding me now. I '11 indulge myself in that later 
 when you are back in town with your what was 
 it? sixty thousand dollars! By the way, how is 
 the case coming on ? " 
 
 " As well as can be expected," I made reply 
 stiffly, and in the language of a medical man dis- 
 cussing a disease. 
 
 " Oh ! " commented Kilbourne again, this time, 
 however, with a sharp, comprehensive glance at me. 
 " I see." He flung away the end of his cigar and 
 rose. 
 
 " Come," he said. " Let us meander into the sub- 
 urbs," indicating Red Gables with his thumb. 
 
 " Not for me, thank you. I think I '11 have a 
 row on the bay a little later. There 's a clear moon." 
 
 " Yes ; I had observed. I was wondering a mo- 
 ment ago how Miss Dolly would enjoy an hour on 
 the water," and Kilbourne sauntered away. 
 
 I watched him as he moved slowly across the 
 lawn, and marveled that such a combination of 
 acumen and dense egotism could exist in any one 
 man. Had he been for five minutes only in the 
 company of a couple like Dolly McClure and himself 
 he would have known that Dolly's interest in him 
 was merely that of a friend, and he would have 
 regarded his own confidence and high spirits as 
 little short of idiotic blindness. Nothing that I 
 said to give him a hint of what I believed to be the 
 girl's true condition of heart made the slightest
 
 A RESIGNATION AND A REFUSAL 175 
 
 impression on him, and he intimated gayly that I 
 was merely green with envy. The name of Mil- 
 brath was not mentioned between us, and I believe 
 that at the time Kilbourne's mind never associated 
 Milbrath with Dolly. 
 
 As I started for the boathouse Gaspard came up 
 with the evening mail. One letter, addressed in a 
 small, cramped hand, was postmarked " Boston," 
 and I knew from whom it came before I opened it. 
 
 I had done some hard thinking since Friday even- 
 ing, piecing out another theory for my case; or 
 rather another part to the one already on the car- 
 pet. If this stranger to Winton to whom Hutton 
 referred were indeed Philander Summerfield he, 
 too, was involved in the mystery, notwithstand- 
 ing the fact that he had engaged me to try to 
 solve it. 
 
 On Saturday I found an excuse to see Hutton 
 again. 
 
 " Have you seen your old man since Thursday ? " 
 I inquired. 
 
 " Nope. Oh, he '11 not be around this way for a 
 week or more, likely. Gosh ! I bet he got a crick 
 in his back from pullin' himself onto that train! 
 You sure you don't know him ? " 
 
 " How could I ? The man his description fits I 
 never saw outside New York. When was it you 
 first saw him ? " 
 
 " Oh, some time ago June, I guess." 
 
 " That was long before I thought of coming here. 
 I dare say he has friends in Winton. Did no one 
 ever come to the station with him ? "
 
 176 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 " And he looks like no one you ever saw ? " 
 
 Hutton shook his head. 
 
 " There ain't nobody in this part of the country 
 like him, though I '11 be switched if I can tell what 
 makes the difference. 'T ain't his voice nor way of 
 speakin', for the fust time he said a word Gosh ! 
 if I did n't get a start ! Sounded for all the world 
 like old man Somhers. Did n't know Mr. Somhers, 
 did you ? " 
 
 " I knew him when I was a little chap," and I 
 told Hutton a little about that early acquaintance. 
 " But I cannot recall his voice," I concluded, wish- 
 ing with all my heart that I could. 
 
 " W-all, I can't say myself exactly how 't waa 
 kinder quick and nervous-like anyway." 
 
 And that was all that I gained from Hutton that 
 day. But it evolved a train of thought that found 
 expression in the following letter, which I mailed 
 that very noon : 
 
 MR. PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD, 
 
 DEAR SIR : My investigations have led me to a point 
 where I can no longer act honestly in your interest and 
 be justified in accepting a salary from you. 
 
 I shall continue, however, to probe the Somhers mys- 
 tery on my own responsibility, with the hope of obtain- 
 ing ultimately the reward offered by Mr. Milbrath for 
 the detection of his uncle's assassin. 
 
 I beg, therefore, that you release me from the agree- 
 ment into which I entered with you on August 16th. 
 Very truly, 
 
 ELMER BLISS.
 
 A KESIGXATION AND A EEFUSAL 177 
 
 The letter which Gaspard handed me was char- 
 acteristic, it seemed to me, of the eccentric writer. 
 It ran: 
 
 MR. ELMER BLISS, 
 
 MY DEAR YOUNG MAN : Don't be idiotic and throw 
 away a good chance to make a fortune. / don't care a 
 continental if you make two of them. So continue to 
 work in the interest of that young scamp Milbrath, if 
 you see fit, as well as in mine. 
 
 By the way, did you intimate that you think you 
 have a clue? 
 
 PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 What was Mr. Summerfield's purpose in ignoring 
 entirely my insinuation that I believed him involved 
 in the case ? Being innocent did he really overlook 
 what I intended to imply and regard my desire to 
 be released from my agreement with him merely 
 because the offer made by Milbrath appeared more 
 attractive? Or, being guilty, did he hope to blind 
 me by an assumption of innocence? 
 
 In either case I was resolved to free myself from 
 him and be able to work irrespective of the consider- 
 ation that he was my employer. If he proved to be 
 in nowise involved in the crime or connected with 
 my anonymous communications, and wished to re- 
 ward me in case of my success, I should be willing 
 to have that understanding; and I returned to the 
 house and at once wrote a letter to that effect to Mr. 
 Philander Summerfield. I did not, in so many 
 words, tell him that I connected him with the case, 
 but I explained that conditions appeared to exist 
 
 12
 
 178 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 that made it undesirable for me longer to accept a 
 weekly salary from him, and said that I wished to 
 work independently without obligation to him. 
 
 This letter I put in my pocket to mail on the mor- 
 row. Then I continued my way to the beach. 
 
 By this time all the light of the day had faded, 
 and the moon, almost full and riding well up in a 
 cloudless sky, illumined the earth with undimmed 
 brightness. I could see every tree and piece of statu- 
 ary on the lawn as clearly as in the daylight. 
 
 Suddenly the figure of a man passed between me 
 and the bright expanse of water below. It paused, 
 and then came slowly toward me. The next instant 
 Harrison Milbrath and I stood face to face.
 
 CHAPTEK XXI 
 
 MILBEATH'S ADMISSION 
 
 was silence for the space of a breath. 
 -*- Then Milbrath spoke. 
 
 " Do you wonder what I am doing here ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " You were to go abroad," I faltered. 
 
 " That was my intention, but there is no place like 
 America, after all, Mr. Bliss, and no friends " 
 
 " Like old friends," I finished for him involun- 
 tarily. Milbrath strode a step nearer to me, which 
 brought him into the full light of the moon, and put- 
 ting both hands upon my shoulders, he looked at 
 me searchingly. 
 
 " You know ? " he queried. 
 
 " I have surmised," I corrected. 
 
 Milbrath's arms dropped to his sides, and when 
 he spoke again, after a second, it was on a different 
 subject. 
 
 "I have to ask your pardon for slipping away 
 from you as I did last Thursday," he said. " My 
 conduct on that day was unjustified, though at the 
 time I believed it to be right. I may be able to 
 explain the reason for it ver/ soon, but until then 
 I hope that my admission that I was at Overlook 
 and wished to leave it without your knowledge that 
 I had been here will be sufficient to restore your 
 confidence in me."
 
 180 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " I do not forget, Mr. Milbrath, that I am your 
 tenant only by courtesy, and that I have no right 
 to question the reason for any visit you may choose 
 to make to Overlook, or the way that you make 
 it. But, on the other hand, I am trying to work in 
 your interest on a case that is peculiarly baffling 
 and if I am to succeed I must have every as- 
 sistance that you can give me, whether or not 
 it brings to my knowledge facts that you and 
 Mr. Somhers would have preferred to remain 
 unrevealed." 
 
 Milbrath regarded me for a moment in mystified 
 silence. 
 
 " It sounds momentous," he said presently, " but 
 you will pardon me if I confess that I do not get its 
 meaning." 
 
 I laughed at his whimsical gravity. 
 
 " But, in point of fact, the matter is not one to 
 be laughed at," I said. " My residence here has 
 brought me face to face with a peculiar condition 
 of affairs in which, I believe, lies the solution of 
 Mr. Somhers' death. There are some points on 
 which you, perhaps, can shed light. Are you will- 
 ing to go on the rack for a few minutes and let 
 me make you acquainted with the conditions by 
 questions ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " In the first place, then, whom did you endeavor 
 to shield that evening we arranged for me to come 
 here when I asked whether you ever suspected any- 
 one of killing or of knowing who killed your 
 uncle ? "
 
 MILBRATH'S ADMISSION 181 
 
 " I shielded no one. My hesitation at that mo- 
 ment was unfortunate." 
 
 " Biit there is some one whom once you sus- 
 pected ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I have been proved wrong." 
 
 "Mr. Milbrath, I must know. Whom did you 
 suspect ? " 
 
 " Jim Arms." 
 
 " Ah ! Will you tell me why ? " 
 
 " May I have your assurance of secrecy ? I have 
 as I have said, proved him innocent of any connec- 
 tion with the crime, and though he is a worthless 
 dog, as you have doubtless found, I will not have 
 his name entangled now." 
 
 " You can depend upon my discretion." 
 
 " It was in this way a somewhat involved tale. 
 Two nights before uncle's murder Jim attempted 
 to rob Overlook. He had contracted some gambling 
 debts in Clintonville and thought, I suppose, to rid 
 himself of them by disposing of some of uncle's 
 available property. I surprised him in the dining 
 room ready to get off with a basket full of silver 
 plate. He would have killed me then with pleas- 
 ure, but I reminded him that shots would rouse the 
 household and that his chances for freedom would 
 be slim after that. He was never one to face 
 danger; so he took my counsel, as I knew that he 
 would. Nevertheless he swore roundly that if ever 
 I breathed a word of the facts he 'd get even with 
 me if it cost him his life. I paid no heed to his 
 words, of course, and the next day told uncle the 
 whole story."
 
 182 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " How did Mr. Somhers take the information ? " 
 I asked, thinking of the influence I believed Arms 
 to have had over the old man. 
 
 " Coolly, to my surprise. ' He 's a rascal. I 
 know that already,' was his only comment. I felt 
 indignant at uncle's attitude, naturally, but if he 
 cared so little for his valuables as to retain the man 
 who would rob him of them it was none of my busi- 
 ness, now was it ? " 
 
 " Scarcely." 
 
 " But I wondered then as I had wondered before 
 and have wondered since, why in the deuce uncle 
 excused everything that cur did and kept him on the 
 place." 
 
 " Had you any reason to think that Jim feared 
 he would lose the legacy ? " 
 
 " Yes. The evening before the tragedy I was 
 returning home from Red Gables, and as I ap- 
 proached the house I saw Jim standing before uncle 
 in the library. Uncle was prancing about, ap- 
 parently in high temper, and one of the windows 
 being open I distinctly heard him exclaim : ' That 's 
 enough! That's enough! Not a penny of my 
 money will you ever get. You've tried me past 
 endurance. Go ! ' Whether the command referred 
 to his presence in the room or to his discharge from 
 Overlook I had no way of knowing, but I took it 
 to mean the latter." 
 
 "Naturally. This is all news to me, but it 
 strengthens the circumstantial evidence that I have 
 gathered against the man." 
 
 " Discard it as worthless. It will only lead you
 
 MILBKATH'S ADMISSION 183 
 
 astray. You see, I have gone into the matter pretty 
 thoroughly myself. In New York I alluded to 
 another investigation. You see, I clung to my 
 theory. Jim's attitude toward me and Maggie's 
 conduct and manner of testimony strengthened it. 
 So, when I was finally free, I engaged Coles, the 
 famous detective, to pass himself off as a business 
 man on a vacation and get board with Arms. He 
 lived there for a month and came to know the family 
 intimately. He learned most of Jim's sins, but he 
 came away convinced that while Arms professed to 
 believe that I killed my uncle he did not really be- 
 lieve it and was as much puzzled as anyone." 
 
 " Did you ever hear of a man named La Cour ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 Milbrath shook his head. 
 
 " Some blackguard acquaintance on whom Jim is 
 levying blackmail, no doubt," he said, when I had 
 told him what I knew of La Cour. " By the way," 
 he added, " it must seem queer to you that I did n't 
 appear to know that Arms was no longer at Over- 
 look. I did know it once, but had forgotten it. This 
 property, you see, has been in the hands of an 
 agent and I 've given it scarcely a thought. I must 
 apologize for my stupfdity." 
 
 " It is not worth mentioning. I am glad that 
 Arms is not here. But there are some strictly per- 
 sonal matters I should like to ask you about." 
 
 Milbrath looked surprised. 
 
 " Ask me anything you like," he said. 
 
 " Then I '11 go to the point at once. Where were 
 you the day that I came to Winton ? "
 
 184: THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " That was the day after our talk at the Reform 
 Club ? Let me see. Why, at Manhattan Beach. I 
 must have been there, for I returned there directly 
 upon leaving you and remained there until last 
 Monday." 
 
 " I received a letter from you postmarked ' Sta- 
 tion F ' ? " 
 
 " I sent it in by an acquaintance." 
 
 " Arms asserts that he saw you here about that 
 time." 
 
 " Then Arms is either mistaken or lies. I was 
 here two days before I saw you, and again last 
 Thursday." 
 
 " Have you any knowledge of the authorship of 
 this note, or how it came to me?" and I handed 
 him the first warning. 
 
 He read it with an expression of growing amaze- 
 ment and incredulity. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that was sent to you ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 I explained the circumstances of its receipt 
 
 " I give you my word that I know nothing of it. 
 Why, I did not know, even, that you live on Forty- 
 sixth Street." 
 
 " So I believed. Do you know, then, who put 
 this upon your uncle's library table the morning 
 after my arrival in Winton; how this found its 
 way to my suitcase the afternoon of the same day; 
 or how this came to be at my place upon the lunch 
 table last Friday noon? 1 ' And I laid the collection 
 of anonymous notes before Milbrath. 
 
 He read them through rapidly, one after an-
 
 MILBRATH'S ADMISSION 185 
 
 other by the light of some burning matches that I 
 held for him. He went through them a second time 
 before he spoke. 
 
 " You fancied that I might have left them ? " he 
 asked presently. 
 
 " Never until Thursday, when I believed it was 
 you who slipped away at sight of me." 
 
 Milbrath winced. 
 
 " Yes ; I know that my conduct had a suspicious 
 look. But I know nothing of these. What reason 
 could you assign to me for sending you such 
 tommy rot ? " 
 
 " I thought it possible that you were in possession 
 of the secret of the south wing, which you recalled 
 after giving me permission to come here, and of 
 which you wished me to remain in ignorance," I 
 said. 
 
 " The secret of the south wing ! " he cried. 
 " The south wing of Overlook ? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 I recapitulated shortly the facts and conjectures 
 that have already been recorded. 
 
 " You deduce, then, that there is a secret door 
 by which the assassin of Uncle Peter made his es- 
 cape, or behind which he hid until he could leave 
 the house in safety? That this door and hidden 
 room are connected with these astonishing commu- 
 nications ? " 
 
 " That is my belief." 
 
 Milbrath meditated, and then shook his head. 
 
 " You are aware of no secret in his life, no ir- 
 regularity which would make it desirable for him
 
 186 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 to have a place of concealment for, perhaps, papers 
 or documents ? " 
 
 " So far as I know or have reason to believe 
 Uncle Peter was absolutely upright and hon- 
 orable. I think that his life was clean, and, 
 aside from his outbursts of passion with me, very 
 placid." 
 
 " Were not those outbursts toward you er- 
 ratic ? " 
 
 Milbrath smiled. 
 
 " I used to think so sometimes. I confess that 
 a few times I, too, went so far as to think him mad, 
 but when I stopped to analyze the attack I invari- 
 ably thought differently. Considering his feeling 
 to\yard me I think he was almost justified. You 
 see, uncle never cared for me. I was so unfortu- 
 nate as to be the child of his only sister who had 
 been a source of irritation to him from her earliest 
 years. She was many years younger than he, and 
 unwelcomed by him at her birth. Then she married 
 a man whom he abhorred, and against his expressed 
 wishes for he was her guardian. By the time 
 my father died, when I was an infant, he had dissi- 
 pated my mother's entire fortune. From that time 
 mother and I were dependent upon the bounty of 
 Uncle Peter. I suppose that one of the greatest 
 crosses of his life was to bring me here to live with 
 him when mother died. He was a man of such 
 strong dislikes I do not wonder that I was an eye- 
 sore to him. What is more, I was a little imp, and 
 as soon as I found that uncle disliked me, I took 
 pains to irritate him."
 
 MILBRATH'S ADMISSION 187 
 
 "Did such a condition of affairs exist up to the 
 time of Mr. Somhers' death ? " 
 
 " There was a little difference. I had perceived 
 the folly of trying to irritate him, and had learned 
 to contain myself under any circumstances when 
 with him ; hut my self-control seemed to help mat- 
 ters very little, and life was far from peaceful 
 between us." 
 
 Milbrath was breaking down unconsciously every 
 sprout of theory that I had nurtured and raised. 
 My thoughts turned to Philander Summerfield, who 
 seemed to have come into the case in a new way. 
 
 " Had Mr. Somhers a brother ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes. Uncle Francis." 
 
 " Still living, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. He died years ago." 
 
 "Did he leave a family?" 
 
 " He was a bachelor." 
 
 " Was there a resemblance between him and Mr. 
 Somhers ? " 
 
 Milbrath considered. 
 
 " He was shorter and fairer, I believe. My recol- 
 lection of him is, however, rather vague. I was 
 only a little chap when he died." 
 
 " You know then, that he died ? " 
 
 Milbrath regarded me with amazement. 
 
 " I have seen his grave in Mt. Auburn several 
 times, and I remember when Uncle Peter went to the 
 funeral soon after I came to live in Winton." 
 
 " There was nothing in this brother's life that 
 the family would wish to conceal ? " 
 
 " Not so far as I ever heard. Indeed, I never
 
 188 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 heard much about him in any way. I gathered 
 somehow that relations between the brothers were 
 somewhat strained. I know that Uncle Peter was 
 pretty grouchy when it came to paying the old uncle's 
 debts after his death, but he relented and put a 
 monument over the grave. Come, Mr. Bliss, what 
 card are you holding? Are you theorizing that 
 Uncle Francis is still alive and that it was he who 
 killed Uncle Peter?" 
 
 " It is a notion too fantastical, perhaps, to call a 
 theory. I think, however, that we shall find a con- 
 nection between this Philander Summerfield, who 
 engaged me to come here, and Mr. Somhers' death." 
 
 Then I quoted Hutton as to the similarity of voice 
 between the curious old train-catcher and Mr. Som- 
 hers, and I added that the description of the man 
 tallied with my remembrance of Mr. Summerfield. 
 
 " Granting, however," I went on, " that Francis 
 Somhers lived instead of having died at the time 
 you supposed, and granting also, that for sufficient 
 reasons it was agreed between the brothers to keep 
 his existence a secret, we have a plausible hypothesis 
 as to Mr. Somhers' death and the present curious 
 conditions. We see, then, that the library, hiding 
 the door to the outside, could admit this brother 
 unseen and unknown to every one but Mr. Peter 
 Somhers; and because he is the one who knew 
 the secret entrance, and because bitter disagree- 
 ments seemed to be a feature between the brothers, 
 we surmise that it was he who, in a moment of 
 anger, became an assassin. It is possible that hav- 
 ing committed a crime, he longs to atone for it, yet
 
 189 
 
 has not the moral courage to give himself up to the 
 law. Having engaged me to discover him he fears 
 that I will do so, and endeavors, by intimidation, to 
 force me to leave the place." 
 
 Milbrath smiled. 
 
 " I wish to be encouraging, but " 
 
 " Yes ; I know. It sounds fantastic more 
 
 like a Frankenstein tale than a possibility. I am 
 going to Boston to-morrow to find, if I can, the 
 workmen who put up the south wing. My idea 
 has been that the secret room lies between the li- 
 brary and the parlors, and I cannot yet understand 
 why four by six feet of space back of the entry was 
 allowed to go to waste. So far, however, I have 
 not been able to find a place where the walls sound 
 hollow." 
 
 " We '11 tear the wing down if you say so. I 
 should prefer it, if that will help you." 
 
 " Not unless I fail in Boston. While I am there 
 I mean to look up our friend, Summerfield. I have 
 asked him to release me, and as he declines to do 
 so he must submit to whatever investigation turns 
 his way." 
 
 " I should like to join you in the trip to Boston, 
 and help you if I can. I will act under your in- 
 structions." 
 
 " Good ! Can you start on the eight o'clock 
 morning train ? " 
 
 Milbrath hesitated. " I fear not," he answered. 
 " There is a purpose in my trip to Winton just 
 now. I have come, indeed, to have a few words with 
 Mr. Kilbourne. If I am able to see him to-night
 
 190 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I will accompany you. Otherwise I will follow on 
 the early afternoon train." 
 
 In the ensuing silence it came to me suddenly 
 why Milbrath was in Winton to see Kilbourne. 
 Dolly had, of course, sent for him to inform Kil- 
 bourne that, as the prospective Mrs. Milbrath, 
 she could no longer accept the ardent attention 
 which Kilbourne was lavishing upon her. In that 
 moment there was no question in my mind as to 
 Dolly's relation to Milbrath. 
 
 This reverie merged as we smoked in intermit- 
 ting silence into a review of the Somhers case, 
 and a new point came to me. If Philander Summer- 
 field were, indeed, Francis Somhers, was it not 
 probable that his money was acquired through Peter 
 Somhers? In that case there must be evidence to 
 that effect somewhere. Perhaps the Winton bank 
 could help me on that point. I resolved to defer 
 my start for Boston for half a day and devote the 
 following morning to an inquiry into the matter. 
 
 " Surely you will remain at Overlook to-night," 
 I said as Milbrath rose. 
 
 He shook his head a little sadly. 
 
 " I have registered at the Winton House this 
 time," he said, " and it is best that I should return 
 there." 
 
 " Then plan to lunch here to-morrow. You can 
 talk with Kilbourne before or afterward, as you 
 like. I Ve decided to delay my start for Boston, 
 and shall call upon Banker Crane in the morning. 
 I want to learn whether Mr. Somhers ever made 
 any checks to this Philander Summerfield. By the
 
 MILBRATH'S ADMISSION 191 
 
 way, in the matter of writing Mr. Somhers left 
 practically nothing. I have looked through every 
 file, trunk and box in the house, but, aside from a 
 few receipts, I Ve found nothing. I wonder whether 
 he was as careful in what he wrote ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly. He answered letters promptly, 
 and his first act afterward was to destroy the ones 
 received. It was one of his axioms that the less one 
 puts on paper and keeps on paper the less one has 
 to trouble about." 
 
 " Hum ! A curious axiom for an honest man ! 
 Well, we shall see what Mr. Crane knows about Mr. 
 Somhers' checks." 
 
 Milbrath glanced at his watch. 
 
 " Not quite nine yet," he said. " I think I '11 
 surprise Red Gables with a materialization there. 
 I wish you would join me, Bliss." 
 
 I should have preferred an hour on the water; 
 but suddenly one of Kilbourne's mottos for success 
 rang in my memory : " Never, without excellent 
 reason, decline an invitation; it may lead you to 
 unexpected information." So I announced that I 
 was ready to accompany him, and a moment later 
 Milbrath and I were threading the triangle of 
 woods.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A EEVELATION 
 
 screened veranda at Red Gables was bathed 
 -- in the mellow glow from a dozen delicately 
 tinted Japanese lanterns, and the tinkle of a man- 
 dolin and the sound of a deep voice humming a 
 Venetian boating song reached our ears as we ap- 
 proached. We could see through the open French 
 windows into the lighted living room where Mr. 
 McClure and a gentleman, who was a stranger to me, 
 sat before a card table with a chessboard between 
 them. It was Dolly and Kilbourne, then, on the 
 veranda, and on the unlighted end, too, where the 
 moonbeams were beginning to play hide-and-seek 
 with the clematis vines. 
 
 As we neared the house I perceived that a third 
 person made up the group upon the veranda, a 
 woman whom Dolly called " godmother Foster," as 
 she introduced me, and who greeted Milbrath in a 
 manner so distant and chilling that a blanket of fog 
 seemed on the moment to envelop us. 
 
 Kilbourne was plainly not overjoyed by the ar- 
 rival of Milbrath, or of me, perhaps, but his spirits 
 were too buoyant that evening to feel a damper for 
 long. Dolly's welcome to Milbrath was to my mind 
 clearly not that of a mere friend, and I wondered 
 how under the sun Kilbourne failed to take the hint.
 
 A EEVELATION 193 
 
 We sat upon the veranda for a while, but few 
 words were spoken. Dolly continued to finger the 
 mandolin strings in accompaniment to Kilbourne's 
 snatches of song. Presently Mrs. Foster suggested 
 that we go inside and persuade Dolly to sing as Kil- 
 bourne had been asking her to do all the evening. 
 
 I seconded the motion eagerly, for I understood 
 instinctively that Milbrath's sensitive nerves were 
 quivering in that atmosphere of antagonism toward 
 him and, as Kilbourne hurried ahead to get out the 
 music, I boldly attached myself to Mrs. Foster and, 
 diverting her attention as best I could led her slowly 
 toward the lighted living-room, leaving Dolly and 
 Milbrath for a moment alone among the moon- 
 beams. Looking back in their direction as we 
 crossed the threshold of a window, I observed that 
 Dolly was speaking rapidly, and her raised hand 
 upon Milbrath's shoulder lent the scene the appear- 
 ance not only of familiarity but of pleading. They 
 seemed loath to part, but when they did so Milbrath 
 found a seat upon a window ledge which gave him 
 a view of the room. 
 
 The game of chess was finished, and the players 
 strolled toward the windows, for the night was 
 sultry and the room warm. Mr. McClure's kind 
 old face wore an abstracted, and perhaps a bored, 
 expression, but at sight of Milbrath a glorifying 
 smile changed every feature and he hurried toward 
 him, both hands outstretched. 
 
 " This is as it should be, my boy," he cried heart- 
 ily. "Now you are on the right road. Welcome! 
 Welcome!" 
 
 13
 
 194: THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I did not hear Milbrath's answer. All my atten- 
 tion at that moment was given to the stranger who 
 also had caught sight of the returned wanderer, and 
 who directly and deliberately turned his back upon 
 him and their host and stood gazing with abstracted 
 interest at an engraving of Stuart's " Washington " 
 upon the wall. 
 
 Three times Mr. McClure spoke before the 
 stranger turned with a well-feigned start. 
 
 " Mr. Foster," said Mr. McClure in his exquis- 
 itely modulated accents, " certainly you remember 
 our Harry who has been almost as dear to me as 
 my Dolly ? His beard does change his appearance, 
 I know." 
 
 Mr. Foster grappled the line of excuse thrown 
 out to him and approached Milbrath cautiously. 
 
 " To be sure ! To be sure ! " he exclaimed in high 
 nasal tones. By gad! What demd changes time 
 does work ! " and he lifted a monocle and regarded 
 Milbrath as if he were a rare specimen of the genus 
 man. 
 
 Mr. McClure interrupted the observation by in- 
 troducing me, and then seated himself upon the 
 tete-a-tete by the side of Mrs. Foster who graciously 
 drew to herself her voluminous skirts in smiling 
 invitation to him and at once focused her attention 
 upon him. 
 
 Mr. Foster turned from us irresolutely, plainly 
 unwilling to further address himself to Milbrath, 
 and, taking advantage of the moment, I seated my- 
 self at Milbrath's side. 
 
 Dolly, who had observed the comedy just enacted,
 
 A KEVELATION 195 
 
 after a doubtful glance at Mr. Foster, turned away 
 from him with an expression that said plainly that 
 the good man could now find a companion for him- 
 self. And she ran a defiant scale upon the piano 
 before beginning her song. 
 
 I had never heard the air, but Milbrath told me 
 that it was Dolly's adaptation of a Mendelssohn 
 " Song Without Words," and the lines I knew to 
 be from Tennyson. 
 
 I now cannot recall the first words. I was lis- 
 tening to the air and watching the girl's face. 
 
 "Love then had hope of richer store; 
 What end is there to my complaint," 
 
 she sang, her eyes upon the pictured face of St. 
 Cecilia above the piano 
 
 f'This haunting whisper makes me faint, 
 More years had made me love thee more." 
 
 Was it simply the music sympathetically ren- 
 dered, or was it more than art that gave to those 
 last lines the plaintive suggestion of unshed tears 
 and held the room in tense silence as the final chords 
 sang themselves to sleep upon the keyboard? A 
 sigh passed through the room, and with it the spell, 
 and directly everyone was as before everyone save 
 Harrison Milbrath and myself, Milbrath who de- 
 serted his place at my side and joined Dolly, and 
 I who walked down to that end of the veranda where 
 bars of silver light fell aslant the floor. 
 
 My mind was perturbed and ill at ease. I felt 
 the nearness of something that I could neither grasp 
 nor define, something that had to do with Dolly and
 
 196 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Milbrath. For at those last words she had turned 
 her eyes seas of sapphire at the minute from 
 the picture above and before her, to Milbrath be- 
 side me upon the window ledge. There was an 
 expression in them that defied my analysis or 
 comprehension. That those two were affianced 
 offered an explanation that was satisfactory only 
 in part. 
 
 My eyes wandered across Winton neck to the bay 
 and to sedate Beverly already losing herself in sleep. 
 A few sail boats at anchor near the shore, their white 
 wings drawn and folded, rocked gently on the com- 
 ing tide and in the shifting shadows of the clouds 
 resembled spirit ships, illusive and unreal. 
 
 There came to me as I stood there a remembrance 
 of the words that Dolly had spoken that afternoon 
 when she and I were drifting about in the rowboat. 
 
 " Sometimes it maddens me," she had said, " to 
 think that the days and months and years are pass- 
 ing and we seem just as far as ever from finding 
 who is to blame, who is responsible for these blighted 
 years and heartaches ! " 
 
 What despair had rung in her young voice ! 
 
 Suddenly I seemed to see the printed report of a 
 certain day in Milbrath's last trial, the day that the 
 elderly clergyman testified that Milbrath had been 
 with him at the probable hour of Mr. Somhers' 
 death. He had cleverly prevented a reading be- 
 tween the lines at the time, but in that moment of 
 retrospection the situation stood revealed to me. 
 Harrison Milbrath had been married on that day! 
 And to whom but to Dolly McClure? I marveled
 
 A REVELATION 197 
 
 that I had not thought of this before, that the whole 
 world had not taken the hint. 
 
 But why had they guarded their secret to so great 
 a sacrifice to Milbrath ? I knew the answer even as 
 I asked myself. Because of Milbrath's Quixotic 
 notions; because, as Dolly had said in reference to 
 another matter, he would not have her name dragged 
 before the public. 
 
 After that revelation I stood so long in silence 
 staring at the moonlit land and sea that Mr. Mc- 
 Clure called to me. 
 
 " I believe you were moon-gazing," he said ban- 
 teringly, but with a sharp glance at me, " and we 
 all know what that means. You are wanted inside 
 a prospective boatride or something of the kind." 
 
 Kilbourne and Mrs. Foster were planning a 
 morning picnic to Shell Cove. 
 
 " Old Brown will sail us over and we '11 breakfast 
 under the trees. Can't you defer that tiresome trip 
 and join us, laddie ? " Kilbourne asked as I came up. 
 
 " I 'd like to, but another affair has developed." 
 
 " Better cut it and come." 
 
 A moment later I observed that Milbrath had 
 slipped away. Only Dolly and Mr. McClure seemed 
 to know that he was gone. I made my adieux brief, 
 and hurrying after him overtook him just as he was 
 leaving the grounds. 
 
 " Will you not see Kilbourne to-night ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 Milbrath looked at me keenly. Then he shook his 
 head. 
 
 " It would only spoil the morning party, and so
 
 198 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 far as I can see no harm is likely to come of waiting 
 another half day." 
 
 " Perhaps not. Still, you never can tell about 
 Kilbourne. I 'm convinced now that he is genu- 
 inely in love with Dolly, and as it 's the first attack 
 of the kind that he 's ever had it is hard to tell when 
 he will break out." 
 
 I drew closer to Milbrath until we touched 
 shoulders. 
 
 " I know all your secret now, you see," I said. 
 " You are willing ? " 
 
 " I am glad," Milbrath answered simply and 
 caught my hand in a hearty grasp. " Now you 
 understand why I abandoned the European trip 
 what has brought me to Winton." 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " But I can't understand why I was blind for so 
 long, or how you have managed to hold your secret," 
 I said. 
 
 " I cannot understand how we escaped. As it was 
 Mr. Longman could scarcely be made to keep his 
 promise of secrecy. Mr. Longman was the clergy- 
 man, you know, and a friend of Mr. McClure's. He 
 declared that the case needed his testimony, and it 
 was only upon my most earnest pleading that he 
 kept quiet until my second trial." 
 
 " But merciful Heavens, man, why did you keep 
 quiet, or want him to ? Think what a statement of 
 the facts would have saved you ! In the first place 
 you would never have been held by the coroner's 
 jury." 
 
 Milbrath groaned.
 
 A KEVELATION 199 
 
 " Yes, yes ; if I had done so. But I am one of 
 those unfortunates who see things only from behind. 
 We had agreed to keep our marriage secret for a 
 year, Dolly and I, or until such a time as I could 
 provide for her with my own earnings, and at first 
 I saw no reason for changing our plans. I never 
 dreamed of being accused of taking uncle's life, and 
 even when the coroner's verdict came in against me 
 the charge seemed too absurd to hold and I expected 
 to be acquitted after trial. At that time it seemed 
 as if it ought to be easy to detect the real criminal, 
 and I was full of hope for what would happen when 
 I was free again. By the time of the second trial 
 I saw things differently." 
 
 " Even then it was not too late to vindicate your- 
 self by a statement of facts," I argued. 
 
 " It was too late unless I dragged Dolly into it, 
 my patient little Dolly ! And do you think I would 
 do that? Great God, Bliss, think of it! Would 
 you want the name of the woman you love, or of 
 your sister, if you have one, on every tongue in con- 
 nection with such a case ? Had I seen the end from 
 the beginning understood that I should be under 
 suspicion unless I revealed the truth, I might have 
 done differently." 
 
 " Did Mi^ Somhers know of your plan to 
 marry ? " 
 
 " I think that he surmised it, and it was a great 
 irritation to him. He liked Dolly and told me fre- 
 quently that she was altogether too good for me. 
 On that last day when I announced to him that I 
 meant to strike out for myself, and should not return
 
 200 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 again to Overlook until I was independent, he 
 taunted me with the probable long wait that I should 
 have before I should again see Dolly. It was that 
 last quarrel, more than all the rest, I believe, that 
 broke me up afterward. That he was murdered was 
 bad enough, but that he had gone suddenly, with my 
 angry, bitter words still rankling in his heart, as I 
 knew that they would rankle, was what told on me." 
 
 Milbrath appeared to have spoken the last sen- 
 tences more to himself than to me. 
 
 " I cared more for the governor than I thought, I 
 suppose," he added, and his voice shook. 
 
 " Does Mr. McClure know that his little girl is 
 Mrs. Milbrath?" 
 
 " Yes ; he was with us in Boston and returned 
 to Winton with her directly following the ceremony. 
 Like Mr. Longman he fretted against his secrecy 
 and my obstinacy. Poor old man ! If only I could 
 have seen things as I see them now! I could have 
 saved many a heartache." 
 
 " And now it is for Kilbourne to know," I re- 
 flected aloud, and I realized that another heartache 
 would be the result. 
 
 " He must be told for the sake of his happiness 
 as well as for Dolly," Milbrath said soberly. 
 
 Half an hour later I stepped into Kilbourne's 
 room. 
 
 " You '11 be back to-morrow in time for lunch ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Sure thing, unless you 'd prefer to have me stay 
 away."
 
 A KEVELATION 201 
 
 " On the contrary, I should like to have you here 
 without fail. Mr. Milbrath will lunch with us for 
 the express purpose of having a few words with 
 you." 
 
 " With me ? Me ! Do my ears deceive me ? " 
 
 " Hardly. I said ' to have a few words with 
 you." 
 
 Kilbourne was shaving and his cheeks were cov- 
 ered with lather, but he lowered his razor and turn- 
 ing about stared at me absently for a second. I do 
 not think that a suspicion of what Milbrath would 
 have to say to him crossed his mind. 
 
 " I '11 be here for the lunch, laddie, if I must be ; 
 but don't ask too much of me," he replied. 
 
 As I passed out of the room he called: 
 
 " Better come along in the morning. We '11 be 
 off about seven." 
 
 For a while after I returned to my room I puffed 
 fiercely at my blackest pipe and through the rings 
 of smoke sent upward meditated to the ceiling upon 
 the events of the evening. Presently my " Black 
 Beauty " failed in comfort. I began to be tortured 
 by a consciousness that it was up to me to prepare 
 Kilbourne's mind for what Milbrath had to tell him, 
 that I should have done so, in spite of the picnic, 
 before we parted for the night. I knew Kilbourne's 
 capacity for suffering, and I feared that a blow that 
 touched his heart would be the hardest blow to bear. 
 
 There had been times that I could recall when I 
 had thought that some sharp misfortune or failure 
 that touched his pride or his heart was what Kil- 
 bourne needed to rouse him to a realization of his
 
 202 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 own egotistical and, in many respects, wholly selfish 
 attitude toward life. Something to stimulate his 
 sympathies, to put him in closer touch with the 
 tears of the world, and to help him recall more often 
 that the earth did not revolve for Kilbourne alone, 
 might mean to develop the kindly traits of his 
 naturally generous and noble character. But he 
 was my friend, and I dreaded to see the reforming 
 agent arrive. 
 
 Dawn streaked the horizon when, at last, I fell 
 asleep, and day was astir and well on with her house- 
 work when again I opened my eyes and saw that 
 the hands of the little clock on the dressing-table 
 pointed to seven-thirty. 
 
 I sprang up, appalled at the lateness of the hour, 
 and ran to the window to see whether Brown's boat 
 had made a start. The marine glasses, which I 
 called to Gaspard to bring, showed me that she was 
 well past the lighthouse, moving swiftly before a 
 fresh breeze. There was, therefore, nothing to do 
 but await Kilbourne's return. 
 
 I dressed hastily and went out to the walk on the 
 bluff where for half an hour I paced with the sweet 
 sea and grass-scented air in my face and awaited 
 Gaspard's call to breakfast.
 
 CHAPTER XXIH 
 
 BANKER CRANE LENDS A HAND 
 
 AST drove into town a few hours later, I watched 
 -^*- in vain for Milbrath, hoping to meet him and 
 persuade him to join me in the visit to the bank. 
 The president of the bank of Winton was easy of 
 access, for he was likewise its cashier and its teller. 
 We had met before, so there was no need to make 
 myself known, except in the role of investigator of 
 the mystery of Overlook. Then I told him that I 
 had come to solicit his assistance. 
 
 He regarded me steadily for a moment, and then 
 gravely informed me that if to give me help were 
 consistent with the honor of his position he should 
 be pleased to do all in his power. Whereupon I 
 asked him without circumvention whether to his 
 knowledge and remembrance Mr. Somhers ever 
 drew a check to one Philander Summerfield. 
 
 " He drew several to Philander Summerfield," 
 Mr. Crane answered promptly. 
 
 " At close intervals ? " 
 
 " All that I know of were drawn within two 
 months." 
 
 "And the last?" 
 
 "The last was dated about fifteen days before 
 Mr. Somhers' death and was deposited in the Sec- 
 ond National Bank of New York three days later."
 
 204 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Was this last check for a large amount ? " 
 
 " For thirty thousand dollars." 
 
 " Ah ! You have an extraordinary memory, Mr. 
 Crane." 
 
 " I have reason to remember these instances. The 
 first checks would have made no more impression 
 upon my memory than any others that Mr. Somhers 
 drew through our little bank, had it not been for 
 this last large amount, which I had only just secured 
 at Mr. Somhers' request on some P. & U. bonds. 
 
 " Were these facts of no value in the search for 
 the assassin of Mr. Somhers ? " 
 
 " They appeared not to be. I made mention of 
 the last check' to the chief of police, as it seemed to 
 me that it might have a bearing upon the case, but 
 he and his colleagues declared it to be without prob- 
 able connection, as the return voucher was in my 
 hands fully a week before the crime." 
 
 "Did Mr. Milbrath's counsel agree with the 
 police ? " 
 
 " I did not refer the matter to them. Upon 
 further consideration, I concluded that the police 
 were doubtless right. Moreover, it is hardly politic 
 for me to publish, without important reason, the 
 affairs of our clients." 
 
 "I dare say. Do you, however, happen to know 
 anything about this Philander Summerfield ? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever." 
 
 " It seems to me that you were quite right in feel- 
 ing that the reason for so large a check should have 
 been explained before the coroner, or, at least, at 
 Mr. Milbrath's trials, and I shall endeavor to go
 
 BANKER CRANE LENDS A HAND 205 
 
 back a few years and look for the receiver of the 
 check. Does any other point occur to you that may 
 be useful to me ? " 
 
 Mr. Crane deliberated. 
 
 " I fear not, Mr. Bliss. I wish you every success, 
 however, and I hope that every vestige of doubt may 
 be removed from Harry, if the law was quite right 
 in its last judgment of the case." 
 
 We shook hands after this cautious expression of 
 good will, and I went out into the street and up to 
 the post office, where the " faculty " was holding its 
 usual morning session upon the piazza. I joined 
 them, and for an hour listened to the desultory 
 gossip. 
 
 Just before noon I drove back to Overlook, and 
 found that Milbrath was already there. 
 
 " I think I can show you the route from here 
 to the Winton station taken by your mysterious 
 visitor," he said as I came up. " There is a trail 
 that I used when I was a lad, and sometimes of late 
 years, even, when I raced over to watch the trains. 
 I came through it to-day, and there are evidences 
 that it is still used occasionally." He made a dia- 
 gram with a pencil on a piece of paper which showed 
 me a cut through the woods of which I had no 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Who besides you knew of this trail ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, I can't be sure that anyone did. The few 
 chaps that uncle permitted me to associate with, 
 uncle himself and Joe Arms are the ones most likely 
 to learn of it. And the boys are either dead or gone 
 from town," he added reflectively.
 
 206 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Has Kilbourne returned ? " 
 
 " I think not. I called at Red Gables and found 
 Mr. McClure alone. We talked for an hour, and 
 when I came over here the others had not put in an 
 appearance. Did you see Mr. Crane ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, and repeated the conversa- 
 tion that I had with the banker. Milbrath became 
 excited. 
 
 " By George! " he cried. " We'll look that up 
 as soon as we reach Boston. I don't remember any 
 vouchers, but doubtless they are with a pile of truck 
 that has been in a deposit vault for the past six 
 months. The indorsement on the check ought to 
 prove whether the old fellow who pressed you into 
 commission is the one who got the money from 
 uncle. Certainly there were never two of that 
 name." 
 
 At that moment we were interrupted by Gaspard, 
 who declared that our lunch would be spoiled if 
 we delayed eating it for another minute. A glance 
 at my watch showed me that it was already half an 
 hour past the usual lunch time ; so we went inside. 
 
 The hour passed without the appearance of Kil- 
 bourne, and I confess that I felt considerably nettled 
 by his conduct He had no right to ignore the re- 
 quest of Milbrath, who, as owner of Overlook, was, 
 in point of fact, his host. So I sent Gaspard to Red 
 Gables to inquire whether the party had returned 
 from their sail, and to ask Mr. Kilbourne whether 
 he had forgotten that he was to lunch with me. 
 
 During Gaspard's absence Milbrath grew silent, 
 and sat in an absorbed attitude under a great tree
 
 BANKER CRANE LENDS A HAND 207 
 
 on the lawn, a paper which he did not read in his 
 hands. 
 
 " Zay have arrive, m'sieu. Zay all eat on zee 
 grass so," Gaspard announced with a flourish. 
 " Zee m'sieu Ke-bourne vill come how he zay ? 
 pre-sent-ly." 
 
 I knew from that form of answer that Kilbourne 
 had not forgotten his engagement with me, but had 
 indolently ignored my request to return to Over- 
 look to lunch because of the fascination of the 
 moment at the other end of the line. That was 
 Kilbourne to the letter. Nevertheless I felt my in- 
 dignation getting beyond bounds. I perceived that 
 Milbrath saw the matter in its true light, but he 
 took it sensibly. 
 
 A half-hour, perhaps, passed in silence during 
 which we both made a pretense at reading. Then 
 Milbrath rose from the ground where, for a time, 
 he had been lying face downward and shook him- 
 self like a great Newfoundland dog. 
 
 " I have an Indian's habit of listening from the 
 ground," he said, " and an Indian's ear for foot- 
 steps. I think it is Kilbourne approaching. If 
 you will excuse me I will go to meet him." He 
 walked leisurely down the roadway, and near the 
 entrance Kilbourne and he met. 
 
 I had returned to the portico, and looking down 
 I saw them at that moment. I turned away, sorry 
 to my heart's core for Kilbourne. I felt that in 
 Dolly McClure he had found the one woman who 
 could hold his affection through a lifetime, and 
 that the loss of her would mean at first a crushing
 
 208 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 sense of the world's incompleteness and later, in his 
 books, an idealization of femininity by the side of 
 which all others would be found lacking. 
 
 I turned into the house, loath to meet Kilbourne 
 just then, but he came directly to me in the library 
 and closed the door behind him. His face was livid, 
 and there was an expression of pain such as I never 
 dreamed to see in his deep-set, dark eyes. He 
 crossed the room and flung himself into the reading 
 chair. Resting his head against the high back he 
 closed his eyes. 
 
 I made a pretense of writing as I sat before the 
 desk, but my pen dragged, and at length I let it 
 drop and turned toward Kilbourne. From the 
 twitch of his eyelids I could see that he was thinking 
 rapidly, not resting, and presently his eyes opened 
 full upon me. He glanced at the little Swiss clock 
 that ticked upon the wall ; then he rose and came 
 to me. 
 
 " There is a train at four. I must take it. Will 
 you arrange ? " 
 
 I nodded. " Kilbourne," I began, but he inter- 
 rupted me with a motion. 
 
 " Don't ! " he cried brokenly. " I know, but I 
 cannot hear it. Lad, what did I tell you about 
 Milbrath?" He shivered as if with cold. "Will 
 you again doubt my intuition ? " 
 
 I did not answer. 
 
 " But I knew it from her first Good God, Elmer, 
 to think that in my ignorance I put her to that 
 my Dolly whom I would shield and spare ! " 
 
 He covered his face with his hands and rocked
 
 BANKER CRANE LENDS A HAND 209 
 
 back and forth. The man had forgotten himself in 
 the love he held for the girl he had pained, and, for 
 a time at least, the egotist was translated into a 
 man of grief. 
 
 Presently he touched me on the shoulder. The 
 act was a caress. 
 
 " Laddie," he said, " I must be alone and 
 think." 
 
 I rose at once and pushed my chair toward him. 
 
 " I will see Gaspard about the carriage and come 
 for you when it is ready. There is yet an hour 
 before you need to leave here," I answered, and left 
 the room. 
 
 On the portico steps I found Milbrath whittling 
 a stick. He looked perturbed and pale. 
 
 " I 'm going to Boston this afternoon, you know, 
 though it must be on the later train," he said and 
 looked inquiringly at me. 
 
 " I will join you in the morning. My plans are 
 changed for to-day," and I referred to Kilbourne's 
 proposed departure. " Gaspard will drive you to 
 the station." 
 
 " I must return first to the Winton House, and I 
 will drive over from there. No, thanks, I will not 
 drive in. It is only a short walk to the hotel by my 
 trail." 
 
 He extended his hand as he spoke, and a moment 
 later he had disappeared among the trees on the 
 lawn. 
 
 I went to the stable and waited until the horses 
 were hitched. 
 
 When I drove up to the house, Kilbourne stood in 
 14
 
 210 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the doorway, suitcase in hand. He came out silently 
 and paused with one foot on the carriage step as he 
 looked lovingly over the place, his eyes taking in the 
 sweep of the green lawn, the curve of the bluff, the 
 stretch of ocean beyond the bay; and I knew that 
 in spite of the grief in his heart and the feeling that 
 he held toward Milbrath there still remained for 
 him a powerful attraction in this " place of silence."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MR. SUMMERFIELD ELUDES 
 
 WHEN" I reached Boston on the following day, 
 I had no difficulty in finding Milbrath, for 
 he stood in the door of the Parker House, his face 
 full of excitement. 
 
 " You look as if you 'd had the time of your life," 
 I said. " What 's up ? " 
 
 " I Ve seen your Summerfield and he led me a 
 chase, I can tell you ! " He laughed somewhat 
 ruefully as he added : " I '11 have to confess that in 
 the end I proved myself an ass." 
 
 " That, no doubt, is a matter of opinion. How 
 did you reach the conclusion?" 
 
 " Why, I followed the old chap and but to start 
 at the beginning. I opened my operations this 
 morning with a visit to the deposit vault, where I 
 looked over a box full of papers that were turned 
 over to me by the executors of uncle's will. It con- 
 tained mortgages and bonds, insurance policies and 
 signed notes principally, on none of which I found 
 the name of Philander Summerfield. There were 
 two checks made to him, however, and here they 
 are." 
 
 Milbrath produced them, and before they were 
 in my hands I recognized on their backs the small, 
 cramped handwriting that Murray Kilbourne was
 
 212 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the first to declare assumed, the indorsement of 
 " Philander H. Summerfield." His second initial 
 he had not given to me, but the two persons were 
 undoubtedly the same. 
 
 " This is Mr. Somhers' hand ? " I asked, indicat- 
 ing the face of the check. 
 
 Milbrath assented. 
 
 I drew forth a bill receipted by " J. A. Rice, 
 M. D., Beacon Street, Boston," for services ren- 
 dered Mr. Francis Somhers from January to Sep- 
 tember, 18 , to which was pinned the voucher 
 for the check given at that time by Mr. Peter 
 Somhers in payment of the bill, and compared the 
 writing on the two checks. They were written by 
 the same hand and although an interval of years lay 
 between their dates there was no appreciable change 
 in the chirography. In both cases it was upright 
 and firm. 
 
 " Your uncle retained an extraordinarily youth- 
 ful hand," I remarked. " It looks like the writing 
 of an even-tempered man." 
 
 " Uncle Peter was scarcely that, but he rarely dis- 
 played temper to anyone but me. Now, here is 
 another check that, because of its size, may interest 
 you." 
 
 It was made to " Albert Emerson," and was for 
 ten thousand dollars. It showed deposit in the First 
 National Bank of Boston and was drawn on May 
 5th, 1892, five months before Mr. Somhers' death. 
 
 " It would be interesting to know for what ser- 
 vices these large checks were given," I remarked. 
 " But, how did you get at Summerfield ? "
 
 ME. SUMMERFIELD ELUDES 213 
 
 " I went from the deposit vaults to the post office, 
 hoping to learn something there about the old gentle- 
 man, but I made no headway. I took a look at 
 Box 940, and saw a letter there plainly addressed 
 to Philander Summerfield. It was postmarked 
 New York four days ago. That seemed proof that 
 the old fellow had not visited the post office in three 
 days and I thought it was worth while to wait 
 around a bit and take a chance on his coming this 
 morning. 
 
 " I had not long to wait, as it happened. Within 
 half an hour I observed an elderly man who tallied 
 with your description of Summerfield. He entered 
 the section where Box 940 is located and where I 
 stood, pretending to be absorbed in a list of un- 
 called-for letters. I was the only person in there, 
 and he paused, probably to see whether he knew 
 me, darted like a ferret to the box and extracted the 
 letter, then whisked around and, with another glance 
 at me, was out of the room in a twinkling. 
 
 " It was then that I made my mistake, for I fol- 
 lowed him at once. I stepped as softly as possible 
 (and I wear rubber heels), but the old fellow must 
 be in fear of being tracked, for at the entrance door 
 he turned abruptly and looked at me. 
 
 " I endeavored to appear unconcerned, but his 
 move was so unexpected that I dare say I betrayed 
 my surprise. His whiskers parted in a sardonic 
 grin and upon my soul, Mr. Bliss, for one instant 
 I thought that my uncle Peter stood before me. 
 Many are the times that I have seen just such an 
 expression on uncle's face when he was upbraiding
 
 214 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 me, and this man's eyes were half closed in the same 
 demoniacal fashion. I assure you I 'm ready 
 enough now to accept your suggestion that Summer- 
 field is a relative. 
 
 " Well, I had enough presence of mind to assume 
 an expression of surprise at his manner and turn to 
 a writing table by a window. From the corner of 
 my eye I watched him leave the building and enter 
 a herdic that stood by the curb, and drive away. 
 
 " Within another minute I, too, was in a herdic 
 and in hot pursuit, for I meant to see where the old 
 man put up if it cost a fortune, and I instructed my 
 driver somewhat to that effect 
 
 " For a quarter of an hour, perhaps, we whirled 
 along, up one street and down another until we were 
 well away from downtown. I think, from the way 
 we dodged about, that Summerfield believed he was 
 being followed and hoped by his devious course to 
 evade me. 
 
 " Suddenly we slowed down. There had been an 
 accident of some kind in the street ahead of us and 
 the road was blocked by people and carriages. Sum- 
 merfield had got ahead of the crowd and turned at 
 the next corner. There was nothing for us to do but 
 turn around, dash down a parallel street to the next 
 turn and come out presently in view again of a 
 herdic which we had every reason to believe the one 
 that we were following. After a few minutes my 
 driver looked down. 
 
 " ' The fare ahead, sir, has drove up to a block/ 
 he said. 
 
 " ' Then drive very slowly past him,' I answered.
 
 MR SUMMEEFIELD ELUDES 215 
 
 " My man gave a surprised whistle. ' Gee ! ' he 
 exclaimed, ' It ain't the same ! ' 
 
 " And it was not. The carriage ahead of us 
 had carried a lady and child who were mounting a 
 doorstep at that moment, and as we passed their 
 herdic I saw that they had been alone in it With- 
 out doubt we made our mistake when we had to 
 turn back. 
 
 " I can't help thinking how pleased old Summer- 
 field must be to think that he gave me the slip so 
 easily ! Do you suppose that he fears being tracked 
 and is continually on the lookout for sleuths ? " 
 
 "Your experience with him makes it seem that 
 way. There 's certainly a screw loose with the old 
 gentleman, and I '11 notify him to-day that I will 
 positively take no more money from him, nor longer 
 consider myself in his service. Indeed, I think 
 that he will have to explain his conduct, anyway, or 
 I shall go openly on his track. Did he remind you 
 of Mr. Somhers aside from his expression at the mo- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " I hardly know. He is shorter, I think, and 
 stoops. Uncle was quite erect. He is considerably 
 older, too, I should judge, but a beard makes a great 
 difference in a man's appearance. Uncle wore only 
 a mustache." 
 
 " Was Mr. Francis Somhers older ? " 
 
 " I am not certain. I think he was younger." 
 
 " Well, when we have finished here, we '11 call 
 upon this Dr. Rice, if you don't object. Perhaps 
 he can help us settle the question of whether Francis 
 Somhers, whom he treated, actually died."
 
 216 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " I 'm with you. The sooner we get some light 
 on these points, the better satisfied I shall be." 
 
 At five o'clock, accordingly, after I had mailed a 
 brief note to Mr. Summerfield, in which I notified 
 him that I was in Boston and must request him to 
 grant me an interview and be prepared to explain 
 his connection with the late Peter Somhers or per- 
 mit me to waive my contract with him, Milbrath 
 and I found ourselves being admitted by a neatly 
 gowned maid to a waiting-room in a pretentious 
 English basement house in the then most fashion- 
 able quarter of Boston ; for we had found Dr. Rice's 
 address without difficulty. 
 
 There were a number of patients ahead of us, but 
 when we took our turn the room in which we sat 
 was vacated save by ourselves. I had caught an 
 occasional glimpse of Dr. Rice, as his door opened 
 and closed. He was a short, florid man of fifty, 
 perhaps, given to a blandness of speech which seems 
 so often to accompany his type of figure. By pre- 
 arrangement I acted as spokesman and, presenting 
 my card, I introduced Milbrath as my friend Mr. 
 Nelson. 
 
 " We are here, Dr. Rice, to consult you on a 
 matter rather different, I fancy, from your general 
 run of cases," I said, and the doctor bestowed upon 
 us a quick, inscrutable glance as he motioned us to 
 chairs. " I have been put in charge of some matters 
 relating to the estate of the late Peter Somhers of 
 Winton, whose tragic death two years ago you may 
 recall ? " 
 
 The doctor inclined his head slightly, but from
 
 MR. SUMMERFIELD ELUDES 217 
 
 his expression I learned nothing as to whether the 
 name stirred any other recollections. 
 
 " I find it important to learn more of the death 
 about sixteen years ago of Mr. Somhers' brother, 
 Francis Somhers, who was, I believe, your patient 
 at that time." 
 
 Dr. Rice laughed mirthlessly. 
 
 " You ask a good deal of a busy man's memory," 
 he said. " Sixteen years is a considerable time to 
 remember a patient of ordinary interest." 
 
 " I appreciate the truth of your words, and so far 
 as I know there was nothing in this Mr. Somhers' 
 case to render it more likely to be remembered than 
 any one of a dozen others that you may have had in 
 the same year. But your practice was doubtless 
 more limited at that time, and if you will permit me 
 to tell you what I know of Mr. Somhers' last days 
 it is possible that you may recall him." 
 
 Quickly I related what Milbrath had told me of 
 the last stages of his uncle's career. But the doc- 
 tor's face remained impassive. 
 
 " The description fits a large number of cases that 
 I have had," he said. 
 
 " Will this photograph help you ? " It was a 
 picture that I had found the evening before in an 
 album of photographs at Overlook. It was marked 
 " Francis Somhers, 1875," so was unmistakable. 
 
 Dr. Rice shook his head after a moment's study. 
 
 " This receipt, then, which shows that your bill 
 was paid by Mr. Peter Somhers ? " 
 
 Dr. Rice scrutinized the receipt. 
 
 " It is mine, undoubtedly," he said handing
 
 218 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it back to me, " but I regret that it stirs no 
 recollection." 
 
 I gazed at the doctor's impassive face for a full 
 second with the conviction that either the picture or 
 the bill had, notwithstanding his assertion, awak- 
 ened some recollection which he was withholding. 
 Then I rose. 
 
 " It is useless, then, to trouble you further at 
 present," I said. " Later I may be able to present 
 some point, if you will permit me, that will rouse 
 your memory. I hope so, at least, for it is impor- 
 tant that I obtain some facts regarding Mr. Somhers' 
 last illness which only his physician at the time can 
 give me. I thank you, Dr. Rice, for the time that 
 you have given me." 
 
 " That is not to be considered," responded the 
 doctor cautiously, betraying in the phrase his Penn- 
 sylvania origin. Then he hesitated perceptibly. 
 " If you will call at this hour to-morrow I may have 
 some news for you," he said as we gained the en- 
 trance door. " It has been my custom from my 
 earliest practice to keep a record of my patients, the 
 nature of their maladies, their constitutional pe- 
 culiarities and, frequently, of features personal to 
 them or to the case. I will endeavor to get at the 
 record book for that year," and the doctor made an 
 entry in a tiny book that he drew from his coat 
 pocket 
 
 " Well, we did n't make a whole lot from that 
 trip," commented Milbrath cheerfully as we stepped 
 into the herdic that had brought us. 
 
 " And I doubt whether we shall make much more
 
 MR. SUMMERFIELD ELUDES 219 
 
 when we return to-morrow. It looks a little as if 
 the doctor were hiding a card or two from us. 
 Of course he may merely wish to prove his sur- 
 mises before he speaks, which caused him to put 
 us off." 
 
 " I suppose it is possible for Uncle Francis to be 
 alive and for Dr. Rice to know nothing of the fact," 
 said Milbrath thoughtfully. 
 
 " His bill shows that he treated Mr. Somhers up 
 to the month that you believe him to have died," I 
 responded. 
 
 " Well, if that fossil I saw yesterday proves to be 
 Uncle Francis," Milbrath said, " I 'm willing to go 
 shares with him on the money and property question, 
 but I 'm afraid my interest in him would die there. 
 But he is not Uncle Francis," he added presently 
 with a return of his cheerful confidence. "Uncle 
 Francis died when I was a boy. This Summerfield 
 is some one else, though perhaps a distant relative 
 whom I have never known." 
 
 " Perhaps my letter will bring a solution to that 
 point very soon. I think, however, we had better 
 continue to work along the lines we have mapped 
 out. To-morrow we will make an effort to get hold 
 of one or more of those men who put up the south 
 wing. To-night we might, perhaps, take a step 
 toward learning where Summerfield left the herdic 
 this morning." 
 
 " How ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " By advertisement. What do you think of 
 this ? " I tore a sheet from my notebook and on it 
 wrote:
 
 220 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Fifty dollars reward for the number of the herdic 
 that on August 30th, about ten o'clock in the morning, 
 before the general post office, took in an elderly man 
 with gray hair, gray whiskers, blue eyes, and rounded 
 shoulders. Old man may have driven to post office in 
 same herdic. N., Room 34, Parker House. 
 
 " That 's all right It ought to be fruitful of 
 results, unless Summerfield has already offered as 
 good an inducement for the driver's silence." 
 
 " A possibility, of course. We '11 insert this in 
 every daily paper in the city, however. Come, we 
 are near the Globe office now, and we can telephone 
 from there to the other papers. After that I vote 
 for dinner."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A DISCOVEEY 
 
 rilHE information that I had been able to obtain 
 J- concerning the men who did the alterations at 
 Overlook was confined to the name of Johnson, and 
 he, from his clothes, was presumed to be a mason. 
 The name of Johnson in the Boston directory ran 
 into a list quite appalling in length, and I took the 
 addresses of nine who were designated as masons, 
 and of five whose occupation was given as carpenter, 
 while Milbrath looked up the only " Summerfield " 
 who appeared in the directory. He proved to be 
 young, and was ignorant of the existence of the man 
 we sought. 
 
 We decided to defer our first calls until evening, 
 and, at the appointed hour, we found ourselves again 
 waiting in Dr. Rice's outer office. Almost imme- 
 diately that gentleman appeared at the door and 
 motioned us into his consulting room. 
 
 " I think that I may be a trifle helpful to-night, 
 gentlemen," he said, extending a strong " square " 
 hand. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to have you say so. You have 
 recalled the case of Mr. Francis Somhers ? " 
 
 " I was able to get at my old records, and while 
 I am enabled to bring up only a fleeting recollection 
 of the man, I have here some data concerning the
 
 222 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 r As he spoke the doctor drew from a drawer in his 
 desk a large, gray-covered book labeled conspicu- 
 ously :" Records : 18 ." 
 
 " I think, Mr. Bliss, that I am still in doubt as 
 to just what kind of information you desire about 
 Mr. Somhers' case." 
 
 " The nature of his malady, for one thing." 
 
 " Ah, that will be easily ascertained, I think. 
 Here ! ' Mr. Francis Somhers, United States Hotel. 
 First call made January 17th; patient expired 
 two p. M., Saturday, September 18th. Cause: car- 
 diac stenosis.' In unprofessional English, gentle- 
 men, a valvular disease of the heart." 
 
 " A lingering disease, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Mr. Somhers appears to have suffered from it 
 for years. I have here a memorandum to that 
 effect." 
 
 " You recall Mr. Somhers sufficiently well to be 
 certain that he died ? " 
 
 With a short forefinger marking a line Dr. Rice 
 looked over his spectacles at me, his round blue eyes 
 wide in question and surprise. 
 
 " There can be no doubt that he died." 
 
 " No possibility that circulation was restored after 
 life appeared extinct ? " 
 
 "I do not know your purpose, Mr. Bliss, in 
 making these extraordinary inquiries. I can only 
 say that it is highly improbable that resuscitation 
 was effected. Everything that science knew at that 
 time was probably done to save Mr. Somhers and, 
 to my best knowledge and belief, without avail. If 
 he has appeared to be alive at any time since Sep-
 
 A DISCOVERY 223 
 
 tember 18th, 18 , I cannot explain the phenome- 
 non. Is there any other point, Mr. Bliss ? " 
 
 I had followed Dr. Rice's words and expression 
 closely and they left no room for reasonable doubt 
 as to his sincerity. I observed that Milbrath was 
 of like mind. 
 
 " You have satisfied me fully," I responded. " It 
 may interest you to have me explain that those near- 
 est in kin to the late Mr. Francis Somhers have had 
 some reason of late to feel that he might still be 
 living, and if he be alive it is of the greatest con- 
 ceivable importance that he be found." 
 
 Dr. Rice closed the book of records and replaced 
 it methodically in the drawer from which he had 
 taken it 
 
 " May I ask whether you have seen the man 
 thought to be Mr. Somhers ? " 
 
 " I saw him once, but it was after I lost track of 
 him that I first had occasion to attach connection 
 between him and the Somhers family." 
 
 " You showed me a photograph of Mr. Somhers. 
 Have you the picture with you this evening ? " 
 
 I produced it and handed it to the doctor who 
 gazed at it thoughtfully but with no change of 
 expression. 
 
 " Allowing for a difference in age the face is very 
 like an office patient whom I have treated occasion- 
 ally during the past year." 
 
 My heart leaped into my throat, and I noted Mil- 
 brath's sharp intake of breath. 
 
 " Will you favor me with the name of your pa- 
 tient, doctor ? "
 
 224 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Your case hinges, do I understand correctly, 
 upon proving whether Mr. Francis Somhers died or 
 is still living ? " 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " You will find, I feel sure, that Mr. Somhers' 
 record closed with the one I made of his troubles. 
 My present patient bears the name of Summerfield, 
 P. H. Summerfield." 
 
 " Ah ! Can you give me the address of this Mr. 
 Summerfield ? " 
 
 " I regret that I cannot do so. As I have said, 
 he has been an office patient and my relations with 
 him have been confined to consultations here." 
 
 Dr. Rice's manner now reflected signs of polite 
 impatience. I recalled that his dinner was doubt- 
 less waiting. 
 
 " We are greatly obliged to you, Dr. Rice," I 
 said, " I will endeavor to locate Mr. Summerfield 
 and learn whether he is the man we seek. You can 
 hardly say, I suppose, when he is likely to call upon 
 you again ? " 
 
 " I have not the remotest idea." 
 
 " Then I will bid you good evening, Dr. Rice." 
 
 When we were again in the street Milbrath 
 slapped me across the shoulders. 
 
 " Our case strengthens ! " he cried, " but what in- 
 fernal luck we have in getting at the old fellow." 
 
 " If it comes to that we can give a description of 
 him into the hands of four detectives and have Dr. 
 Rice's house watched day and night until we get 
 him, although of course he may never visit Dr. Rice 
 again."
 
 A DISCOVEEY 225 
 
 Milbrath considered. Then he pulled me by the 
 sleeve. 
 
 " Come, let us be off to an agency and get the 
 men to work at once. I 'm willing to risk the cost 
 of the men for a few weeks on the chance of getting 
 him ultimately. Hi! There's a herdic turning 
 down Marlborough Street," and he whistled for it. 
 
 We entered the vehicle and drove to the Pingree 
 Detective Agency, where we engaged men who were 
 detailed for immediate duty. 
 
 When we returned to the hotel I found a special 
 delivery note, forwarded by Gaspard, from Kil- 
 bourne in which he announced that he had taken 
 passage on a steamer sailing on Saturday for Liver- 
 pool and implored me to come to town and stay with 
 him for at least a few hours before that time. 
 
 I felt that I could ill afford to spare time just 
 then for any personal matter, but I felt, also, that I 
 owed Kilbourne too much to refuse his request with- 
 out urgent reason. Therefore I wired him that I 
 would join him on the following afternoon, and 
 then communicated my change of programme to 
 Milbrath. 
 
 " I think I understand how you feel about leav- 
 ing," he said, " but you really need n't be bothered. 
 You Ve given me a very fair idea of how to go 
 ahead, you know, and I believe that I can keep 
 things in hand for a few days." 
 
 " Then I think I '11 stop at Overlook on my way 
 back. If my mysterious visitor with unsigned warn- 
 ings is Summerfield it is probable, I suppose, that 
 he lit out for somewhere when he found you on his 
 
 15
 
 track, and as likely as not he dropped off at 
 Overlook." 
 
 I was shocked at first by the appearance of Kil- 
 bourne, when he met me at the Grand Central Sta- 
 tion and inquired at once about his health ; but I 
 soon saw that the change was psychical rather than 
 physical that the expression of his eyes, which 
 altered his whole aspect, denoted a change in mind 
 rather than in health. His sympathies had, indeed, 
 been quickened by his trouble. He inquired with 
 more interest than I had known him to display 
 about the progress of my case, and he spoke kindly 
 of Milbrath. 
 
 " I hope you '11 clear him," he said in conclusion, 
 " for he 's a man if ever there was one. But, my 
 God, Bliss! he has ruined my happiness! After 
 this you can scarcely laugh at my l old womanish 
 fancies,' as you call them. How many of them have 
 given me the lie ? " He turned from me sadly, and 
 I had nothing to say. 
 
 It was of this new Kilbourne that I thought many, 
 many times during the year and a half that inter- 
 vened between our meetings: for the next that I 
 saw of him was when I joined him in Vienna. 
 
 It was ten o'clock on Sunday morning when I 
 arrived in Beverly. Gaspard met me with the run- 
 about and I saw at once that he was inflated with 
 suppressed excitement; but I waited until we were 
 well on the road to Overlook before I encouraged 
 him to speak. 
 
 " Zings happen when m'sieu leaves," he said. 
 " Yesterday come zee man bent like zis and old, ask-
 
 A DISCOVEEY 227 
 
 ing for m'sieu. Mon dieu! He look like vhat 
 you call it ? zee de-scrip-sion of zee homme m'sieu 
 seeks ! " 
 
 " Yesterday, did you say ? At what time ? " 
 
 "Near zee noon, m'sieu." 
 
 Had Summerfield waited two days, then, after 
 knowing that he was followed before leaving Bos- 
 ton? If such were the case he had probably re- 
 ceived my note and realized that I was no longer 
 his friend. Perhaps he had come to Winton to 
 reason with me and explain. 
 
 " Tell me just how he acted and what he said, 
 Gaspard." 
 
 "Ma foi! He vas vhat you call it? 
 pe-cu-liar." 
 
 " In what way peculiar ? " 
 
 " Veil, he ring virst at zee front door. ' I speak 
 vid zee M'sieu Blees,' he say. 
 
 " ' Non ; M'sieu Blees n'est pas ici.' 
 
 " He^ smile. 
 
 " ' Ah ! ' zay he, ' an' vhere he iss ? ' 
 
 " I vould zay not'ing but : ' He vill return after 
 a lee-tie.' 
 
 " t M'sieu he iss avay ? ' 
 
 " ' Oui, m'sieu.' 
 
 "'Vhere?' 
 
 " ' Zat I canno' zay. M'sieu Blees he have many 
 zings to do : to-day ici to-morrow ah ! who 
 can tell?'" 
 
 " Good, Gaspard. And then ? " 
 
 "M'sieu turn avay. 
 
 " ' I vill again come,' he zay. Von hour later
 
 I go to zee zide door, for rap comes zere. Standing 
 zere is zee old m'sieu. 
 
 " ' M'sieu Blees, iss he ici ? ' 
 
 " ' Non, m'sieu. II n'est pas arrive.' 
 
 " He smile more. 
 
 " ' An' vhere he iss ? ' 
 
 " I zay again zee ferry words I zay before, an' 
 off starts m'sieu. I vatch him. He go down zee 
 valk and zit on a bench in zee garden. I vatch him 
 zome, zen I vork. Four times more come m'sieu. 
 He zaj zee zame zings. I zay zame vhat you call 
 'em anzers ? 
 
 " He smile each time I zay : ' M'sieu Blees n'est 
 pas arrive.' Each time he go zit down on garden 
 bench and by 'n' by be gone." 
 
 " He left no message ? " 
 
 "Non, m'sieu." 
 
 I considered for a moment the advisability of 
 driving to the hotel to ascertain whether Philander 
 Summerfield was there or had been there, but I 
 decided against doing so. If Summerfield really 
 wished to see me he would call again; if his plan 
 were to mystify or annoy me (as seemed possible 
 from his erratic conduct as described by Gaspard), 
 he would take care to get away from Winton before 
 I returned. 
 
 I decided to drive into town and inquire of Hut- 
 ton whether his old traveler had appeared for the 
 seven o'clock train the previous evening. So I 
 dropped Gaspard at the gates of Overlook and con- 
 tinued on to Winton. Hutton had just got in from 
 church service and sat in his wife's big rocker on
 
 A DISCOVERY 229 
 
 the piazza, of his cottage looking uncomfortable and 
 unfamiliar in his Sunday clothes. He had not 
 seen Summerfield since the day he told me about 
 the old gentleman, and I took my departure pres- 
 ently when a vociferous call to dinner sounded from 
 the inner regions of the cottage, no wiser than I had 
 been before my visit. 
 
 I stopped at the post office, which was open for a 
 few minutes about noon, and found a letter from 
 Milbrath which was entertaining in a description 
 of the experience he had had in getting at the 
 Johnson. It was a curious fact that though he had 
 not yet found Johnson he had happened upon one 
 of the four men who built the wing. This man, 
 while heavy and stupid, was honest, and no persua- 
 sion on Milbrath's part induced him to commit him- 
 self on the subject of the addition. He had been 
 well paid by the " crazy old gent " to keep his 
 mouth shut, and had sworn, literally on a stack of 
 Bibles, he said, never to reveal the secret of the con- 
 struction or to discuss it with his fellow workmen. 
 To the best of his belief the other three men (whose 
 names he would not divulge), employed with 
 him on the work took the same oath. That was 
 all that he could be made to say. 
 
 But the confirmation of my theory that a secret 
 did exist in the construction acted like a tonic to our 
 endeavors, and Milbrath asked whether he should 
 come on and order the wing torn down. 
 
 I read this letter as I jogged slowly homeward. 
 I was digesting its contents mentally as I turned 
 into the main approach to Overlook. The day was
 
 230 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 unusually clear, and the villa stood out in relief 
 against the verdant background. 
 
 All at once I became conscious of something 
 strange in the appearance of the south wing. It was 
 only a trifle, in itself insignificant and without inter- 
 est, but to me at that moment it was the most remark- 
 able thing that I had observed about the place so 
 remarkable, indeed, that I marveled, and marvel yet, 
 that it should have escaped my attention for so long. 
 The chimney into which the fireplace opened at the 
 south end of the library set back fully four feet 
 from the end of the building at the roof, showing 
 that a space that I had not accounted for lay in the 
 wing to the south of the library !
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE SECEET OF THE WING 
 
 A S I strode into the house Gaspard was busy with 
 -^- the last touches to the midday meal, but with 
 military precision he responded to my call to join 
 me in the library. 
 
 " A yardstick or a tape measure," I cried. " Is 
 there one about ? " 
 
 "Oui, m'sieu," and in a few minutes Gaspard 
 produced a measure. 
 
 " Now, the length of this room," I said, and 
 stretched the bit of tape across it. 
 
 Allowing for the width of the bookcases, the room 
 lay thirty feet and three inches to the north and 
 south. The outside wall of the wing measured pre- 
 cisely thirty-eight feet three and one-half inches in 
 the same direction. Counting out the width of the 
 entry between the library and the parlor, four feet 
 and two inches were still unaccounted for on the 
 inside. 
 
 Gaspard regarded me with ill-contained excite- 
 ment, and a smothered exclamation as this truth 
 was proved to us, and my answer was to make a 
 careful examination of the outside walls in search 
 of a hidden door. But not only were the walls to 
 every appearance and sound of solid masonry, but 
 the trailing woodbine upon them was undisturbed,
 
 232 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 and the fern beds at the foundation were un- 
 trampled. It was clear that I must look on the in- 
 side for the entrance to the secret chamber. 
 
 I set myself to considering how light and air were 
 furnished to it. There were no windows or venti- 
 lators, so far as could be seen from the lawn or 
 from below on the roadway ; but that curious, vine- 
 hung parapet rail surrounding the cornice might 
 hide either. Then I recalled that the two rooms 
 on the second floor above the parlors were lighted 
 alone by end windows. We had not used these 
 rooms, but I marveled when I first saw them that 
 so valuable a light as that from the south should 
 be shut out by blank wall space. Now the fact bore 
 new significance for me : for without doubt the roof 
 of the wing contained evidences of a hidden room, 
 against the discovery of which the comfort of the 
 two chambers had counted as nothing to the mind 
 of Peter Somhers. 
 
 To the roof of the wing I must get, therefore, and 
 Gaspard went in search of a ladder. He was obliged 
 to call upon Horsford before he secured one, but the 
 result was worth his trouble : for when, at last, I 
 found myself above the parapet rail my surmises 
 were proved. 
 
 Lying close to the cornice, and below it, was a 
 shaft about ten inches in diameter. I moved the 
 ladder so as to get my face close to one of the open- 
 ings of the cap, but all that I could see was a glim- 
 mer below, like light upon water, or upon a mirror. 
 But the entrance to the secret room? The logical 
 conclusion was that it was from the library, but
 
 THE SECEET OF THE WING 233 
 
 unless those staid bookcases had given us the lie 
 when we cleaned about them, they were immovable 
 a part of the very walls behind them. Was an 
 entrance from the outside by means of an under- 
 ground passage illogical ? Those grottos at the 
 sunken gardens would make ideal entrances to sub- 
 terranean mysteries. Then I recalled that once I 
 had approached them, full, myself, of a spirit of 
 romance, only to find that their fascinating appear- 
 ance ended with the hanging vines around them. 
 
 I felt impelled to visit them again, nevertheless, 
 and my eyes, traveling the distance from one and 
 then the other of the grottos, and back again to the 
 wing, quickly decided me that the secret of entrance 
 to the wing must lie, if in either, in the larger one. 
 
 As on my previous visit, the grotto disappointed 
 me with its uncompromising wall of stone behind 
 the vines which now had begun to display here and 
 there bunches of reddening berries amid the green. 
 But what was that shining between the stones half- 
 way up the wall at my left ? A bit of metal, for all 
 the world, so small as almost to defy detection ! Un- 
 der any other conditions probably I should have 
 thought it only a bit that by chance had been 
 
 mixed in the mortar. But now In an instant 
 
 my hand was upon it, and though it failed to re- 
 spond to my touch and reveal an opening I could not 
 doubt that it connected with a spring lock, and that 
 I stood before a secret door, in all probability the 
 one that I sought. 
 
 By every art that I knew I endeavored to coax 
 the spring to answer to my manipulations of the
 
 234 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 bit of steel, but without success, and Gaspard, who 
 had followed me with the ladder, spent not only his 
 patience but a fine assortment of French impreca- 
 tions upon it and all in vain. 
 
 There was yet one more hope left for getting at 
 the secret room. 
 
 " Gaspard," I said, " I 'm going to wire Mr. 
 Milbrath to join me immediately, and I want 
 you to take the telegram over to Winton; but first 
 we '11 have one more try at this puzzle. Do you 
 suppose that if we unloaded the bookcases at the 
 sides of the fireplace in the library we could move 
 them?" 
 
 Gaspard shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Well, so I supposed, but let us prove it." 
 
 " Certainement, m'sieu." 
 
 We returned to the library, and Gaspard began 
 to remove the volumes from the shelves to the west 
 of the fireplace, while I unloaded the shelves at the 
 east. 
 
 Very quickly we came upon a difference. The 
 shelves on which I was at work were backed by wal- 
 nut boards like themselves, instead of by the plas- 
 tered wall, as elsewhere in the room. It required 
 but a moment's thought to explain the reason for 
 the difference. The wooden back hid the secret 
 door! These shelves, then, must move; but even 
 with the last book out they would not budge. We 
 examined their surface inch by inch for a fastening, 
 but not a sign of one could we find. It was plain 
 that these cases swung into the room upon strong 
 hinges, and that the lock was on the other side. The
 
 THE SECRET OF THE WING 235 
 
 only way to get beyond, therefore, was to tear down 
 the woodwork nearest us. This I disliked to do 
 unless Milbrath were present. I therefore aban- 
 doned the investigation for the time, and Gaspard 
 cantered into Winton with the telegram. 
 
 I had wired Milbrath to come, if possible, on 
 the six forty-five from Boston ; and long before that 
 train was due in Beverly I was driving stationward. 
 Inactivity at that time was out of the question for 
 me, and I felt that I could not sleep until I knew 
 the secret of the hidden room. 
 
 During the afternoon I had tried to pass the time 
 in a call at Red Gables, but found that Dolly had 
 gone to Providence to shop with Mrs. Foster for a 
 few days, and that Mr. McClure was out for a drive 
 in the canopy-covered phaeton. 
 
 For a time, therefore, I rowed on the bay, but 
 even that exercise failed to steady my pulse, and 
 from then until I made a start for Beverly, I vi- 
 brated like a restless schoolgirl between the dis- 
 mantled shelves in the library and the secret door 
 in the grotto, which, as the evening came on, was 
 flooded with the uncertain light from a waning moon. 
 
 I was conscious of relief when Milbrath stepped 
 from the train. He handed to me a letter as he 
 greeted me, and I saw that it was from Mr. Sum- 
 merfield. I tore it open under the light from the 
 station lamp, and read aloud: 
 
 ME. BLISS, Parker House, 
 
 DEAR YOUNG MAN : Your recent letter is entertain- 
 ing to say the least. You appear to have forgotten
 
 236 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 that you are under contract to work for me, within spe- 
 cifications, for one year, and a signed contract is not a 
 thing to be set aside for a whim. 
 
 I can explain my connection with the late Peter 
 Somhers to your entire satisfaction when I choose, 
 and very likely I shall do so some time. In the 
 meantime go ahead with your twopenny h'penny inves- 
 tigations and forget that you are sometimes a fool. 
 
 PHILANDER SDMMERFIELD. 
 
 "Well, for coolness and insolence that takes the 
 prize ! " exclaimed Milbrath. " Not a word, either, 
 about his visit down here. The old fellow must be 
 daffy. But if he won't meet you, we '11 contrive to 
 meet him. The cabby who got him away from me 
 the other day called upon us to-day." 
 
 " And you learned where he set old Summerfield 
 down ? " 
 
 "He told me that it was on Concord Street at 
 a furnished-room house. He could not recall the 
 number but he said that he could take me to the 
 place." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " That was just as your message came, so I had 
 no time to go with him. But I took his number 
 and told him that I would look him up at his 
 stand in a day or two. What has happened down 
 here ? " 
 
 We were in the carriage by this time, and had 
 turned into the highroad. 
 
 " I have found the secret of the wing, I suppose." 
 
 " Is it a room ? " 
 
 " I dare say it is, though as yet I Ve not got
 
 THE SECKET OF THE WING 237 
 
 inside," and I briefly related my experiences of 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Milbrath listened with widening eyes. 
 
 " By George ! " he cried when I had finished. 
 " What a blind ass I am. Why, I might have known 
 there was a secret way out of the library, but it 
 never seemed reasonable to me until this moment 
 even when you suggested the possibility the other 
 day. Now I remember that uncle used to have a 
 habit of appearing in and disappearing from that 
 room like a magician. I recall one instance in par- 
 ticular. It was during the last summer of his life, 
 and we were discussing, quite amicably, for a won- 
 der, some subject that required reference to a book 
 that lay on a parlor table. I stepped out to get it, 
 and when I returned, an instant later, uncle had 
 disappeared. I looked about in amazement, for, so 
 far as I knew, the only way that he could have left 
 the room was through the windows, which were 
 closed, or through the door on the entry portico. I 
 stepped back to that door, only to find it locked and 
 bolted, and at that moment Uncle Peter's tantaliz- 
 ing laugh rang out in the library, and I found him 
 there in his chair by the fireplace almost doubled 
 with laughter. 
 
 " ' Oh, you 're a keen-eyed, sharp-witted youth ! ' 
 he cried catching his breath, ' a credit to your family 
 and your Varsity, to be sure. Your wit will never 
 save your neck.' 
 
 " I remember his very words, you see." 
 
 " Well, he had his laugh in those days ; we shall 
 have ours now perhaps ; but the first thing that
 
 we want to learn is the purpose of the place to 
 which it leads. Do you feel equal to going ahead 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " I 'm for that before anything else. There 's 
 Gaspard yonder now, and Gaspard has a light burn- 
 ing for you." 
 
 We hurried the horses on, and at the door of the 
 house left them panting and glad to rest, as we pro- 
 ceeded to the library. 
 
 Gaspard had lighted the three lamps in the chan- 
 delier and the reading-lamp with the green shade, 
 so that the room was brilliant. The dismantled 
 shelves with volumes heaped upon the floor gave the 
 apartment an appearance of disorder very different 
 from the neatness that had prevailed in it upon my 
 first entrance. 
 
 " How blind we are to the simplest facts," I re- 
 marked. " Those brushed-away footprints, for in- 
 stance, leading to this bookcase. And I supposed 
 that the intruder had come this way for a volume ! " 
 
 Gaspard had provided a sledge and an axe, and 
 without further ado, we began relentlessly to break 
 down the beautiful bookshelves. It was a longer and 
 a warmer task than we had counted upon, but it 
 was done at last, and standing in the chips that be- 
 strewed the floor, we saw that the bolt which had 
 held the case to the wall was followed by another 
 which fastened from the side away from us the 
 door now clearly outlined in the plastered wall. 
 
 It was but a wooden door, only as high as the 
 bookcase had been, and a single blow from the 
 sledge sent a million shivers from it into the air.
 
 THE SECRET OF THE WING 239 
 
 Another well-aimed blow from the strong arm of 
 Milbrath unloosened the catch and like a flash, and 
 noiselessly, what was left of the little door rolled 
 back and disclosed the place beyond. 
 
 I seized the reading-lamp and doffed its shade. 
 Its glow, spreading ahead, lighted up the recess and 
 showed us a space scarcely larger than a closet 
 four feet wide and only ten feet long. 
 
 Across the east end, which was to the left of the 
 entrance, stood a roll-top desk similar to the one in 
 the library, its cover but halfway down. 
 
 An immense mirror, apparently sunk in the plas- 
 ter, stretched above a leather couch on the south 
 wall, and at the foot of the couch was a marble set 
 bowl with faucets for running water. 
 
 On the west wall was a door, no doubt the one 
 leading into the subterranean passage, and on the 
 other side of that, in the corner, stood a table bear- 
 ing a chafing dish. A cupboard above contained 
 cocoa, crackers and sugar, all fresh. A curious col- 
 lection for this silent room. 
 
 " Shall I break in this door also ? " asked Milbrath 
 indicating the one on the west wall. " You see it is 
 locked and from the outside apparently, as the key 
 is missing." 
 
 " Wait a bit," I answered. " Let us first see 
 whether the desk yields a clue. That, I suppose, is 
 the door that leads to the grotto."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 SOME STARTLING DOCUMENTS 
 
 rilHE desk was naturally the first thing to which 
 -- we turned. Above it hung a large picture 
 which had attracted my attention almost as quickly 
 as the expanse of mirror when I stepped into the 
 room. It was an oil painting as wide as the desk, 
 and fully five feet high in its massive gilt frame. 
 It showed a park, with the tesselated turrets of a 
 medieval-looking palace silhouetted against an even- 
 ing sky. The background was a ruddy stretch of 
 sunset horizon, and the rose-tinted twilight seemed 
 to filter through the gaunt leafless trees that rose 
 bleak and stark in the foreground. Around the 
 trunk of one of the larger trees a man peered a 
 man with a handsome, well-bred face, a high white 
 forehead and a Vandyke beard. Then one saw that 
 through the well-cared-for hair on his hatless head 
 two tiny horns rose up, and that the nails on the 
 fingers of the shapely hand that clung to the trunk 
 of the tree were curved and claw-like. The lips 
 of this man were parted. Was it in a smile ? 
 
 Remarkable as was the conception, the execution 
 was little short of marvelous; for looking from 
 one side of the picture one saw a smile, sardonic, 
 cruel, bitter, on those parted lips. From the other 
 side, the mouth showed a wistful pity as the man
 
 SOME STAKTLING DOCUMENTS 241 
 
 looked down upon a gruesome, grinning skeleton 
 before him. 
 
 Above the picture a point of light high up indi- 
 cated the ventilating shaft. Below was a picture 
 in a walnut frame with its face to the wall. I 
 turned it carefully, and as I did so Milbrath uttered 
 an exclamation of surprise. It was a water-color 
 likeness of the little boy who had died in youth, 
 and once it had hung above the rolltop desk in the 
 library. Had something been done in this room 
 that Peter Somhers could not do, or see done, with 
 the merry, candid eyes of his loved, lost son upon 
 him ? Surely it would be illogical to speculate that 
 anyone but Peter Somhers would turn that face to 
 the wall unless, indeed, this child were somehow 
 connected with the secret of Peter Somhers' associ- 
 ation with Philander Summerfield. 
 
 " Will you examine the desk ? " I asked. 
 
 Milbrath shook his head. 
 
 "If you are willing to do it I will not," he 
 answered. 
 
 I took my seat in the swivel chair before the desk, 
 the only chair in the room, and Milbrath seated 
 himself on the couch close by me. 
 
 At a touch the half-raised top of the desk rolled 
 swiftly into its place, and a blue blotter, literally 
 covered with prints, lay before us. At the back of 
 it stood an ink-well a deer's head with branching 
 horns on which lay three pens in holders. One after 
 another I picked them up and examined them. 
 Two of them were old and rusty and showed long 
 disuse. The third was comparatively new. 
 
 16
 
 The ink was a writing fluid, such as had been used 
 on two of the warnings that I had received; and 
 on one side of the desk were half a dozen sheets of 
 lined foolscap paper of the kind used by my anony- 
 mous warner. 
 
 The pigeon-holes were empty, save for a bottle of 
 mucilage, a ball of twine, and a paper of pins. 
 
 To the left of the blotter was a year reference 
 calendar for that year, and I observed with interest 
 that the date uppermost was September 1st the 
 previous day when Philander Summerfield had 
 persisted in inquiring for me at the doors of 
 Overlook. 
 
 Gaspard's assertion that the old man after each 
 inquiry had gone to the garden and presently had 
 disappeared, suddenly assumed a new significance. 
 He had waited until he believed Gaspard had ceased 
 to watch him and had slipped through the grotto 
 entrance into the subterranean passage and thence 
 to this room. 
 
 I did not pause to acquaint Milbrath with this 
 revelation, but, having seen all there was to be seen 
 on the desk, I opened one of the drawers. 
 
 It contained only a pack of playing cards in 
 the pasteboard case in which they were purchased. 
 They showed considerable use, some of them being 
 bent at the corners, and all of them were soiled. 
 
 "Were these Mr. Somhers' or are they the prop- 
 erty of Philander Summerfield ? " I asked Milbrath. 
 
 " Uncle enjoyed cards," he answered. " Solitaire 
 was a great game with him. Often he 'd play one 
 game or another far into the night."
 
 SOME STAKTLING DOCUMENTS 243 
 
 The second drawer held only a reading glass 
 with a lens remarkable for its strength. The 
 third drawer was as deep as the other two together, 
 and was divided lengthwise through the centre. 
 On one side was a pair of bright-hued " carpet slip- 
 pers " at sight of which Milbrath uttered the single 
 word: "Uncle's!" 
 
 I returned the slippers to their place in the 
 drawer, and picked up a pair of boots with square 
 toes! 
 
 " Ah ! " I cried. " We 've solved one mystery, 
 at least These are proof that my anonymous 
 friend had access to this room. Now, what is this ? " 
 My foot had come in contact with something under 
 the desk. Peering under I perceived the tin cover 
 of a typewriter. 
 
 " How kind of him to leave it ! Or did Mr. Som- 
 hers have a typewriter?" 
 
 " I never saw one here, but I 'm beginning to 
 think that fact counts for nothing. Jove! What 
 was uncle's idea in having all this, anyway ? " 
 
 "We'll go on and see if our search can tell us. 
 Some time I want to compare the print that ma- 
 chine makes with that of the notes I 've received." 
 
 I turned to the left side of the desk, where there 
 were four drawers. 
 
 The first was crammed to the very top with bun- 
 dles of letters. These were divided into two pack- 
 ages, and under the binding string of each was a 
 slip of paper. On one slip, in Mr. Somhers' upright 
 chirography, was inscribed : " From Adelaide ; " 
 on the other the words were : " To Adelaide."
 
 244 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " His wife," explained Milbrath. " He was 
 deeply attached to her and was never the same after 
 her death." 
 
 The second drawer contained photographs. We 
 looked them over hastily and Milbrath told me who 
 the originals were. 
 
 There were several of Mrs. Somhers a calm- 
 looking, sweet-faced woman and a full dozen of 
 the boy, in every pose and expression. There were 
 pictures of Francis, the brother, at various ages, of 
 the sister who had been Harrison Milbrath's mother, 
 and daguerreotypes of a generation back. Last of 
 all was a collection of photographs of Mr. Somhers 
 himself. 
 
 One taken in his boyhood showed him to have been 
 a chubby-faced, bright-eyed lad ; another, a stripling 
 in his early teens ; yet another, in his first mustache 
 presumably, from the shadow on the upper lip. 
 Another showed him with the laughing boy upon 
 his shoulder, and it was the picture of a proud and 
 happy father. 
 
 And so the pictures ran, showing a gradual ad- 
 vance in age. 
 
 " He would never sit for his picture after Aunt 
 Adelaide's death," Milbrath remarked. But in that 
 he was mistaken, for almost directly I came upon 
 an envelope containing two photographs. At first 
 glance they appeared identical prints from one 
 negative. But a closer inspection proved such a 
 conclusion wrong. Were they, indeed, of the same 
 man ? I seized the lens and examined each photo- 
 graph with minute care.
 
 SOME STARTLING DOCUMENTS 245 
 
 " Do you see any difference in them ? " I asked, 
 handing the pictures to Milbrath, who had been look- 
 ing over my shoulder silently as I studied. 
 
 " There is a difference. It is are they both 
 of Uncle Peter 3 " 
 
 " That is what I have been wondering. Study 
 them for a moment under the glass. The dress is 
 the same, you see. Observe the pose. Identical. 
 The mustache and the hair. Cut in the same way, 
 you will notice. The noses would be difficult to dis- 
 tinguish if covers were placed over the remainder 
 of the faces. The shape of the heads is similar, the 
 turn of the eyebrows also, but " 
 
 " The eyes." 
 
 " That 's it ! The expression of the eyes. Now, 
 which resembles Mr. Somhers ? " 
 
 " This." 
 
 " Did you ever see him like this other ? " 
 
 "Never. Possibly in his younger days uncle's 
 eyelids may have drooped in that gentle way, but 
 I doubt it. Let us look back to the photographs that 
 we have just seen." 
 
 We turned to the earlier pictures and studied 
 them carefully, but not in one did we find the mild- 
 tempered droop that characterized the eyelids of 
 the second photograph. 
 
 " There 's material here for an interesting study," 
 I observed as I replaced the two photographs in their 
 envelope and laid the lens upon them. " Apparently 
 we have stumbled upon some new evidence, and 
 when we are through we '11 try to classify it. Hello ! 
 What 's in this drawer ? Receipts, by Jove, and of
 
 246 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 more than momentary interest, too, as they are for 
 large amounts. No local tradesman's bills, these, 
 I '11 be bound. See, they are in careful chronological 
 order, and run back a quarter of a century, or 
 more." And wondering I turned to the year 18 . 
 There it was, as I hoped, a receipt for a tombstone 
 placed over the grave of Francis Somhers. Fol- 
 lowing it was a large collection of receipted bills for 
 debts contracted by Francis Somhers and paid by 
 Peter Somhers. At the bottom of the last of these 
 was scrawled in capitals one word : " FINIS." 
 
 " That looks as though Mr. Somhers had reached 
 the end of an unwelcome task," I commented. 
 " Still you never can tell. If Francis Somhers 
 were alive and his brother had reasons for wishing 
 him considered dead I suppose he would have taken 
 the same precautions. However, let us see what is 
 in here." 
 
 The fourth drawer contained an unlabeled letter 
 file, which looked comparatively new, and had but 
 few papers in it Evidently it had not been long 
 used. 
 
 The first letters of the alphabet carried nothing 
 between their leaves, " N " being the first letter un- 
 der which a filing was made. It proved to be a 
 notification from " A. Norcross, Sixth Avenue, New 
 York," to the effect that a man answering to re- 
 quirements left by Mr. Somhers had appeared and 
 would return on May 22d, 1892 (which was five 
 months before Mr. Somhers' decease), at which time 
 Mr. Somhers could see the man at Mr. Norcross' 
 place.
 
 SOME STAKTLING DOCUMENTS 247 
 
 At the moment this had no significance to us. Its 
 only importance to our eyes then was that it was one 
 of few letters apparently deemed by Mr. Somhers of 
 sufficient value or interest to preserve. 
 
 The letter " S," the only other letter under which 
 filing appeared, proved rich in material for there 
 were three letters from Philander Summerfield ! 
 
 We observed the dates and read them in the order 
 of their writing. I have them before me as I pen 
 these words, and will give them verbatim: 
 
 New York, 
 
 MR. PETER SOMHERS, Winton, 
 
 DEAR SIR: If you will meet me at a time and place 
 that you will please name, I shall be able to give you a 
 report of the first experiment, which, I think, will prove 
 entirely satisfactory to you. 
 
 Deferring to your request that I present my reports 
 verbally, rather than on paper, I may say only that as 
 T. B. S. appeared to be under complete delusion as to 
 my real identity the necessity of a speedy conference 
 with you will be apparent to you. 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " said Milbrath 
 sternly, taking the letter from my hand. " This 
 gives the impression that uncle was involved in 
 some shady transaction. I can hardly credit that. 
 What have the other letters to say ? " 
 
 New York, 
 
 MR. PETER SOMHERS, Winton, 
 
 DEAR SIR: I have considered your second proposal, 
 and after due consideration am prepared to accept the
 
 248 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 conditions and the remuneration you offered. Kindly 
 appoint a time and place where we may confer as to 
 the necessary details, 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 " The other," said Milbrath tersely, with knit 
 brows. 
 
 The third letter, like the two that preceded it, 
 was signed by Philander Summerfield, and began 
 in the same formal way. 
 
 " As per your instructions," it ran, " I will ar- 
 rive in Beverly on Thursday, October 12th " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " interrupted Milbrath, " the day 
 of the murder ! Summerfield is our man then ! " 
 
 " This seems proof. Let me read on : " 
 
 I will arrive as on the former occasion and will enter 
 by the private way. 
 
 " And now for this last paper," I said, opening 
 a folded sheet. "Whew! It looks like a con- 
 tract. And it is one, by Jingo! Now we shall 
 know, perhaps, what the old fellows were up to ! " 
 
 Milbrath leaned eagerly over my shoulder as I 
 read aloud: 
 
 Beginning on this day, Thursday, October 12th, 
 1892, I, Philander Summerfield, formerly, and to date 
 
 residing at Street, New York City, in 
 
 consideration of sums of money previously paid by 
 check and in consideration of the further payment at 
 the end of twelve months of twenty thousand dollars 
 by Peter Somhers, of Winton, State of , do agree
 
 " ' And now for this last paper,' I said, opening a folded sheet." 
 Ptige 248.
 
 SOME STARTLING DOCUMENTS 249 
 
 to impersonate said Peter Somhers to the best of my 
 knowledge and ability appearing to be him during 
 the next twelve months. 
 
 Signed PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 Pinned to this remarkable document was a sheet 
 of paper similar in size and written by the same 
 hand, unquestionably by Mr. Somhers: 
 
 I, Peter Somhers, of the town of Winton, State of 
 , do hereby agree to pay to Philander Summer- 
 field, formerly, and to date, residing at 
 
 Street, New York City, the sum of twenty thousand 
 dollars, over and above thirty thousand dollars already 
 paid by me in check, for a faithful impersonation of 
 me during one year, or for such a portion of one year 
 as I see fit to demand the masquerade. Said twenty 
 thousand dollars to be paid immediately upon the 
 release of Philander Summerfield from this contract. 
 Signed PETER SOMHERS.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIH 
 
 A THKILLING ESCAPE 
 
 is the last straw!" cried Milbrath, tak- 
 ing up the extraordinary documents and star- 
 ing at them in a dazed sort of way. " What, in 
 heaven's name, does it all mean ? Was Uncle Peter 
 crazy ? " 
 
 " It begins to look so," I assented dryly. " Or 
 deep-dyed. It means, also, that this second 
 photograph is without doubt of Philander Summer- 
 field," and I tapped the envelope containing the 
 pictures. "It shows us again what a change in a 
 man's face a beard will make." 
 
 " But his purpose ? " persisted Milbrath. " If 
 we find this Summerfield and bring him to justice, 
 are we to drag uncle's name into the mud ? " 
 
 " That is of course, a question for the future. 
 Perhaps we can avoid it. Jingo ! It 's past mid- 
 night. Well, I 'm for bed, with your permission. 
 Gaspard has arranged for you to take the room 
 next to me your old room, I believe. To-morrow 
 we'll get at this puzzle again. In the sunlight we 
 shall be able to do as much again, and to think 
 twice as clearly." 
 
 Milbrath rose reluctantly, and we ascended the 
 stairs in silence. Gaspard had long since preceded 
 us, and we could hear the mechanical regularity of 
 his sonorous comfort in a distant room.
 
 A THKILLING ESCAPE 251 
 
 At the door of his room Milbrath hesitated. 
 
 " We have found evidence, yet it is n't proof," 
 he said as if speaking to himself. " What need 
 had Uncle Peter for a masquerader? I dare say 
 we '11 find that we are off the track now ; that the 
 papers were a joke." He spoke eagerly and as if 
 anxious that I should agree with him, but without 
 conviction. 
 
 " Nothing is impossible, as you remarked a week 
 ago," I observed. " But we 've gained one point 
 that we must not overlook. Philander Summer- 
 field was with Mr. Somhers on that fateful twelfth 
 of October." 
 
 Milbrath nodded. 
 
 " And now it 's up to us to get at this Summerfield 
 and hear what he has to say for himself," he said. 
 
 Milbrath was already astir when I went down-stairs 
 in the morning, and I found him in the little room. 
 
 " Until I came here I could not believe that I 
 had not had the nightmare," he said, as I entered. 
 He held the contracts in his hand as he spoke. 
 
 "Better leave it all until after breakfast," I 
 advised. 
 
 Half an hour later we rose from the breakfast 
 table and with one accord moved toward the library. 
 As we entered the room a mufiled exclamation came 
 from the direction of the secret chamber, followed 
 immediately by the soft, quick closing of a door. 
 
 Like a flash came the thought that we had sur- 
 prised Philander Summerfield, and that he had fled 
 through the underground passage. I glanced at 
 Milbrath and saw that he was of the same opinion.
 
 252 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Run to the grotto," I cried, " and head him off. 
 I will follow him somehow and meet you ! " 
 
 In a trice Milbrath had acted upon my suggestion, 
 and calling at the top of my voice for Gaspard, I 
 seized a candle from one of the candelabra upon 
 the bookcases and had it lighted just as Gaspard 
 came running in, his eyes starting from his head. 
 
 "You call, m'sieu?" 
 
 " Yes ; I want your help instantly." 
 
 I fully expected to find the door which led from 
 the little room locked, and it was, indeed, fastened 
 against us. 
 
 Gaspard gazed about him in mute surprise, for 
 I did not give him an opportunity to express him- 
 self. 
 
 " Our shoulders to this door, Gaspard. Heavens ! 
 Why did we take away the sledge and the axe ? The 
 man we want is .behind it. Now! One, two, 
 three " 
 
 Bang! 
 
 Gaspard's lithe and muscular body with my 
 heavier one crashed against the paneling. There 
 was a sound of deep cracking, but the wood did 
 not splinter. These were good doors, surely, that 
 Peter Somhers had selected to guard his hidden 
 chamber ! 
 
 Again with one impulse we threw ourselves upon 
 the casement. That time there was a tremendous 
 crash of splintering wood and I was conscious of 
 rolling over and over, bump after bump, down some 
 stairs. Later I found that it was a very short and 
 shallow flight, but at the moment the length seemed
 
 A THKILLING ESCAPE 253 
 
 interminable. Gaspard followed the same course, 
 and landed on top of me with a volley of French 
 oaths. 
 
 We were upon our feet immediately, a trifle 
 stunned, perhaps, but with enough reason left to 
 act quickly, and in a trice Gaspard relighted the 
 sputtering candle and put it in my hand. 
 
 " Come," I said under my breath. " Follow me 
 and have your eyes open." 
 
 Ahead I could see only darkness, at the sides but 
 the rough stones and crumbling mortar of the pas- 
 sage. So narrow was it that we walked in single 
 file. An odor of earth-mould filled our nostrils, and 
 I found myself fancying what a heavy rain might 
 do for this subterranean corridor. 
 
 After a few yards an abrupt bend brought us to 
 a glimpse of day not more than twenty feet ahead. 
 
 I ran forward swiftly. But Gaspard and I were 
 alone in the tunnel, and at its end, which was, in- 
 deed, the grotto entrance wide open now, stood Mil- 
 brath alone. 
 
 " The old fellow must be the very devil," Mil- 
 brath cried. " I came from you at top speed, but 
 when I reached here this entrance was as you see it, 
 and no mark or sound indicated the course he had 
 taken." 
 
 In my disappointment I felt for the first time 
 the bruises I had suffered in my flight down the 
 steps and I looked down, ruefully enough, I sup- 
 pose, at my torn and dusty clothes. And, notwith- 
 standing the tensity of his feelings at the moment, 
 Milbrath laughed.
 
 254 THE SNAKE OF CIKCTJMSTA^CE 
 
 " It appears that you have suffered something 
 besides defeat," he said, " I hope you are not 
 injured ? " 
 
 " This is nothing but losing him ! How in 
 the name of Jupiter could he get away ? Has he 
 wings?" >-.;, 
 
 We examined the turf and the gravel about the 
 grotto, but there was no trace there of the fugitive. 
 
 " We know that he is somewhere in the vicinity," 
 I said. " Here, Gaspard ! Get the bell you have 
 used to call me when I 'm not in sight. Go yonder 
 to the highest point of land on the place, and if you 
 see a man not Mr. Milbrath or me ring the bell. 
 Do you comprehend?" 
 
 " Oui, m'sieu." 
 
 "Then be quick!" 
 
 So literally did Gaspard interpret my instruc- 
 tions that he was on sentinel duty by the time Mil- 
 brath and I had resolved on our simple plan for 
 action. 
 
 Milbrath went in one direction, looking for the 
 man or for some sign that he had passed that way, 
 while I moved toward another point. Between us 
 we scoured the grounds and met again at the grotto 
 door without news. 
 
 " There 's a train for Boston at ten-two. Shall 
 I go over to Beverly and be on the lookout for the 
 old fellow to take it ? " Milbrath asked. 
 
 " That is a good idea. And wire to the Pingree 
 Agency to have every train that passes through here 
 watched until further notice at the Park Square 
 Station. That ought to get him."
 
 A THKILLING ESCAPE 255 
 
 " If he is Summerfield, and from New 
 York ?" 
 
 " The south bound trains must be watched, that 
 is true. I'll take temporary board at the Winton 
 station, and we can keep each other informed by 
 wire. I '11 order the horses at once." 
 
 Milbrath looked amused. 
 
 " Would n't you feel more comfortable in a dif- 
 ferent suit ? " he inquired, eying my split trouser 
 legs and dust-grimed coat. " Let me give directions 
 this time." 
 
 In the excitement of the moment I had forgotten 
 my appearance and my aching joints. 
 
 " Yes," I said. " Order whichever horse you 
 prefer for yourself and I '11 take the other one. 
 Now, watch me disappear ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 SUMMERFIELD'S PAST 
 
 FROM the Beverly station Milbrath sent me this 
 succinct message : 
 
 Eleven A. M. Nothing doing. 
 
 Later he telegraphed that he had decided to go on 
 to Boston to see how things were progressing at that 
 end of the line. 
 
 Eor my part I scanned closely each of the few 
 individuals who boarded the trains that left Winton 
 during the twenty-four hours that followed, and I 
 felt confident that Mr. Summerfield was not of them. 
 As Milbrath communicated, late on the second day, 
 that the old fellow had not -yet arrived in Boston, 
 the inference was that he was still in the vicinity of 
 Overlook. 
 
 Hutton grew curious because of my frequent 
 visits to his station, and I confided to him that I 
 was on the lookout for the peculiar old man who 
 had excited his interest. I dare say he gathered a 
 bit more by his shrewd cross-examining to this ad- 
 mission, but he was far from suspecting the whole 
 truth, and I gained his support, for he promised to 
 inform me immediately whenever Mr. Summerfield 
 appeared at the Winton station again. 
 
 This, however, was not until the afternoon fol- 
 lowing Milbrath's departure. By that time I had
 
 SUMMERFIELD'S PAST 257 
 
 come to feel that important as it might be to get 
 Mr. Summerfield, his capture just then was scarcely 
 more important than information about him and his 
 past with which to confront and, if need be, force 
 him to a confession of the truth when we laid hands 
 on him. 
 
 I had carefully examined the walls of the under- 
 ground passage with a view to finding a way by 
 which Summerfield had eluded us with such ap- 
 parent ease, but they were of stone and earth and 
 mortar, without opening of any kind save at the 
 ends, and I was forced to believe that he had es- 
 caped solely through the aid of his swift feet a 
 possibility seemingly incredible in one of his age. 
 
 The contracts, the telltale letters, and the two 
 photographs, so like and yet so unlike, I had taken 
 the precaution to fasten securely in one of my 
 pockets before I left Overlook, and when I had con- 
 cluded my arrangements with Hutton I drove 
 homeward with a new plan for action. 
 
 " Gaspard," I announced, " I am going to New 
 York on the evening train. Be prepared to go with 
 me." 
 
 " Oui, m'sieu." Gaspard's face grew long, never- 
 theless. He hesitated, and then asked: 
 
 " Iss it for all zee time, m'sieu ? " 
 
 I restrained a smile. The anxiety expressed by 
 Gaspard's plastic features could denote but one 
 thing: distress at leaving Delia, the fresh-cheeked 
 young Receiver of the Hairpin, before whom Gas- 
 pard was wearing off the skin on his middle-aged 
 knees. 
 
 17
 
 258 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Probably not," I answered, " I may be gone 
 only a few Hays." 
 
 " Ah ! m'sieu." Gaspard's face glowed again. 
 " Possibly, zen, m'sieu vould not care zat I remain 
 ici?" 
 
 " Gaspard," I said, with grave pretense at stern- 
 ness. " It is of Delia that you think, not of me." 
 
 " Non ! non ! m'sieu. Non ! Eet is of m'sieu 
 alvays virst," protested Gaspard, an embodiment 
 of gesticulation. "Mais zee petite Delia. Ah! to 
 leave her now ! " 
 
 I considered. I did not need to have Gaspard 
 with me. So little need would I have of him, in- 
 deed, that I could but send him about his own busi- 
 ness as soon as we reached the city; but if I left 
 him alone at Overlook was it not possible that Sum- 
 merfield, still in the vicinity, might burn the house 
 in the hope of destroying the papers which he must 
 assume were discovered^? And as night would be 
 the logical time for him to do the deed, might it 
 not be while the invincible and unawakable 
 Gaspard slept? 
 
 On the other hand, if I left Overlook deserted, 
 the place offered a safe refuge for Summerfield, 
 who, doubtless, would soon discover that it was 
 vacated. 
 
 " If I leave you, Gaspard," I said, " you must 
 go to the cottage to sleep. Are you willing to do 
 that?" 
 
 Gaspard's expression said plainly that he was not 
 willing, but he answered : 
 
 "If m'sieu desire mais "
 
 SUMMEKFIELD'S PAST 259 
 
 " Very well. I '11 speak to Mrs. Horsford about 
 preparing a bed for you. And you must keep your 
 word," I added sternly. " Your ' Beel-ze-bub ' is 
 around and he may burn the house while you sleep. 
 You know how you do sleep ! " 
 
 Gaspard shrugged his shoulders in a manner 
 which committed Beelzebub and all fear of him to 
 the eternal bow-wows, as he rode off with a telegram 
 to Milbrath asking him to join me that evening, if 
 possible, at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York. 
 
 Then I proceeded to the stables where Horsford 
 was tossing hay. Horsford had not forgotten his 
 gratitude to me. His wife, for nearly two weeks 
 free from the influence of her sister, had, to all ap- 
 pearances, settled down to a quiet contentment with 
 her Joe and her child, and Horsford's faith that the 
 condition would last was unbounded. His apprecia- 
 tion of the part I had played in his domestic affairs 
 was shown in a hundred small ways, and he had en- 
 deavored to learn something about La Cour for me. 
 It was concerning this matter that I went to the 
 stable. 
 
 " Any news ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not exactly, sir, but there 's something 'anging 
 in the hair that may mean aught to you. I was at 
 Jim's 'ouse this noon^ sir, to get the money 'e should 
 'ave paid me before now hon the gray mare. You 
 know the one, sir. 'E took 'er hof me a month back 
 and said 'e would pay hat once which 'e 'as never 
 done. I must 'ave the money to-morrow or the 
 roan colt, which I got in place hof Grayskin, will go 
 back to Jenkins. Hand so I told Jim.
 
 260 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " ' Go t' ell ! ' them was 'is words, sir 
 ' You '11 'ave the money when I can get hit.' 
 
 " ' When '11 that be ? ' I arsks. 
 
 " ' Maybe to-morrow ; maybe sooner. I 'II 'ave 
 it, any'ow, hor somebody goes t' jail somebody 
 not far away from 'ere just now, neither,' an' Jim 
 looks hoff with a wink toward the front room where, 
 I took hit, there ware somebody to 'ear." 
 
 My impulse was to find a pretext to visit Arms 
 at once and investigate the grounds for Horsford's 
 suspicion, for if it were not La Cour who was to 
 furnish Jim with money or go to jail, who was it ? 
 I wanted to know. But a glance at my watch 
 showed me that I should have barely time to prepare 
 for my trip and get to the station, if I were to reach 
 town that night. So, with a commission to Hors- 
 ford to ascertain all that he could in my interest, I 
 hurried back to the house. 
 
 Because of a wrecked freight train near Hart- 
 ford I reached the Grand Central two hours behind 
 scheduled time, and Milbrath was installed in his 
 room at the hotel when I arrived there. His mobile 
 face showed added lines of anxiety, and from the 
 occasional quiver of his eyelids, it was obvious that 
 he was keyed to a high pitch. 
 
 " We 've got to settle this business somehow, 
 or you'll be on your back," I remarked after a 
 moment or two of commonplaces. 
 
 " Oh, I shall be all right in the morning," he 
 answered with a faint smile. " Now tell me what 
 headway you have made to-day." 
 
 " None, absolutely none," and I recounted my
 
 SUMMERFIELD'S PAST 261 
 
 movements of the past twenty-four hours. " And 
 you ? " I queried in conclusion. " Perhaps you 
 have more to relate ? " 
 
 Milbrath shook his head. 
 
 " I drove to the house in Concord Street where 
 Mr. Summerfield went the day I chased him. He 
 had roomed there, the landlady said, but he had 
 given up his room (telling her that he was leaving 
 town) last Thursday the very day, you see, that 
 I saw him." 
 
 " He has been in Winton so recently, do you 
 suppose he has a hiding-place there ? " 
 
 " It looks like that. Then arises the question of 
 where ? " 
 
 "God alone knows," I answered. But as the 
 words passed my lips an idea leaped into my brain 
 and kept me silent with rapid thought, staring be- 
 fore me until Milbrath's voice roused me. 
 
 " You look as if you were seeing a ghost," he 
 said with a short laugh, following the direction of 
 my gaze. 
 
 " Some ideas are ghosts, I believe," I returned, 
 answering his laugh. " What were we saying ? Ah 
 yes ! Did you communicate with the men who are 
 watching the doctor's house ? " 
 
 " No, for I do not believe that he has left Boston 
 permanently. The knowledge that we are on his 
 track may prove a little wearing on his nerves, in 
 which case he may have need to visit the doctor 
 again." 
 
 " If he has n't got wind of our visit there." 
 
 " True. At all events I said nothing to the de-
 
 262 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 tectives. Instead I ordered another to watch the 
 post office for him. I endeavored, through a ruse, 
 to learn whether Summerfield had ordered his mail 
 forwarded somewhere, but I got nothing there, of 
 course. I hope that we shall have better success to- 
 morrow." 
 
 And we did have. 
 
 The men's lodging house in Street where 
 
 Philander Summerfield had once roomed was easily 
 found. It was of the plainest and shabbiest type 
 of that order of house. Mr. Grayson, the manager, 
 had no difficulty in recalling Philander Summerfield, 
 and was ready enough to talk about him. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, " I remember old ' P. S.,' of 
 course I do. I had an experience with him I don't 
 have with every lodger. Fine man, too, was he." 
 
 " What became of him when he left your place ? " 
 I asked. , 
 
 " Why, I believe he went away to join a brother 
 who had money. He came here once the brother 
 as much like ' P. S.' as you could well fancy 
 brothers to be." 
 
 " You have no recollection, I suppose, where this 
 brother lived?" 
 
 " I never knew. I dare say I should never have 
 thought twice about him except that when 'P. S.' 
 first came here he tried to kill himself shut up 
 his room and turned on the gas you know the 
 way. As it happened I passed the door of his room 
 about that time and after knocking several times 
 and getting no answer why, I just broke in the 
 door. He was unconscious, but I contrived to bring
 
 SUMMERFIELD'S PAST 263 
 
 him to without calling in help or letting anybody 
 know what had been going on. I meant, neverthe- 
 less, to hand him over to the police. But when he 
 was himself again and knew what had happened 
 and what I meant to do he begged like a thief for 
 me to spare him that disgrace. He told me then 
 that he was without a living relative, had come 
 to the end of his resources, could not find work, and 
 was too proud to beg, yet he could n't endure the 
 publicity even in this city where nobody knew 
 him of being brought before a magistrate as a 
 pauper or for attempted self-destruction. He 
 begged me to let him die and sink into a nameless 
 grave. 
 
 " I told him, even if he was old enough, most, to 
 be my father, that if he 'd perk up and act like a 
 man, I 'd give him his food and a bed for what he 
 could do to help me around here. Maybe then, after 
 a while, he 'd find a better job. 
 
 " That seemed to cheer him a bit, and he plodded 
 around faithfully enough for almost two months. 
 Then he begun to act queer wonderfully sort of 
 happy. Once he went out and was gone most of the 
 day. When he come back he had on a new suit of 
 clothes, hat, vest, everything new, even to his collar 
 and cravat and of fine material, too. His eyes were 
 shining and he looked like a different man. 
 
 " ' I 've come across a streak of good luck, Gray- 
 son,' says he in kind of a jolly .way for him. 
 ' Here 's five dollars now on account, and pretty 
 soon maybe I '11 be able to pay you back, in a pecuni- 
 ary way, at least, for all you 've done for me.'
 
 264 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Naturally I was curious and wanted to hear 
 more, but no more would he tell. After that he 
 would dress up in his new suit and go out quite 
 often. Perhaps he 'd be gone only for a few hours, 
 perhaps it would be for a day or a day and a night. 
 But he'd always come back with money in his 
 trousers pocket which he 'd chink gleefully and 
 sometimes show me happy as a boy with a new 
 jackknife. 
 
 " Then one evening in walked a man and asked 
 for Mr. Philander Summerfield, and for a minute 
 I thought it was old 'P. S.' himself playing a joke 
 on me. 
 
 " ' G' wan ! ' says I. l You can't fool me, Sum- 
 merfield. I know you.' 
 
 " The man got red in the face even his eyes 
 got red and he stamped his foot and brought his 
 fist down on my desk in a way that made me look to 
 see if the inkwell had n't gone over. Then, sud- 
 denly, he laughed. 
 
 " ' You 're not to blame, I suppose, for thinking 
 me Mr. Summerfield if we look so much alike, but 
 you never saw me before. I 'm his brother.' 
 
 " Grol ! You could have knocked me into a cocked 
 hat with a feather. But I apologized as best I 
 could and went to call 'P. S.' 
 
 "He came with me in those fine clothes of his, 
 and the two old fellows, as alike as peas in a pod, 
 went off in a corner of that room yonder and talked 
 for a while in low tones. Then they went out 
 together. 
 
 " Next day ' P. S.' come to me.
 
 SUMMEKFIELD'S PAST 265 
 
 " ' Grayson,' says he, ' I 'm going to leave you. 
 I Ve got a good position at last that is going to 
 make me a rich man, and I will not forget you ; on 
 that you may depend. You have done more for me 
 than I can tell you.' 
 
 " l Your brother has helped you ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' My brother ? ' he said, kind of surprised. 
 
 " l Why, yes ; the man who came for you last 
 night He said he was your brother.' 
 
 " ' Oh, did he tell you that ? ' said Summerfield. 
 ' Well, yes, I 'm going with him.' 
 
 " He went away then, never saying a word about 
 money, but in a day or two a check for a hundred 
 dollars come. That was more than he had any need 
 to send me, but you can think what my surprise 
 was when pretty soon along come a check for an- 
 other hundred, then another and another, which 
 made four hundred all together, with never an ad- 
 dress so that I could send him a word of thanks. 
 That ended it" 
 
 " Have you never seen him since then ? " 
 
 " Never to this day. I 've often wondered what 
 had become of the old fellow, and why he wanted 
 to keep back his relationship to that other man. 
 You know he told me once that he hadn't any re- 
 lations. Had some trouble with them, I suppose." 
 
 " Did he never mention where his home had once 
 been?" 
 
 " I don't know as he ever did " thoughtfully 
 " but once, when we were talking together we 
 used to be sort of crony-like together sometimes 
 he told me about teaching in a college in Virginia,
 
 266 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 not such a great time before, I judged. That was 
 as near as I ever got to knowing where he lived, I 
 guess." 
 
 " How old a man was Mr. Summerfield then ? " 
 
 " When he lived with me ? Why, he said once 
 he was something past fifty. Seemed to me he 
 looked older, though I 'm no judge of ages. Say, 
 what are all these questions for, anyhow ? Know 
 old 'P. S.' do you?" 
 
 " We want to find him," I answered evasively. 
 " Now here are two photographs. I wonder whether 
 you will recognize them ? " 
 
 I took from its envelope the picture Milbrath be- 
 lieved to be of his uncle. 
 
 " That 's him ! " Grayson exclaimed the instant 
 he saw it " A fine picture of him, too, only 
 well, there 's something a little wrong when you 
 come to look." 
 
 " This, then ? " I said bringing forth the second 
 photograph. 
 
 " That 's him again. Looks more like him, too." 
 
 " Don't you think one of these pictures is of his 
 brother ? " 
 
 " Gol ! I never thought of that," and Grayson 
 took both photographs and scrutinized them care- 
 fully. 
 
 "Well, this is the brother, then," he said in- 
 dicating the picture of Mr. Somhers. 
 
 "Why do you think so?" 
 
 " Can't tell you. I 'm no artist. I know this is 
 ' P. S.' though." 
 
 " One more question, Mr. Grayson, and then I
 
 SUMMEKFIELD'S PAST 267 
 
 will detain you no longer. How long ago was it 
 that Mr. Summerfield was here ? " 
 
 " Just about the time you said a little more 
 than three years ago he came. It was the last of 
 September, I know, when he went away." 
 
 We thanked Mr. Grayson and left with him a box 
 of cigars that we had brought in case we found that 
 he would use them, and got out of the house. 
 
 " I never expected such success as we 've had 
 to-day," I exclaimed when we were again upon the 
 street. " Our next move must be to send an adver- 
 tisement to the Richmond and Charlotteville, Vir- 
 ginia, papers." 
 
 And this is the message that I sent: 
 
 Wanted Immediately: Information concerning Phi- 
 lander Summerfield at the time of his residence in Vir- 
 ginia. $100 reward. E. B., Parker House, Boston, 
 Mass.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 HOESFOKD IN DURANCE 
 
 A S we left the telegraph office at Fifth Avenue 
 -^- and 23rd Street, I felt a touch upon my arm 
 and turned about to find at my side a small man who 
 looked up into my face with furtive eyes and a sly 
 smile. 
 
 " Barney Rafferts, by all that 's unholy ! " I ex- 
 claimed. " Been shadowing us, Barney ? " 
 
 " Not this time. It 's a gory-hued divorce I 'm 
 on to-day," he laughed. 
 
 " ' Not this time ? ' Ah ! By the way, Barney, 
 you 're just the man I 've been wanting to see. 
 What 's the name of the old fellow who put you on 
 my track six weeks or "so ago ? " 
 
 Barney shifted his eyes and showed his teeth with 
 pleasant intention. 
 
 " Say, I think that 's worth more 'n an answer, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " Maybe it is. How would this please you ? " and 
 I produced a ten-dollar bill. 
 
 Barney's eyes flashed greedily, but they had seen 
 a companion to that bank note in my pocket, and 
 he answered : 
 
 " That might quiet my sensitive conscience long 
 enough for me to admit there was a man who had 
 me look you up, but as to his name. Well, you see 
 my mem'ry ain't first rate always."
 
 HOKSFORD IN DURANCE 269 
 
 " Perhaps this other bill will refresh your 
 memory, you fox ! " 
 
 " Just 's like 's not it will. Let 's see how they 
 feel. Genuine, ain't they ? See 'em disappear into 
 my pocket so? There! The old fellow's name, 
 did you say ? To tell the truth he did n't confide in 
 me that far, but he was old and had gray hair 
 a beard ditto, and " 
 
 " If you don't know his name, how dare you take 
 my money ? " I roared in his ear. 
 
 " Now don't excite yourself," said Barney im- 
 perturbably. " I '11 come to an interesting part 
 presently. He did n't tell me his name, but I looked 
 on the register at the Plaza when I went up to report, 
 and he was down as Summerfield, of Boston." 
 
 " And you followed me home that night ! Well, 
 all is fair in war, I suppose. How did you manage 
 to get the note in the house the next day ? " 
 
 " Easy ! Just hid behind a vestibule door till 
 somebody went in who did n't latch the door behind 
 him. Great trick, that Helloa! What's going 
 on over there ? " 
 
 We had reached our hotel by this time, and Bar- 
 ney's eyes indicated a gathering crowd across the 
 square in the neighborhood of Irving Place. 
 
 " I 'm off," he cried with a wave of his hand, and 
 left us. 
 
 As we edged our way through the jostling 
 crowd, I asked Milbrath what he thought about 
 returning to Winton at once. 
 
 " Why not to Boston ? I should suppose our 
 chances were there."
 
 270 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Well, I Ve got it into my head that Arms' ' La 
 Cour ' may be Summerfield. The fancy came last 
 night when you asked me if I were seeing a ghost." 
 
 Milbrath's eyes widened. 
 
 " Jerusalem ! That may be so. But you Ve 
 seen that man, have n't you ? " 
 
 " Never, unless he is the chap that Maggie carried 
 the big hat to, you know." 
 
 " Did he resemble Summerfield ? In size and 
 figure, I mean." 
 
 " Why, I don't know. Perhaps so. I fancied 
 he was younger, but very likely it was only fancy. 
 But if La Cour is Summerfield, you can bank on it 
 that Arms knows that he killed Mr. Somhers, and 
 perhaps knows why." 
 
 " We '11 admit the theory for sake of discussion," 
 said Milbrath. " Do you think that Arms knew it 
 at the time of my trials ? " 
 
 " It 's quite possible, and kept the truth to him- 
 self for a money consideration, to revenge himself 
 on you, or for both reasons. Indeed, I 'm not con- 
 fident that he was not an accomplice in the crime, 
 instead of merely an accessory after it. It 's of no 
 use for you to shake your head ; he 's involved 
 somehow." 
 
 " Then we '11 prove it. Have you a theory to 
 explain Summerfield's visits to Winton ? " 
 
 " No ; there I 'm stumped unless they are to 
 try to intimidate me with those foolish notes. And 
 if he did n't want me to know the truth, why on 
 earth did he offer me such inducements to discover 
 it? The old gentleman must be just plain daffy.
 
 HOESFOKD IN DUKANCE 271 
 
 By the way, have I told you that Arms has made a 
 trail through the woods between Overlook and his 
 cottage and that it joins yours on the other side ? " 
 
 " No ! " cried Milbrath with interest. " That is 
 probably the way, then, that Summerfield went the 
 other day ! How did you learn about it ? " 
 
 " From Horsford. By George ! I believe that 
 is the way Summerfield went. Idiot that I was 
 not to think of it at the time ! " 
 
 Milbrath pondered. 
 
 " If Summerfield resembles uncle," he said pres- 
 ently, " the fact may account for his apparent de- 
 sire for seclusion when he is in Winton. Surely 
 he could find excuses to explain his visits to you. 
 By Jove ! If he 's been at Overlook this year with- 
 out his beard, and looks like his picture, does n't 
 that explain the ghost story the boys told ? " 
 
 " Probably it does. Let 's get back to Winton at 
 once and call upon Arms. If Summerfield is not 
 there we can have the cottage watched until he 
 comes again." 
 
 We returned to the hotel for our bags, and found 
 that a telegram awaited me there. I tore it open 
 and read : 
 
 Come at once. Very important. 
 
 GASPARD. 
 
 " Now what is the meaning of that ? " I exclaimed, 
 handing the message to Milbrath. " It is an un- 
 equivocal command, and Gaspard is not a man to 
 overstep his boundaries or to attach undue impor- 
 tance to a situation."
 
 272 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Then I think we should make the next train." 
 
 We did " make it," but it cost us a hot race to 
 the station, and our lunch. 
 
 It was five o'clock in the afternoon when we 
 reached Beverly. The thought of how we should 
 get to Overlook did not occur to us until it was too 
 late to wire Gaspard to meet us. After a tedious 
 wait, therefore, while the one station carriage of 
 Beverly carried an old lady up into a far distant 
 portion of the town somewhere and returned for us, 
 we made a start in a hired conveyance. 
 
 The driver was old, as deaf as an adder, and, ap- 
 parently, as uncommunicative, and if we had hoped 
 to engage him in gossip we soon found that we 
 were to be disappointed. 
 
 As we passed the Arms cottage he did turn half 
 around toward us as if to speak and one arm went 
 out toward the house, but he looked back directly 
 to his horses without having uttered a word. 
 
 We scrutinized the cottage curiously, wondering 
 whether it had revealed a secret or gained one dur- 
 ing our absence, but it looked from the outside 
 much as I had always seen it white and green 
 and modest, its shades partly lowered like the 
 eyelids of a fair coquette. 
 
 Gaspard was holding wide the screen door before 
 our carriage stopped in front of the portico at Over- 
 look. His face lacked the debonair smile that 
 usually adorned it, and I knew at once that what- 
 ever his reason in sending for me it was not only 
 urgent but serious. 
 
 " M'sieu has heard ? " he asked, and when I told
 
 HORSFORD IN DURANCE 273 
 
 him that I had heard nothing he cast a glance of 
 such mingled incredulity, amazement and contempt 
 at our driver as condemned the man at once to a 
 perdition of unending stupidity. 
 
 " Of M'sieu Arms it iss. He iss of zee dead to- 
 day of zee murdered, m'sieu." 
 
 " Jim Arms murdered ! " cried Milbrath. " When 
 did it happen, man ? " 
 
 " Zis mornin', m'sieu. And M'sieu Horsf ord, he 
 iss in zee preeson." 
 
 " Horsford ! " It was my turn to exclaim. " Do 
 they say that Horsford did it ? " 
 
 " Oui, m'sieu. He vas zee last at zee maison of 
 M'sieu Arms. Now he vill not'ing zay but, ( I must 
 speak vid Meester Blees.' ' 
 
 I thought of the money that Arms had owed 
 Horsford and wondered whether it could be that a 
 row had arisen over the matter during which Arms 
 had been killed. That Horsford had killed his 
 cousin intentionally, I did not for a moment believe. 
 
 I looked at Milbrath. 
 
 " We '11 go over to him at once ! " I said tenta- 
 tively. " He is in the Beverly jail, I suppose, 
 Gaspard ? " 
 
 " Oui, m'sieu. Mais pardon, zee preeson is not 
 longer open to vee-se-tors from seex o'clock, and it 
 is now past seex, zirty minutes." 
 
 " I suppose we might bring influence to bear from 
 some quarter and see him to-night," I remarked to 
 Milbrath. " But it is late, and perhaps it would 
 be as well first to hear what others have to say." 
 
 In this Milbrath agreed, and we encouraged Gas- 
 18
 
 274 THE SNAKE OF CIKCUMSTANCE 
 
 pard to tell us all that he knew about the tragedy. 
 He told it with many words and gesticulations, fre- 
 quent appeals to us for assistance with the English 
 language, and with great dramatic fervor. But we 
 knew little more when all was told (and gesticulated) 
 than his first words had conveyed that Arms was 
 dead from a bullet that had entered his chest and 
 touched his heart; that Horsford was alone with 
 him at the time, and had been arrested, although he 
 stoutly maintained his innocence of the crime and 
 did not know who did it; and that he asked con- 
 tinually for me. 
 
 After a hasty supper Milbrath and I drove over 
 to the Arms cottage. Milbrath declined to go inside. 
 
 " If I can aid you, of course you may call upon 
 me. Otherwise I '11 remain in the background. 
 I fancy that my presence would not greatly comfort 
 either of the women," he added with a touch of 
 pathos. 
 
 I found Mrs. Arms in loud lamentation, but 
 Maggie was silent and tearless, and her large black 
 eyes never left the form of her mother, who rocked 
 back and forth with her checked apron over her face, 
 and wailed unceasingly for her "Jamie, her poor, 
 murdered Jamie ! " 
 
 " Tell 'im 'ow it wur, Maggie," she commanded 
 at length, uncovering her face for a moment, " tell 
 >im." 
 
 Maggie hesitated. The color mounted slowly to 
 her forehead and her eyes widened with a new ex- 
 pression of alarm. Then she began, dutifully, to 
 speak, in a soft, monotonous voice:
 
 HORSFORD IN DURANCE 275 
 
 " It was after the work was done up in the morn- 
 ing, and ma went down to the garden with me to 
 'elp pick blackberries for jam. We saw Joeie 
 come in and then, in a little while, 'e was on 
 the porch yonder shouting for us to come up. But 
 'e did n't do it, sir," she interrupted herself to ex- 
 claim with increased alarm, " and you must n't 
 believe 'e did." 
 
 " I don't believe he did," I answered, and my 
 words appeared to have a wonderfully quieting effect 
 on the girl. For the first time I saw her eyes rest 
 upon me without apprehension. 
 
 " But Jamie was shot," she went on in a doubt- 
 ful voice as if, having convinced me, she could yield 
 to the doubt that harassed her, " shot and lyin' dead 
 on the floor ! " 
 
 She hid her face in her hands, and her mother, 
 who had ceased to wail while the girl spoke, now 
 broke forth again. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Arms," I began resolutely as she 
 paused to take breath. " I am here as a friend, and 
 I mean to help you if I can. But I can do nothing 
 unless you will dry your eyes and let me talk with 
 you for a few minutes without interruption." 
 
 The checked apron came down after it had made 
 a few effectual dabs at the old woman's face. 
 
 " Aye, sir," Mrs. Arms said, " I '11 do as best I 
 can." " 
 
 " Please show me, then, just where Jim's body 
 lay when you first saw him after the shooting." 
 
 " Aye, sir." 
 
 She led me into the kitchen, a large, uncarpeted
 
 276 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 room, and pointed to a red spot on the white scoured 
 floor. 
 
 " That, sir, is where 'e lay 'is 'ead this way 
 above the spot, the feet 'ere." 
 
 I studied the position of the spot in relation to 
 the rest of the room. It was within two feet of a 
 side wall at a diverging line from which the 
 body must have lain to bring the feet so well toward 
 the center of the room. 
 
 " Was the room upset as if there had been a 
 struggle ? " I asked. 
 
 " Hit was not, sir." 
 
 " There was one chair over, ma. This one, don't 
 you remember ? " and Maggie who had followed us 
 into the kitchen touched a wooden-seated chair 
 against the wall about three feet from the crimson 
 spot 
 
 " Is the chair now where it set when you went 
 out to the garden yesterday ? " 
 
 " Aye, sir. 'T is always there except at meals." 
 
 " Which way did the chair lie when you found it 
 on which side ? " 
 
 Mrs. Arms looked puzzled, but Maggie did not 
 hesitate. 
 
 " This way, sir, just so," and she tipped the chair 
 over. The evidence, if the girl were right, was that 
 the chair had fallen in the direction of the body. 
 
 " Was there no one here with Jim when you went 
 to the garden ? " 
 
 " No one, sir." 
 
 " How long was it after you went to the garden 
 that you saw Horsford come in ? "
 
 HORSFOKD IN DURANCE 27T 
 
 " An 'alf hour, perhaps, sir," answered Maggie. 
 
 " Did either of you see the revolver that was 
 fired?" 
 
 " Aye, sir. The coroner 'as it now." 
 
 " Did you recognize it ? " 
 
 Both women shook their heads. 
 
 " Is there anything further that you can tell me ? " 
 
 There seemed to be nothing, so I asked to see the 
 clothing that Arms had worn. 
 
 The steps that I had taken, the questions I had 
 asked up to that point were stereotyped and formal 
 and had left me still sailing around without a rud- 
 der in this new sea of mystery. But as I put my 
 hands upon the garments so recently worn by the 
 late master (or tyrant) of the house in which I 
 stood, I felt with a thrill that was wholly without 
 logical excuse, that I had got hold of something that 
 would yield a clue. 
 
 " Was he wearing a coat ? " I inquired in some 
 surprise, as I unfolded the brown tweed garment 
 that lay on top. 
 
 " 'E did 'ave it on when we found him," answered 
 Maggie in a puzzled tone, " but not when we went 
 out. The burn of the bullet is on it, sir." 
 
 I examined the coat carefully. The hole made 
 by the bullet was an inch below the lapel on the left 
 side ; and it was evident that the assassin had stood 
 to the left of his victim and close to him, for the 
 tweed on that side of the hole was singed for a full 
 quarter of an inch farther in that direction than 
 around it. A curious feature was that the bullet 
 must have passed upward.
 
 278 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 The linings of most of the pockets, like the other 
 linings of the garment, showed wear, and that on 
 the left side was torn. Part of the tear appeared 
 to be recent 
 
 I puzzled over this evidence for several minutes, 
 but gathered little or nothing from it. I passed on 
 to the other garments, therefore, and examined 
 each carefully, without, however, getting any new 
 light. 
 
 Then I returned to the coat I examined again 
 the torn pocket lining and in doing so I made a 
 further discovery. The lining of the flap of that 
 pocket was badly singed. For the first time, then, 
 I recalled that James Arms was left-handed! 
 
 That recollection opened up a vista of possibili- 
 ties, and ten minutes later when I handed the gar- 
 ments back to Mrs. Arms I am sure that my eyes 
 shone and my voice betrayed my excitement, for 
 she regarded me with curiosity, and then covered 
 her face with her apron and again burst into 
 lamentations. 
 
 But Maggie spoke. 
 
 " You 're going to get Joeie free ! " she said, and 
 her words trembled with excitement. 
 
 " I think so. Are you certain you can tell me 
 nothing more ? " 
 
 Maggie's eyelids fell and again the blood flooded 
 her face. 
 
 " There is one thing more, sir," she said, " though 
 I do not know its meaning. We tried to come in 
 through the back door ma and I from the gar- 
 den. It was open when Joeie first called, but as
 
 HORSFORD IN DURANCE 279 
 
 we came near it closed and when we got to it it was 
 locked." 
 
 " Horsford was still on the porch ? " 
 
 " He must have been, for he was there when we 
 got around to that side." 
 
 I looked at the girl until my gaze compelled hers. 
 
 " Is that all that you can tell me ? All? "I asked. 
 
 " It is all that I know, sir," she answered, and 
 turned to her mother with an expression of appeal. 
 
 I knew that there was still something for me to 
 learn from her hut, if necessary, I could wait 
 
 " How long is it since Mr. La Cour was here ? " I 
 asked abruptly turning to Mrs. Arms. 
 
 Maggie jumped to her feet with a startled cry, her 
 eyes wide again with fear. Her mother raised a 
 finger to her lips as if to hush me. 
 
 " 'T is long," she said briefly, and added hastily: 
 " No, no, not long. But will you not see the boy 
 before you go, sir ? " 
 
 I followed the mother into the darkened parlor.
 
 CHAPTEK XXXI 
 
 BY THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION 
 
 ""VTOW," I remarked to Milbrath a half hour 
 -L-* later after relating to him the experiences 
 just recorded, " what do you make of the case ? " 
 
 We had just left our rooms, after brushing up a 
 bit, for a short call at Red Gables. 
 
 Milbrath hesitated. 
 
 " I 've no capacity for deduction," he said, " and 
 at first I made nothing of it, until, indeed, you 
 spoke of the locked door. From that it seems evi- 
 dent that a third person is involved La Cour, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " So far, so good. But do the upset chair, the 
 position of the body, the character of the burns on 
 the coat, the fact, indeed, that Arms was wearing 
 a coat, tell no story to you ? " 
 
 " No more than the very evident fact that Arms 
 was shot at close range. The chair may have been 
 overturned before or after the shot was fired, so far 
 as I can see, or he may have upset it in falling. I 
 don't know what you mean by the position of the 
 body." 
 
 " Is n't the fact that the lining of the left-hand 
 pocket was torn and singed significant to you?" I 
 asked eagerly.
 
 BY THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION 281 
 
 Milbrath pondered for a moment, then shook his 
 head. 
 
 " It suggests nothing new to me no theory as to 
 the crime. As Arms was left-handed it is natural 
 that the pocket on the left side should show more 
 wear than the other. It was probably singed before 
 to-day." 
 
 " Well, to me those points mean everything, for 
 they make it evident that Jim Arms killed himself." 
 
 " What ! " cried Milbrath. " Tell me how you 
 get at that," he added with interest. 
 
 " I think the first suggestion came when I under- 
 stood how Arms had fallen that is, how he lay 
 when he was found, though I was not conscious of 
 it at the moment. As you remarked, the way the 
 material was burned about the bullet hole showed 
 that the firing was done at short range. Everything 
 had been taken from the pockets of all the garments 
 the pockets had been dusted, even ; but when I 
 came to the torn lining in the coat pocket I ' felt 
 warm,' as children say. A careful examination 
 showed me that while the lining had undoubtedly 
 first given way some time ago, its break had been 
 added to quite recently ; for fully an inch and a half 
 of the stuff had not yet begun to fray. Then I 
 found the singed lining of the flap of the pocket and 
 at the same instant, I believe, recalled that Arms 
 was left-handed. Then as, involuntarily, I raised 
 the spot to see what my sense of smell would tell 
 me of the age of the burn even before I recognized 
 it as fresh, I think that the solution of the situation 
 came to me in an inspiration."
 
 282 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " What is the solution ? " 
 
 " Well, Arms had a pistol in that pocket. With 
 his hand in the pocket he was endeavoring to free 
 it from the hole in the lining, in which it had caught, 
 when he stumbled on the chair and toppled forward, 
 throwing the chair at the same moment. In his effort 
 to catch himself he naturally threw out his left 
 hand. The motion freed the muzzle of the gun with 
 a jerk and caused the fresh rent in the lining. At 
 the same instant his involuntary pressure on the 
 trigger discharged a bullet. The powder singed the 
 lining of the flap and the bullet which, had the man 
 been standing erect, would have sped off at an up- 
 ward angle from him into the room, found its pas- 
 sage blocked by the trunk of his body, which had 
 fallen forward. It took less time to follow these 
 steps than to describe them to you now." 
 
 " Jove ! " cried Milbrath, " it 's a fortune in itself 
 to be able to use the things one knows in that 
 way. It 's marvelous ! " He clapped me across the 
 shoulders heartily in boyish enthusiasm. 
 
 " In my case it 's no gift ; it 's Kilbourne's tui- 
 tion," I said, and my thoughts flew to the lonely 
 man far out at sea. 
 
 " But, Bliss, there are several points that you 
 have n't made clear to me yet. You Ve evolved a 
 satisfactory theory as to the way of Arms' death, 
 but why was he trying to get at his gun in the hap- 
 hazard way that you have represented. His mind 
 did not seem to be on what he was doing." 
 
 " That 's just it. His mind and his eyes, prob- 
 ably, were on some one before him who was driving
 
 BY THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION 283 
 
 him back against the wall. His attention was di- 
 rected toward this some one, but he was preparing 
 to defend himself or to intimidate his adversary." 
 
 " And the ' some one ' was La Cour, you think ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly. The fact that Arms wore his 
 coat at the time of the tragedy indicated that he was 
 1 dressed up.' Would he make himself fine for 
 Horsford, for any of the neighboring farmers, in- 
 deed, when it was his custom to go into the village 
 in his blouse or his shirt sleeves ? No ; he was pre- 
 pared to see some one before whom he stood on his 
 good behavior, and whom he knew to be about the 
 place or about to arrive. I 'm confident it was 
 La Cour, and the next step is to ascertain whether 
 La Cour is Summerfield. Perhaps Horsford's story 
 will shed some light on that point. In any case, 
 Horsford is not the man the police want, and I '11 
 try to convince them of that to-morrow; likewise 
 to learn what that terror-stricken Maggie is holding 
 back. Jove ! She 's to be pitied more than the 
 mother, I think." 
 
 Milbrath agreed with me gravely. 
 
 "If they need help money, you know for 
 the added expenses, or to live, I wish you would see 
 that they get it from me without my name." He 
 spoke with diffidence. 
 
 " All right, Milbrath," I said, " I '11 see to it." 
 
 " And for Horsford, too anything. You un- 
 derstand ? " 
 
 I understood perfectly that the best fellow that 
 was ever held for a crime stood before me. 
 
 We had reached the triangle of woods by this time,
 
 284 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 and were breaking into its gloom when the sound of 
 rapid footsteps behind us arrested our attention and 
 progress. 
 
 Directly we made out the figure of Gaspard 
 hastening toward us. 
 
 " Pardon, m'sieus," he cried, " I haf but learned 
 of your return. It iss of importance, said Edouard, 
 zat zis lettre M'sieu Me'brath should at vonce 
 receive." 
 
 He handed to Milbrath a square of creamy paper. 
 Even in that light I recognized it to be such as I 
 had seen upon Dolly's writing table. 
 
 As Milbrath tore the note from its cover I struck 
 a match and held it so that he could read. An 
 instant later the paper was in my hands and Mil- 
 brath held the match. 
 
 " Read it," he said. 
 
 The sheet contained but one line, and that, ap- 
 parently, had been written in haste : 
 
 Please come to me at once. I am in great distress. 
 
 D. M. 
 
 The envelope, I observed, was addressed to Mil- 
 brath, or, in case of his absence, to me.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE AGITATION OF ME. McCLUEE 
 
 TTALFWAY up the gravel walk to Red Gables 
 *--*- we ceased to run. Dolly's voice singing an 
 Irish lullaby to the tinkling accompaniment of her 
 mandolin, fell gratefully upon our startled senses. 
 A sudden hopefulness that we had merely read into 
 her words that cry for help eased the tension of my 
 feelings. 
 
 It was but a momentary relief, however, for with 
 the next line of the song I recognized that her voice 
 was tremulous and unnatural, and that the effect 
 of cheerfulness was either a mask or an endeavor 
 to sustain her courage. 
 
 Upon our approach she moved nervously and 
 peered into the darkness ; then rose from her chair 
 and met us at the steps. In the light of the hanging 
 porch lamp her features looked drawn, and her eyes 
 were dilated. 
 
 Milbrath's studied composure broke at the sight. 
 Without a thought, apparently, of who might be 
 within the house to see, he took the girl in his arms. 
 
 " What is it, darling ? " he asked softly. 
 
 Dolly buried her face in the broad shoulder which 
 pillowed her head, and burst into tears. If I could 
 have done so I would have turned and fled.
 
 286 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Presently Dolly raised her head, struggling 
 bravely with her emotion. A wee smile glim- 
 mered through the dejection of her features, and 
 she drew Milbrath to a tete-a-tete near where I sat 
 
 " Listen," she whispered, pointing a finger 
 upward. 
 
 Distinctly we heard a sound of which I had 
 been conscious since the moment I reached the 
 house the unceasing click of the heels of a man's 
 shoes on a hard floor, and their subdued fall upon 
 rugs in the room above us. 
 
 " It is grandfather, and it has been like that, 
 never pausing for more than a minute at a time, 
 since his return, two hours ago." 
 
 "Return? From where?" 
 
 " I wish I knew. I have been in Providence 
 and only reached home at seven o'clock. Just be- 
 fore that time Delia says, grandfather started out 
 in the covered buggy, after behaving for an hour 
 in a most extraordinary and unaccountable manner. 
 I was waiting for him, here on the veranda, fearful 
 but curious, for he has not driven alone after dark 
 before in years, when he returned. 
 
 "He barely noticed me as he passed into the 
 house ; and, oh ! his expression ! " Dolly covered 
 her eyes for a moment as if the memory were over- 
 powering. " Only once before have I seen him 
 with that shocked and haggard look, when word 
 came that Mr. Somhers had been killed. And then 
 was the only time that I have known him to pace 
 the floor as you hear him now." 
 
 "Have you spoken with him?" Milbrath asked.
 
 THE AGITATION OF ME. McCLUEE 287 
 
 "I have tried. Twice I have been to his room. 
 Each time the door was closed and locked, and 
 while he opened it upon my knock, it did me no 
 more good than though he had answered from 
 behind it. ' I can't let you in, little one,' he said 
 the first time, and his words sounded as if he had 
 said them many, many times before, ' there is a 
 matter that I must think out quietly and alone. 
 You cannot help me this time.' After that I sat 
 on the porch and listened to his footseps never rest- 
 ing, until I thought I should go mad. Then I went 
 up to him again. That time I think that he scarcely 
 knew what he was saying to me. It was so in- 
 coherent that I do not know now myself. It was 
 about a friend who had startled him. I think he 
 said that his drive had to do with the friend, but 
 whether it was that he met the friend while he 
 was driving, or went to meet the friend I do not 
 know." 
 
 " Perhaps the friend came here ? " Milbrath 
 suggested. 
 
 Dolly shook her head. 
 
 " I have asked," she said. " Neither Delia nor 
 Rose admitted any one to the house all day." 
 
 " Can it be that the Arms tragedy has unnerved 
 him?" I asked casually, without, however, having 
 much belief that such could be the case. 
 
 Again Dolly shook her head, this time em- 
 phatically. 
 
 "I, too, asked that question," she answered, 
 " and Delia, who saw him return from the Arms 
 cottage, where he went as soon as he heard of Jim's
 
 288 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 death, said that though he looked shocked and sym- 
 pathetic, he acted naturally and sat on the lawn 
 and read for an hour before any one noticed any 
 agitation in his manner." 
 
 " And you have been trying to restore him with 
 your music, dear," Milbrath said softly, and he 
 pressed Dolly's tiny hand more closely in his. 
 "Poor little girl!" 
 
 " He loves these old folksongs and I knew that 
 if anything would make him pause and listen and 
 think of me alone down here, they would. But it 
 has been half an hour since I began." 
 
 " Never mind, darling. The trouble cannot be 
 so serious as it looks now. Perhaps, after all, you 
 broke the spell, for listen! He has paused." 
 
 The footsteps had ceased, but before we could 
 do more than exchange glances of pleasure, they 
 were renewed. 
 
 " Shall Bliss and I make a try at the grand- 
 dad ? " Milbrath asked. Then he turned to me. 
 " What do you say, Bliss. Shall we go up ? Once 
 he would do a good deal for me." A spasm of 
 pain crossed his features, but passed directly. 
 " And I believe he would now," he added. " It 
 may be some trouble that he would rather confide 
 first to a man. Doubtless he is exaggerating its 
 seriousness." 
 
 " There is one peculiar point that I have not 
 told you," Dolly said as we moved toward the stair- 
 case hall. " You know that grandfather never per- 
 mits any one but himself to meet me at the sta- 
 tion. He has always declared that service to be
 
 THE AGITATION OF ME. McCLURE 289 
 
 his prerogative, and has even gone for me directly 
 after one of his attacks. Well, this evening 
 Edward met me." 
 
 Milbrath whistled softly. 
 
 " Yes ? " he queried expectantly. 
 
 " The way it came about is the strangest part of 
 this queer affair. After returning from the Arms 
 cottage grandfather sat on the lawn, as I have 
 said, and read for an hour. Just before six o'clock 
 he called Delia and instructed her to tell Edward 
 to have the phaeton ready for him in half an hour. 
 That meant, of course, that he purposed to meet 
 me, as usual. When the phaeton had waited before 
 the door for ten minutes, Delia went up to the 
 study to account for grandfather's unheard-of 
 lateness. The door was closed, and she declares 
 that grandfather was talking to himself in low, 
 excited tones, and pacing the floor as he is doing 
 now. She was afraid to knock, and crept down- 
 stairs again. Just as she reached the kitchen, 
 grandfather whistled down through the tube and 
 ordered Edward to harness the roan to the covered 
 buggy and hitch her at the side entrance, and then 
 to drive in the phaeton as fast as he could for me." 
 
 Milbrath turned upon me the oddest expression 
 that I had ever seen upon his face. It was in one 
 look a query and a desire for my denial, or so I 
 read it, and I believed that the thought that had 
 leaped into my brain had gone, also, to him. 
 
 "Can it be that Mr. McClure knows Mm?" I 
 asked (meaning Summerfield), as we stood to- 
 gether before the study door. " And is it possible 
 
 19
 
 290 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 that he threw himself upon Mr. McClure's protec- 
 tion after the tragedy to-day ? " 
 
 " I don't want to think so," Milbrath answered 
 soberly, " for that would mean another tangle, but 
 it looks " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence then, for in re- 
 sponse to our second knock there was the sound of 
 a turning key and of an opening door, and Mr. 
 McClure stood before us. 
 
 His back was to the light of the room, and 
 against it his usually erect figure looked feeble and 
 stooping. The light from the hall lamp shining 
 on his face showed us that his eyes were bloodshot 
 and anxious, and that the lines about them had 
 deepened to furrows. 
 
 " Good evening, gentlemen," he said quietly. 
 " Will you come in ? " 
 
 He held the door wide for us to pass, and as 
 we did so I felt a thrill of excitement as one 
 will who is confronted suddenly by the unexpected. 
 I was prepared, and I think that Milbrath was, 
 for almost any kind of a reception except the one 
 we were receiving. Quiet courtesy, Mr. McClure's 
 usual manner, had been outside our anticipation. 
 But there we were, seating ourselves at his request 
 in Mr. McClure's study, and there was Milbrath, 
 fumbling a little nervously, perhaps, at his watch 
 fob and saying hesitatingly: 
 
 " We have n't meant to intrude upon you, grand- 
 dad McClure, but Dolly 's a bit unnerved by your 
 evident trouble and her seeming inability to help 
 you. Now, if we could do what she cannot
 
 THE AGITATION OF ME. HcCLURE 291 
 
 one or both of us perhaps we could relieve things 
 all around." 
 
 Mr. McClure had paced the width of the room 
 and back during Milbrath's little speech. He 
 paused abruptly and laid his hand on the young 
 man's shoulder. 
 
 " Thank you, my boy, thank you," he said, and 
 his voice trembled. " If there were anything that 
 mortal could do, next to my little Dolly I should 
 trust you, and our good friend here, with it. It 
 is useless to deny that I have been troubled; aye 
 in dire distress; but it was a matter in which no 
 human counsel would' avail, one which I must 
 settle according to my light and alone." He 
 sank into a chair, and covered his face with his 
 long, shriveled, tanned hands. " And I have set- 
 tled it at last, I believe," he added presently. His 
 hands dropped to the arms of the chair, and he 
 heaved a great sigh, as if of relief. 
 
 " Then, if you will permit the suggestion, sir, I 
 think that you should see Dolly for a moment, to 
 ease her mind, and afterward get to bed at once. 
 You appear to be worn out." 
 
 A shadow of the man's winsome smile played 
 about Mr. McClure's features for an instant. 
 
 " That I will do," he answered. " You may 
 send the little one to me as you go down, and di- 
 rectly afterward I will go to my room. Please 
 believe that I am grateful to both of you for com- 
 ing to my assistance." 
 
 He held out a hand to each of us, cordially, but 
 clearly in dismissal, and I saw slipping from me
 
 292 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 all opportunity to learn whether Richard La Cour 
 were known to him as well as to James Arms, and, 
 perhaps, whether Richard La Cour were, indeed, 
 Philander Summerfield. 
 
 I believed that I understood Mr. McClure well 
 enough to know that a night's rest would only add 
 strength to the resolution he seemed to have made 
 to confide in no one, and if his trouble concerned 
 La Cour and I would ascertain the fact, I must 
 learn it that evening. If the name were unfa- 
 miliar to him no harm could come, surely, from 
 my mention of it. 
 
 " Mr. McClure," I ventured, bracing myself to 
 the occasion, " I regret to trouble you with the 
 subject this evening, but it seems imperative. The 
 crime, or accident, at the cottage to-day appears 
 now to have added another complication to the mat- 
 ter that brought me to Winton, and which I know 
 that you are as interested as any one to see cleared 
 up. It may save Mr. Milbrath and me a great 
 deal of detailed work if you will tell us whether 
 you have ever known a man named Richard La 
 Cour?" 
 
 The expression of dread which sprang into Mr. 
 McClure's eyes at my first words gave way to one 
 of cold reserve, as if he were prepared to hold at 
 any cost to the vow of silence which he had im- 
 posed upon himself, and, at last, to undisguised 
 relief. 
 
 He shook his head promptly. 
 
 " I have never before heard the name," he 
 answered.
 
 THE AGITATION OF ME. McCLUKE 293 
 
 " I believe that he is also known as ' Philander 
 Summerfield,' " I continued. 
 
 " Nor do I know that name ' Philander Sum- 
 merfield.' Curious ! " 
 
 The expression of dread was again in Mr. Mc- 
 Clure's eyes, and he suddenly steadied himself 
 against the back of a chair. 
 
 " He has been an occasional visitor at the Arms 
 cottage this summer. He was there to-day, I be- 
 lieve, and whether responsible for or innocent of 
 the death of Arms, for Joe Horsford's sake he 
 must be apprehended and made to tell what he 
 knows about it. I believe, moreover, that when 
 we do get him we shall have the man who knows 
 why and how Mr. Somhers died." 
 
 Mr. McClure's thin body swayed slightly and 
 his averted face was ghastly. I needed no more 
 to assure me that my words had touched the open 
 wound in the man's breast. 
 
 My mind revolted against further probing, but, 
 with fierce determination, I cast sentiment aside. 
 
 " If these names are strange to you, then, of 
 course, we must continue our investigations with- 
 out your assistance, unless, indeed, Summerfield has 
 still a third cognomen by which he is known to you. 
 I will confide to you that for some time we enter- 
 tained a theory that this man might be a brother 
 of Peter Somhers Francis Somhers, who is sup- 
 posed to have died long ago. More recent devel- 
 opments appear to disprove that hypothesis; but, 
 of course, our new evidence may prove to be false, 
 and Summerfield may really be related to Mr.
 
 294 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Somhers. In that case, and especially if he be an- 
 other Cain, our discovery will avail little, I fear, 
 as Milbrath will remain in the present shadow in 
 preference to exposing his relative." 
 
 Mr. McClure raised his eyes to Milbrath in a 
 glance of quick inquiry. He appeared about to 
 speak, and then to think about it and remain silent. 
 
 " I do not know the name ' La Cour ' or that 
 of ' Summerfield,' " he said after a moment, and 
 with intense weariness. " I do not see that I can 
 help you, though God knows that I want you to 
 be wholly free again, my poor Harry, my boy ! " 
 
 He dropped into a chair and buried his face in 
 his folded arms upon a table. 
 
 And thus we left him for Dolly to comfort.
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIII 
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 
 
 I saw him in the Beverly jail, Hors- 
 ford was hollow-eyed and pale, the effects of 
 a sleepless night of anxiety, but his faith that I 
 would help him had not deserted him. 
 
 " I did no' do it, sir, you know that ? " he said 
 in a dull voice. 
 
 " Certainly I know it, Horsford. I have n't 
 doubted you for a minute, but who did do it ? Can 
 you tell me that ? " 
 
 Horsford looked about to see whether the guard 
 had left us, and finding that he was out of earshot 
 he said slowly: 
 
 " Aye, sir. I 'ave a fancy. There were a stranger 
 there yesterday." 
 
 " Did you hear his name ? " 
 
 " I did not, sir. It were this way : I went hover 
 for the money, as you know, sir. I 'card loud words 
 before I got to the kitchen door, and Jim were 
 sayin' : 
 
 " ' No, you don't get ye're gun now nor ever 'til 
 ye Ve made me a even five 'undred. God ! What 
 d 'ye s'ppose I 'm keepin' ye from the gallows fur, 
 ol' man ? Fur my pleasure ? ' They were 'is words, 
 sir, an' 'e laughed 'is cruel laugh. I could no' 'ear
 
 296 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the words of the answer, sir, but they come fast fur 
 a space, and I 'eard your name, ' Bliss,' sir. Then 
 my foot touched the steps, and I 'eard some one 
 run across the floor. It were a man, not tall as 
 you, sir, with gray 'air and a beard. That were 
 all I could see. 'E went into the back entry. Jim 
 turned 'round on me an' I thought 'e would strike 
 me. 
 
 " ' Gol durn ye ! ' 'e shouted, ' ye bad penny ! 
 Why could no' ye wait 'til noon. I '11 'ave the 
 money then, nor some un '11 be in jail. Clear along 
 wi' ye ! ' 
 
 " They were 'is words again, sir. I 'd not opened 
 my mouth to speak. But I went hout to the stable. 
 I meant to take Grayskin back with me. I 'ad got 
 'er away from the stable and near to the 'ouse when 
 the shot came hand I knew where it was from. 
 I let go the 'alter and ran to the kitchen. And 
 there lay Jim hon the floor, sir, and 'e were dead." 
 
 " Yes," I assented, " and then 8 " 
 
 "Then I ran to the porch and called to the women, 
 and they come hup. You know the rest, sir." 
 
 " You let the man with the gray hair get away ! " 
 I cried. 
 
 " I did n't think of 'im again, sir 'pon my 
 word I did n't till I were back 'ome, sir. When 
 I tried to tell the hofficer who took me, 'e laughed. 
 1 You '11 'ave a chance to tell that to the coroner/ 
 were hall 'e 'd say." 
 
 I turned the situation over in my mind and de- 
 cided upon a course of action. 
 
 " Have patience, Joe. You '11 not be here long,"
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 297 
 
 I promised as I left him. " I '11 see that the little 
 wife and boy get over to see you to-day. She 's 
 doing well these days, is the wife, Joe ? " 
 
 " Aye, sir ! " and Joe's face lighted with the 
 thought. 
 
 The only evidence of value to me that the coro- 
 ner had taken from the scene of the tragedy was 
 the revolver from which the shot was fired. I 
 looked at its silver mountings, its old-fashioned but 
 exquisite workmanship and the intertwined initials 
 " P. S." embossed on the butt, and back to the face 
 of the officer beside me. 
 
 " Do you contend that this was Joseph Horsford's 
 pistol ? " I asked the man. 
 
 " Sure not. We think it 's one the old gentle- 
 man Somhers gave Arms long ago. Them 's his 
 initials there, * P. S.,' you see." 
 
 There was a remote chance that such a theory 
 was correct. Therefore I accepted it tentatively. 
 
 " Will you tell me how you account for the fact 
 that Horsford had it ? " 
 
 The officer looked embarrassed. 
 
 " I 'm not well up on the case, as I 'm not the 
 man who took Joe Horsford," he said. " But I 
 believe the idea is that Arms had lent it to Joe 
 some time." 
 
 " I suppose there have been no developments in 
 the case to-day ? " 
 
 " None that I have heard of." 
 
 I bade the man good day and drove directly to 
 the Arms house. It had an air of being deserted, 
 but Maggie answered my knock. Black rings had
 
 298 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 found their way about her eyes and her face was 
 colorless. Altogether she looked too ill to be up. 
 
 " No ; don't call your mother," I said as she 
 intimated that she would do so. " My business is 
 with you. I 've heard Joe Horsford's story and I 
 know what you failed to tell me last night. Mr. 
 La Cour was here yesterday." 
 
 Maggie sank into a chair. 
 
 " Did Joeie know about Mr. La Cour ? " she half 
 whispered, her eyes full of terror. 
 
 " He knew that he was here with Jim while you 
 were in the garden an elderly man with a gray 
 beard and blue eyes (I saw from Maggie's ex- 
 pression that the description fitted the man) from 
 
 whom Jim got money at intervals and who " 
 
 But I got no further for, with a little cry, Maggie 
 covered her ears with her hands. And then she did 
 just what I might have known that she would do; 
 she fainted. 
 
 My efforts to get water for the girl brought Mrs. 
 Arms from the darkened parlor. She looked piti- 
 fully old and feeble in the morning light, but she 
 had her grief in control. Her face lighted at sight 
 of me. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried. " It were fur ye I 've looked 
 hup the road all the mornin'. Maggie will say out 
 all there is to tell, or I will speak for 'er." Then 
 she caught sight of the unconscious girl. 
 
 It was fully ten minutes before we had her re- 
 stored sufficiently to question. Even then I was 
 loath to agitate her. But Mrs. Arms felt otherwise. 
 
 " It 's 'ard fur Maggie," she said with a pitying
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 299 
 
 glance at the girl, " but ye must know all, sir. 
 Maggie, s'ppose ye go to the buttery and get the 
 gentleman a glass o' wine, and I will tell 'im." 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 " After," she said briefly, and her eyes said 
 plainly that nothing that she was likely to hear or 
 that could result would be worse than the silent 
 misery she had already endured. 
 
 "It's about the ol' gentleman," Mrs. Arms con- 
 tinued, " an' what we know, though it is no' much, 
 may 'elp Joeie. Ye rec'lect I spoke a time back 
 about Mr. La Cour ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Jim's friend who stopped here some- 
 times." 
 
 " Aye ; the same. But it were Jim as were the 
 good friend, an' out o' the kindness o' 'is 'eart took 
 'im in. For 'e should 'ave been in prison, sir! 
 Hist ye ! 'T were 'e as killed the old master! 'im! 
 Not 'Arry Milbrath, mind ye, but 'im! " 
 
 She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper as 
 she spoke these words and leaned toward me with 
 one finger raised to emphasize each slowly uttered 
 syllable. 
 
 Notwithstanding my pre-conviction of this fact 
 I felt a chill crawl up my backbone and set the 
 hairs of my head on end. 
 
 " You have known this how long ? " 
 
 " Sin' last night only, sir, when ye 'ad gone an' 
 Maggie feared fur 'er life in the night an' come 
 an' tol' me all. She 'as known since the airly sum- 
 mer when Mr. La Cour began to come, but Jamie 
 said she would be killed, too, 'f she let any un
 
 300 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 know as 'e were 'ere. They ne'er tol' me, sir, lest 
 my ol' tongue 'd wag as hit did to ye that day." 
 
 " Was Mr. La Cour here when you went to the 
 garden yesterday morning ? " 
 
 " Aye, sir. Or so I 've believed sin' Maggie 
 tol' me this. 'E were 'ere at breakfast, but started 
 away as soon as it were over, an' Jamie said 'e 
 were gone. But I 've been thinkin' as Jamie knew 
 'e 'd be back, an' so 't was 'e 'urried us off to the 
 berry patch an' put on 'is coat and collar. 'E 
 were very careful wi' 'is dress, were Jamie, when 
 the hold gentleman come." 
 
 " Did you not think of Mr. La Cour when you 
 found your son dead? Could you for a moment 
 believe that your nephew did it ? " 
 
 " I thought of nothin', sir, but that Jamie wur 
 dead." 
 
 " And you ? " I said, turning to Maggie and try- 
 ing to speak gently. " Did you think of Mr. La 
 Cour?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I thought of 'im, for his words with Jamie 
 were ofttimes 'ot, but I thought that 'e 'ad gone, 
 and that it must ha' been Joeie." 
 
 She glanced about her nervously, as if afraid of 
 an avenging fury even as she spoke. 
 
 " When did you first think that he might have 
 done it ? " 
 
 " After the coroner came, when I thought 'ow 
 the back door closed in our faces, and Joeie on the 
 porch." 
 
 " Are you certain that Mr. La Cour got away ? "
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 301 
 
 Maggie shivered. 
 
 " 'E must 'ave, sir. Would 'e stay after that? " 
 
 I thought of Red Gables, and of Mr. McClure, 
 but I said: 
 
 " Probably not, especially as he knew the way 
 through the woods to the station." 
 
 " You know that, sir ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and many other things. Do not fear 
 that he will ever return and harm you. He will 
 never come here again. Had he been here since 
 Monday?" 
 
 " Since Friday, sir." She hesitated, but it was 
 plain that her fear was passing. " 'E was afraid 
 of you, sir." 
 
 " Of me ? Do you know why ? " 
 
 "I I 'card 'im say once when 'e was wild 
 ('e was often wild, sir, either with laughter or with 
 anger, but this time it was with something else 
 fear, I thought, sir) 'e said that you would get 
 'im." 
 
 " Maggie," I said quietly after a moment's si- 
 lence, " when Mr. Somhers was killed you were 
 afraid of something. Did you think that your 
 brother had killed him ? " 
 
 " I thought oh, the Lord forgive me ! Yes, 
 sir; I thought it was Jamie, for 'e had said that 
 either the old master or Harry should die." 
 
 She paused, gasped, and then covered her face 
 with her hands and broke into a storm of tears. 
 
 Within another hour I had learned that Mr. 
 La Cour had left Winton by the evening train the 
 day before. He had appeared on the station plat-
 
 302 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 form, as usual, just as the train was coming in, 
 and Hutton had noticed nothing unusual in his 
 appearance. 
 
 While I was puzzled as to where he had hidden 
 himself between the time of the tragedy and the 
 evening hour when Mr. McClure's agitation became 
 evident, my calmer reason of the morning strength- 
 ened my conviction that it was the man known to 
 the Arms family as La Cour who had been the 
 cause of Mr. McClure's distress and of his drive 
 after nightfall in the covered buggy. 
 
 When I returned to Overlook, Gaspard met me 
 with an air of importance. 
 
 " M'sieu shall now know," he said, " vhere zee 
 ol' man run zee day in zee tun-nel iss it? zee 
 place under zee ground ? See ! " 
 
 He extended his open palm on which lay a small 
 Greek cross in gold with the letters " P. S." form- 
 ing a monogram in tiny diamond chips in the centre. 
 I recognized it as a watch charm that Philander 
 Summerfield had worn on the day he sought me in 
 New York. 
 
 " Where did you get it ? " I asked. 
 
 " In zee hothouse, m'sieu. Vill m'sieu come and 
 see?" 
 
 I followed the man to the abandoned hothouse, 
 into which I stepped for the first time, and there 
 found an explanation for the only feature of the 
 case that I had so far encountered (except Mr. 
 McClure's connection with it) , which remained open 
 to speculation: how Philander Summerfield had 
 eluded us.
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 303 
 
 Far under a bench, and next to a side wall where 
 Gaspard found the charm, the dust which covered 
 everything in the place showed recent disturbance, 
 and footprints that were neither mine nor Gas- 
 par d's were visible in both directions on the floor. 
 What is more, they were the prints of square-toed 
 shoes! 
 
 I anathematized myself for a blockhead, a blun- 
 derer, an idiot, as I realized how easily I had been 
 beaten at my own game of cunning; and I blushed 
 to think how amateurish my handling of the case 
 must appear to that subtle old sinner himself who 
 so many times had boldly waved the red flag in 
 my face, only to slip away from me when I reached 
 out to grasp him. 
 
 A week later, with eyes that saw the case clearly 
 for the first time I thanked an all-wise Providence 
 that Philander Summerfield did escape me that 
 morning, stupid though it made me out to be; 
 for, to have taken him then would have been to 
 bring to disaster what had come to be the real pur- 
 pose of my investigation the vindication of the 
 name of Harrison Milbrath. 
 
 Mr. McClure I did not further trouble. The 
 memory of his tortured face rose before me with 
 every thought of him and made the pain that I 
 had inflicted seem unwarrantable in view of the 
 little that I had gained for my case. I did not 
 see him again for several days, for exhaustion fol- 
 lowed his evening of excitement, and for two days 
 Dolly refused to permit even Milbrath to speak 
 with him.
 
 When, however, we met again, he appeared to 
 have accepted the amends I had tried to make to 
 him in the shape of fruit and flowers, in the spirit 
 in which they were sent, and greeted me with his 
 usual cordiality and friendliness. But no word of 
 what had been said at our last meeting was men- 
 tioned, or was reference made to the death of Jim 
 Arms. Only the new lines of pain in the kind old 
 face remained as evidence of the mental struggle 
 through which he had passed, or was passing; but 
 from that hour I felt that Chauncey McClure be- 
 lieved me to know all that I surmised, and later 
 1 found that he credited me with the possession of 
 facts the existence of which at that time I was far 
 from suspecting. Yet he held his peace. 
 
 The day following the Arms tragedy, after a talk 
 with Milbrath, who was unwilling to connect him- 
 self with Horsford's case, I laid before the coroner 
 and the chief of police in Beverly the results of 
 my investigations in the matter; and, twenty-four 
 hours later, Horsford was back at Overlook upon 
 Milbrath's bond, given through me, pending the 
 public examination which the coroner had set for 
 the following Wednesday. 
 
 While I had been detailed and explicit in relat- 
 ing to the officers my line of deductions that resulted 
 in my conviction that Arms' death was due to an 
 accident and not to murder, and had told them all 
 that I had learned from the Arms women about 
 La Cour as La Cour I refrained from any reference 
 to the fact that I had come in contact with the man, 
 and the name of Philander Summerfield was not 
 mentioned.
 
 WHAT MAGGIE KNEW 305 
 
 Nevertheless I determined to force Summerfield's 
 hand by this very trump card my unspoken be- 
 lief, and the day that gave Horsford his condi- 
 tional freedom found a letter on its way to Boston 
 in which I informed Mr. Summerfield that a man 
 answering his description was wanted in Winton 
 for the death, or as a witness to the accidental death, 
 of a farmer named Arms, and that he was in great 
 danger of being taken and held for the crime un- 
 less he came forward and gave an account of his 
 whereabouts on the fifth of September. 
 
 These things accomplished there seemed little 
 need for our presence in Winton, and a great de- 
 sire to get away seized me. The way that I had 
 taken hold of the Arms mystery appeared profes- 
 sional to the people of the two villages, and the 
 original suspicion that I was investigating the 
 Somhers mystery became a conviction. 
 
 Moreover, Milbrath, whose beard had for a time 
 disguised him, had been recognized, and the cor- 
 diality or the coldness with which he was received 
 by his old acquaintances had so telling an effect 
 on his spirits that I suggested a return to Boston. 
 
 " Gaspard can forward by special delivery any 
 mail that comes, so there will be little delay in 
 getting the answer if we hear from the Virginia 
 advertisement or from Summerfield," I said. 
 " Moreover, we shall be on the spot when the men 
 on the case have something to report." 
 
 " Some one of them is bound to report some 
 time, I suppose," Milbrath answered, " but it seems 
 a deuced long time since they went to work, and 
 
 20
 
 306 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 there 've been no results from them yet. If the 
 men at the Park Square station are up to their 
 duty the old fellow must have got into town by 
 another route if he is there." 
 
 " Well, the police throughout the country are on 
 the lookout for him now, wherever he is, and he 
 may find it difficult to evade them for long unless he 
 changes his guise, which he may do, of course. I 'm 
 of the opinion that in any case he will return to 
 Boston sooner or later. Then it is a mere matter 
 of time until we get him. By the way, I wonder 
 whether we 'd better have the outgoing transat- 
 lantic steamers watched ? " 
 
 Milbrath laughed. 
 
 " We shall have the whole private detective force 
 of Boston at our beck and call if we continue to 
 draw on it," he said. " But anything to win. 
 Have every dock in the country sentineled if you 
 think best" 
 
 " I '11 consider that ! But we will go to Boston 
 in the morning. Going to Red Gables now ? " 
 
 We had risen from the supper table and McClure- 
 ward was Milbrath' s usual outlook at that hour. 
 
 Milbrath nodded and smiled. 
 
 " The old story of the spider and the fly. Will 
 you come with me ? " 
 
 " Not now, thanks. I think I '11 have another 
 look at some of the things in the little room. Per- 
 haps I '11 step over in time to walk back with you. 
 In any case, give my best to the old gentleman and 
 the little wife."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTEB REVEALED 
 
 SAT on the portico and smoked until the soft 
 -- darkness closed in around me. Then I took 
 a lighted lamp and went into the little room which 
 Milbrath and I had not entered together since that 
 memorable Sunday evening. 
 
 Everything about the tiny apartment appeared 
 to be as I had left it on the following morning. 
 The gaping aperture made by the splintered door 
 resembled the entrance to a cavern, and the Meph- 
 istopheles behind the tree in the picture above the 
 desk peered down upon the devastation with an 
 expression that in the uncertain light of one lamp 
 appeared wholly diabolical. 
 
 A thought too wild, it seemed, to be anything 
 but fancy had been developing in my mind during 
 the past few hours, since a visit in the afternoon 
 to the little room, and I was in the same little 
 room again to verify it by further evidence or 
 reject it. 
 
 Seating myself before the desk I rolled back the 
 top. Then I drew from my pocket the contract 
 that I had made with Philander Summerfield on 
 August 16th. 
 
 Ah ! I was quicker to detect differences in hand- 
 writing than I had been when Murray Kilbourne
 
 308 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 assured me that the signature of Mr. Summerfield 
 was assumed. How plainly I saw the difference 
 now ! What was more, I saw that the filled-in por- 
 tions of the contract form were a cross between the 
 bold hieroglyphics of Peter Somhers and the cramped, 
 small hand of Philander Summerfield, while the 
 signature was almost a facsimile of that which 
 Philander Summerfield had made upon the two 
 contracts that we had found! 
 
 I passed my hands across my eyes, and for an 
 instant sat in silence, dreading to take the next 
 step. 
 
 I turned, finally, to the blue, much blurred blotter 
 upon the desk, with its border of tiny ink dots, as 
 if their maker had sat with a well-wet pen in his 
 hand through many an abstracted moment. I had 
 worked out a theory that the blotter could tell. 
 Would it tell it? I turned the magnifying glass 
 upon it with bated breath. 
 
 The mass of blur was so heavy that at first I 
 could distinguish nothing, but persevering I de- 
 tected, at length, a letter for which I looked a 
 capital S. After a little further study I found, 
 also, a capital P. But that which lay between the 
 two letters was too indistinct to read. 
 
 It occurred to me to turn the blotter, and I did 
 so. It was almost as much used on the one side 
 as on the other. No; I could make out a little 
 more! 
 
 With the help of the lens I picked out innumer- 
 able capitals always the same, P. and S., P. and 
 S. But soon I found that they were in a different
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTER REVEALED 309 
 
 style of handwriting. Presently I found the key. 
 One was the handwriting of Peter Somhers, the 
 other of Philander Summerfield. I could not 
 doubt it. 
 
 I sprang to my feet and held the blotter to the 
 mirror. There the names appeared over and over 
 again, indistinct and in places almost illegible, but 
 there, nevertheless. But it was Philander Sum- 
 merfield always, never Peter Somhers, as at first 
 I supposed. My mistake was due to the fact that 
 the signature changed gradually from the bold up- 
 rightness of Peter Somhers' chirography to the 
 smaller hand of Philander Summerfield! 
 
 In my excitement I did not notice the approach 
 of footsteps and I was pacing up and down the 
 tiny room, muttering to myself when Milbrath's 
 voice brought me back to my senses. 
 
 " You back so soon ! " I cried ; " was no one at 
 home?" 
 
 " The evening must have been interesting to 
 you," he answered dryly. " It is considerably past 
 ten o'clock." 
 
 And so it was. The two hours that I had spent 
 in the little room had passed like so many minutes. 
 
 " What 's the matter with you, old man ? " asked 
 Milbrath, coming nearer to me. " Is it the way 
 
 the light falls on you or are you Lord ! Bliss. 
 
 You are pale ghostly ! What 's up ? " 
 
 He glanced hastily about as if expecting to find 
 the reason for my changed color in some tangible 
 form, and his eyes paused in question on the blotter 
 that I still held.
 
 310 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Come here and pinch me," I said. " Pinch 
 hard. I want to be sure that I 'm not dreaming. 
 Ouch ! Yes ; that 's real enough. Now, see whether 
 this is." 
 
 I outlined with a pencil the letters as I had 
 found them, and then again held the blotter be- 
 fore the mirror. 
 
 " Whose handwriting is it ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, it 's uncle's," answered Milbrath promptly. 
 
 " All of it ? " 
 
 " Well, this, surely, is his, and this, and this. 
 Here it changes and is almost like some one's else 
 Summerfield's, no doubt, and here it is entirely 
 disguised." 
 
 "Do these facts signify nothing to you, Mil- 
 brath?" 
 
 Milbrath looked at me sharply. 
 
 "I suppose they show that uncle was to take on 
 old Summerfield's handwriting when Summerfield 
 became him, so to speak. And I dare say it may 
 signify what I hadn't thought of before, that he 
 purposed to be Summerfield during the time a 
 sort of change of mantles if that is what you 
 mean." 
 
 " It is not at all what I mean. It seems to me 
 altogether unlikely that Mr. Somhers would play 
 the part of Summerfield while Summerfield was 
 doing Somhers. I wish to God it were probable, 
 though." 
 
 " Then, for heaven's sake, what do you mean ? " 
 cried Milbrath. 
 
 In answer I reached under the desk and brought
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTER REVEALED 311 
 
 forth a book that I had found there behind the 
 typewriter that afternoon when I took the machine 
 out to get a sample of its type. 
 
 It was a scrapbook with a cover of red and white 
 mottled pasteboard, and on the back of black linen 
 was pasted a square of white paper on which was 
 labeled in the bold, upright hand that was un- 
 questionably Mr. Somhers', one word: 
 
 " PERSONAL." 
 
 It was filled with newspaper clippings, and as 
 Milbrath took the book in his hands and opened it 
 I knew that he was wondering, as I had wondered, 
 what on earth Peter Somhers, a reticent, retiring 
 man, could have found about himself in print, or 
 have put in print, that would fill a volume like 
 that. 
 
 From cover to cover it contained nothing but 
 reports of the coroner's inquiry into the death of 
 Peter Somhers, and of Harrison Milbrath's two 
 trials ! 
 
 Milbrath fingered the leaves of the book, at first 
 with a surprised expression, and then with a puz- 
 zled, questioning look. 
 
 Presently he looked up from it and off into space. 
 When his eyes returned to mine, I knew that he 
 had reached the conclusion that seemed inevitable. 
 
 " Great God ! Bliss," he whispered. " You don't 
 mean to tell me that uncle put these clippings in 
 here ; that he is Summerfield ? " 
 
 " It looks like that" 
 
 " Then he is La Cour."
 
 312 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Milbrath hid his head in his folded arms on the 
 couch and his big frame shook with emotion. Pres- 
 ently he lifted his chin to his hands, his elbows 
 resting on the couch, and again stared off into 
 space. He appeared to be thinking deeply. Then 
 he sat upright and his face was colorless. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I see it now why granddad 
 McClure flinched at the name of Summerfield, why 
 he could not tell why Arms remained here so 
 long, and why he harbored La Cour Summer- 
 field him ! He knew something which we have 
 yet to learn, something that we have probably not 
 dreamed of yet. And it was the other, the real 
 Summerfield, who lay out there with uncle's ring 
 upon his finger and fooled the world! Yes, yes. 
 I see it now ! " 
 
 I made no answer, .and after a moment Milbrath 
 continued : 
 
 " Can it be that the compact between uncle and 
 Summerfield was that Summerfield was to die ? " 
 
 I dissented with energy. 
 
 " Of what earthly use would a fortune of thirty 
 thousand dollars be to a dead man without 
 friends ? " I asked. " Moreover, the contract stip- 
 ulated that the impersonation was to be for a year, 
 if Mr. Somhers desired." 
 
 Milbrath groaned. 
 
 " So it did. I did n't credit the possibility, 
 myself. I think I was only trying to find 
 an explanation that does n't make the truth so 
 hideous.
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTER REVEALED 313 
 
 " I don't believe this is all new to me," he went 
 on after a slight pause. " Half a dozen times I 've 
 been on the point of asking you whether the eyes 
 of the man called Summerfield, whom we 've both 
 seen, were not more like uncle's than Summerfield's 
 of the picture. So, I Ve been pretty near the brink 
 of a revelation, you see. But, Bliss, how can it 
 be just as it looks now? Uncle would never kill. 
 Why, he was not even a sportsman because he could 
 not see blood shed. It must have been an accident 
 the death of Summerfield, as you proved that 
 of Arms to be." 
 
 I wished with all my heart that I could en- 
 courage Milbrath. 
 
 " That might be," I answered, " but his reason 
 for letting the body be found as it was of per- 
 mitting it to be mistaken for his and for letting 
 you bear the responsibility for the accident ? 
 How do you explain those things ? " 
 
 Milbrath gazed at me silently, and the light that 
 had sprung to his eyes nickered out. 
 
 " He is the only one who can answer those ques- 
 tions," he said presently. " But there is some ter- 
 rible mistake still to be explained, or Uncle Peter 
 was not the man I always believed him." 
 
 I had long since reached the conclusion that 
 Peter Somhers had not lived the life of an up- 
 right man, but it was useless, without proof, to 
 upset Milbrath's beautiful faith in his uncle's 
 integrity. 
 
 There was a long pause. Then Milbrath rose 
 wearily.
 
 314 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " If you will excuse me I think I will go to my 
 room now," he said, and as he passed me he laid 
 a hand upon my shoulder. 
 
 " You 've been a good friend to me, Bliss, and I 
 appreciate your efforts of the last weeks. I 'd 
 give everything I own to change the past for him ; 
 but since it is unalterable, I suppose it is better 
 that I should know the facts and make the best of 
 them. Of course this last discovery changes the 
 aspect of everything. We can no longer go on in 
 our efforts to bring him to justice. You under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " I know what you mean. But you forget that 
 the police are after La Cour, and it is only a matter 
 of time when he will be brought to Beverly to ex- 
 plain his connection with the Arms tragedy. It 's 
 up to him to make good then, and I believe he '11 
 do it for that case. But the other! In the cir- 
 cumstances would it not be wiser for us to write 
 to him or see him if we can and let him 
 know that we know who he is ? " 
 
 Milbrath considered the question for a moment; 
 then he signified his acquiescence. 
 
 " Will you write ? Tell him that I bear no ill 
 will against him." 
 
 I followed Milbrath out of the little room, but 
 paused in the library to write a short letter which 
 I addressed to " Philander Summerfield." 
 
 Then I went out to the portico and endeavored 
 to turn my thoughts from the revelations of the 
 evening into pleasant channels. But no sooner 
 came a moment's diversion than the muffled sound
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTER RE.VEALED 315 
 
 of footfalls in Milbrath's room brought me back 
 with a shock to the remorseless present. 
 
 Milbrath's face had aged visibly when we met 
 at the breakfast table seven hours later. I won- 
 dered whether he had found any rest, for, until 
 dawn I had heard him moving about his room, 
 which was next to mine. 
 
 When I had given Gaspard orders to be ready 
 to drive us to the Beverly station at ten o'clock, 
 and the man had left the room, Milbrath turned 
 to me in question. 
 
 " To Boston ? " 
 
 " Yes ; you are to go with me, you know." 
 
 " That was yesterday. Bliss, we can't go on 
 hunting him down, we simply can't. If the police 
 get him for the Arms affair, that 's another matter 
 and we can try to get him out of it without betray- 
 ing him. But this is different. I 'm the one who 
 is most concerned now, you see, and I want to drop 
 the case." 
 
 "And I don't want to drop it. I can't drop it 
 now." 
 
 Milbrath was silent for a brief space. When he 
 spoke his voice appealed. 
 
 " Bliss," he said. " You 've been my friend in 
 need and I hope that you are not going back on me ?" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " Then will it make any difference in your pres- 
 ent determination to go on if I tell you that it 
 would only be doubling my trouble for you to suc- 
 ceed? I believe life would be unbearable to me if 
 you exposed that old man ! "
 
 316 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " You will see things in a different light some 
 time. Two wrongs never made a right, remember." 
 
 Milbrath hesitated. 
 
 " Once I offered to double Summerfield's reward 
 if you found the person who killed uncle. Will 
 you believe that I know my mind at this moment 
 if I agree to treble the sum if you will drop the 
 case as it stands now? This is an expression of 
 my wishes ; it is not a bribe." 
 
 Treble the sum! That would mean sixty thou- 
 sand dollars ! And if I declined this proposition 
 what could I hope to gain from my summer's work ? 
 Nothing; absolutely nothing. I could no longer 
 claim Summerfield's reward, nor Milbrath's, if I 
 went on now against his wishes. 
 
 Perhaps it was that I wanted the glory of hav- 
 ing won, of having solved a riddle wrongly an- 
 swered by some of the cleverest detective skill in 
 the country. I do not know. But certain it is 
 that my indecision was for a moment only. 
 
 " I can't drop it can't drop it," I declared 
 with reiterated obstinacy. " I 'm your friend, yes ; 
 and it is my duty, if there were no other reason, 
 to keep you from taking a step that will only add 
 to your unhappiness in the long run. But this 
 much I will promise, Milbrath. By no mischance 
 that I am responsible for, shall he be arrested or his 
 case made public or until you give the word. 
 What I want is to talk with him, man to man. 
 Perhaps then we may find a way wholly to vindi- 
 cate you while concealing the awkward truth." 
 
 " Give me your hand on that," said Milbrath.
 
 WHAT THE BLOTTER REVEALED 317 
 
 And we shook. " Now I will go with you any- 
 where, and do your bidding as before. Ten 
 o'clock we are to leave here, did you say ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that will give me a moment's talk at 
 the station with the Pingree Agency man who is 
 due here about that time." 
 
 " A detective down here ! At Overlook ? " 
 
 " To .join forces with Gaspard. I can't leave 
 him here alone while Summerfield is at large, im- 
 probable as it is that he will ever return." 
 
 Milbrath offered no comment to this explana- 
 tion ; and we each smoked a cigar in the shade of 
 the morning-glory vines on the side porch with 
 the passing of scarcely a word until Gaspard drew 
 rein before us in the dogcart and thus reminded us 
 that the time had arrived for us to depart. 
 
 When we reached Boston there was a letter 
 awaiting me at the Parker House. It had been 
 mailed from Station C in Boston on the previous 
 day and consisted of one piece of paper. On it was 
 written : 
 
 DEAR YOUNG MAN: A free conscience has no need 
 for worry. Being innocent of the crime against the 
 man Arms I find no reason to surrender myself for ex- 
 amination, as you suggest. 
 
 When it seems desirable to have another conference 
 with you I shall again communicate with you. 
 Yours with respect, 
 
 PHILANDER SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 " Jove ! There 's finished villainy for you ! " I 
 exclaimed to Milbrath. " Well, we '11 see whether
 
 318 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 our next conference awaits upon Mr. Summer- 
 field's time ! By the way, do you observe how this 
 letter is addressed? Not to Winton, from where 
 my communications to him have been dated, but 
 here to this hotel ! "
 
 CHAPTEK XXXV 
 
 BUN TO EAKTH 
 
 WE had been in Boston for three days before 
 anything of note occurred. During that 
 time we were in daily communication with the men 
 on the case and were led into following up one or 
 two false clues. But even that was just as well, 
 perhaps, for activity with disappointing results 
 was better for us at that time than idleness. 
 
 In every morning's mail came a report from 
 Crandall, the detective stationed at Overlook, but 
 there had been no news in any one of them. 
 
 On Monday morning an envelope postmarked 
 " Richmond, Va.," lay among the letters awaiting 
 me in the hotel office. I found that it was signed 
 by " Herbert Harris," and in substance was as 
 follows : 
 
 My attention has been attracted by your extraor- 
 dinary advertisement in the Richmond Times of to-day. 
 
 A Philander Summerfield was an instructor in his- 
 tory in the University of Virginia for two years, 18 
 to 18 . He was a man of ability, but wasted his best 
 energies in dreams of things that he never accomplished. 
 
 I was an assistant in the university at the time of his 
 instructorship there and came to know him well. He 
 was a man of forty, or thereabouts, I should judge, of
 
 320 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 medium height, and with dark brown hair and a mus- 
 tache of the same color. He was inclined to stoop, and 
 was somewhat negligent in his dress. His eyes were 
 his most remarkable feature, light blue-gray with 
 heavy white lids which betrayed his tendency to the 
 impractical. 
 
 He left Charlottesville to accept a position as tutor 
 to the son of a wealthy New Yorker, and the last that 
 I heard of him about three years later he was still 
 with the young man and traveling in Europe. 
 
 If there is any further information that I can give 
 you about Mr. Summerfield, please call upon me. 
 
 " There," I said, tossing the letter to Milbrath, 
 " what do you think of that ? " 
 
 Milbrath read the letter through and handed it 
 back to me. 
 
 " I cannot see that we have gained much," he 
 said thoughtfully. - " Whether, for instance, he left 
 any near relatives. Yes ; I know that he told Mr. 
 Grayson that he had no living relatives but he 
 may have had, and if we can do anything for 
 them " 
 
 " Yes ; well, will you come with me ? " I said, 
 starting up. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " To a photographer, the first who can do some 
 copying this morning." 
 
 " You mean to have the picture of uncle 
 copied ? " 
 
 " Yes, with your permission, and the other. 
 We shall see whether Mr. Herbert Harris recog- 
 nizes one of them as the Philander Summerfield 
 he knew."
 
 RUN TO EARTH 321 
 
 We were not long in finding a photographer 
 who could copy, develop and print the pictures for 
 us, and that afternoon a special delivery letter left 
 the Boston post office for Mr. Herbert Harris, 
 Richmond, Virginia. 
 
 The answer was as prompt, and reached me 
 three days later in an hour of excitement. 
 
 Mr. Harris knew his man, unquestionably. 
 
 Although considerably aged since I last saw him, the 
 print that I have marked with a cross is without doubt 
 of Mr. Summerfield. The expression of the eyes is un- 
 mistakable. The other print, while very like him, must 
 be of another man. 
 
 Answering your inquiry as to Mr. Summerfield'a 
 family connections, I regret that I can give you little 
 information on the point. That he had no immediate 
 relatives I am certain, for I remember that he alluded 
 to the fact on several occasions. 
 
 " The brother story was all a pleasant fiction on 
 Mr. Somhers' part," I remarked " when he called 
 upon Grayson, you know." 
 
 Milbrath nodded. 
 
 " I did not doubt it in the least," he said, " the 
 only question in my mind now is concerning this 
 Summerfield himself his identity." 
 
 " And that we shall soon know, if I am not mis- 
 taken," I answered. 
 
 We had just received a message from the Pin- 
 gree Agency that one of our men was starting to 
 us with news and he was announced at that 
 moment. 
 
 21
 
 322 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " We have traced the old gentleman, sir," he 
 said to Milbrath as he entered. 
 
 My heart jumped into my throat and my quick 
 glance at Milbrath showed me that he had gone white 
 to the lips. 
 
 " Tell us about it," he managed to articulate, as 
 he motioned the man to a chair. 
 
 " I 'm on the post office day watch, sir, and this 
 morning, just as I was going on duty, who should 
 I see at the main entrance but the old man. His 
 maneuvers first attracted my attention, for he 
 seemed to be peering into the lobby as if ready to 
 turn back on the instant. As soon as I made sure 
 he was the man I wanted, I called a herdic and 
 stood waiting by the curb when he came out fol- 
 lowed by the night watch. Evidently the old man 
 did n't suspect he. was followed till he looked back 
 and saw Mr. Hays the other man, sir. But he 
 knew it then, for he darted down the steps like a 
 rabbit and ran for a cab that was standing near. 
 Hays and I had agreed upon some signals for use in 
 a situation like this, and I signaled to him to 
 hold back and let the old man think he had made 
 a mistake in believing he was followed, while I kept 
 behind him. So when the old gentleman drove 
 on, I drove on; when his horse trotted mine did 
 likewise, when his went slow, mine went ditto. We 
 wound around the city unnecessarily, I should 
 
 judge, and brought up in Dorchester at 116 
 
 Street. I saw the old gentleman go in by latchkey 
 at that address. That, I believe, sir, is all that you 
 instructed me to do ? "
 
 RUN TO EARTH 323 
 
 " Yes," answered Milbrath, " that was all. And 
 that is all you did ? " 
 
 " It is, sir, except to return to the agency and 
 report, and I was sent direct to you to Mr. Bliss, 
 was the name." 
 
 " Mr. Bliss is my friend here, but in this case 
 it is all the same." 
 
 " Very well, sir." And bidding us good day he 
 was gone. 
 
 I put on my mackintosh and picked up an um- 
 brella for there was a drizzling rain outside 
 but Milbrath made no move to accompany me. 
 He sat with one elbow on a chair arm and his head 
 in his hand. 
 
 " Are you not going with me ? " I asked. 
 
 " I suppose so. You will not take the police into 
 your confidence ? " 
 
 " Not at present. Not at all, probably, unless 
 you are willing." 
 
 We found the house we sought to be a modest 
 and neat three-story and basement brick structure. 
 There was an apothecary's shop on the corner next 
 door, and we went in there and made inquiry 
 about the house. It was conducted by Mrs. Ray- 
 mond, the clerk told us, and was a quiet and ex- 
 clusive furnished-room place. 
 
 Thus primed, we called upon Mrs. Raymond, 
 an intelligent woman past middle life. 
 
 " Had she any rooms to rent ? Yes ; two, en 
 suite, vacated unexpectedly that morning." 
 
 On what floor ? 
 
 The second ; fine large rooms with a private bath 
 'between them.
 
 324 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 We asked to see the rooms, and were shown up 
 a comfortably carpeted staircase to a room looking 
 out upon the street through a " swell front " win- 
 dow. It was unusually well furnished for a lodg- 
 ing house, and I think the landlady saw our 
 interchange of surprised glances as Milbrath and 
 I looked around us, for she remarked that a recent 
 long illness of her husband had made it necessary 
 for her to throw open her house temporarily. 
 
 The rear room was furnished as a sleeping room, 
 and both rooms and the bath were pictures of 
 comfort. 
 
 " You have an acquaintance of ours with you," 
 I said abruptly as we looked about, " Mr. Sum- 
 merfield ? " 
 
 Mrs. Raymond repeated the name and shook 
 her head. 
 
 " No person of that name has ever roomed here," 
 she said. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " I cried in amazement, 
 " I was told only this morning that he was here." 
 
 " I have never heard the name before." 
 
 " An elderly gentleman with a gray beard and 
 light-blue eyes." 
 
 " That answers the description of Mr. Emerson, 
 who had these rooms." 
 
 " And left to-day ? Queer if Summerfield as- 
 sumed a name," I remarked in a theatrical aside 
 and looked at Milbrath. 
 
 " Did he tell you where he was leaving for, 
 madam ? " 
 
 Mrs. Raymond answered us in the negative, and 
 regarded us questioningly.
 
 RUN TO EARTH 325 
 
 " When he engaged the rooms two weeks ago 
 he paid me in advance for a month, but told me 
 that he might be called away at any moment, and 
 to-day the summons evidently came. He left 
 scarcely more than an hour ago." 
 
 " Ah ! I wonder whether the poor old man re- 
 ceived bad news from home ? " 
 
 " Why, did he have a home ? " asked Mrs. Ray- 
 mond in surprise. " I have no wish to gossip 
 about him, but he scarcely appeared like a home 
 man. He was very uneasy and nervous most of 
 the time and I fancied that he had some business 
 worry. When he came he told me that he was 
 without acquaintances in Boston, but as I require 
 references he asked me to call upon the First 
 National Bank." 
 
 That was the bank, I recalled, to which he had 
 referred me. 
 
 " Do you expect," I said presently, " that he will 
 return ? We were influenced to come here, which 
 is a little out of our way, because we understood 
 that he was here. We are visitors in Boston from 
 his home town," I added at a venture. 
 
 " He told me not to keep the rooms for him," 
 Mrs. Raymond answered hesitatingly. 
 
 I searched the room eagerly with my eyes as we 
 talked, hoping to find a piece of paper or some 
 other bit overlooked by the recent tenant which 
 would help us. But apparently he had been cau- 
 tious to leave absolutely nothing behind, and we 
 took our leave presently without having gained 
 very much through our ruse, or, I regret to say,
 
 326 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 without having in any way enriched the accom- 
 modating Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 I was inexpressibly chagrined and correspond- 
 ingly disappointed that I had permitted Mr. Smn- 
 merfield again to slip through my fingers. I began 
 to have an uncomfortable feeling that he was too 
 clever for me, and it put me upon my keenest 
 mettle. 
 
 It was evident that the old fellow had divined 
 that we were again upon his scent, hence his hasty 
 departure from his comfortable quarters with Mrs. 
 Raymond, and, logically, he would leave town this 
 time, but for where ? 
 
 As soon as we were away from Mrs. Raymond 
 I asked Milbrath to go to the North Station and 
 watch for Summerfield at the entrance to the 
 trains, follow him if he saw him and telegraph 
 me where to join him. Then I telephoned to the 
 Pingree Agency and had men detailed immediately 
 for a similar purpose at the other stations. I 
 went myself to the Park Square Station, where, 
 only the day before, we had abandoned a watch. 
 
 I left instructions to deliver at once any message 
 that might come for me, and then I made the 
 acquaintance of the gateman and adroitly put a 
 few questions. I did not speak of Summerfield's 
 rounded shoulders, for I began to surmise that, 
 like his handwriting, they were assumed. But so 
 far as the gateman could recall no elderly man at 
 all like Mr. Summerfield had passed that way 
 during the past hour and a half which was one 
 of the quietest periods in the day at that station.
 
 RUN TO EARTH 32? 
 
 About eleven o'clock a boy brought me this 
 telegram : 
 
 Have the old gentleman in sight. Will keep you in- 
 formed by wire to Parker House. 
 
 BRIDGEMAN. 
 
 In less time than it takes to write it I was out 
 of the Park Square Station, in a herdic, and on 
 my way to pick up Milbrath and together we re- 
 turned to the hotel. What Bridgeman could be 
 thinking of to leave us for six hours without news 
 after that I could not, at the time, imagine. But 
 from noon until nearly six o'clock we tried to kill 
 time in the lobby and cafe of the Parker House. 
 At last, when I think we could have waited no 
 longer, a telegram was handed to me. It contained 
 but one sentence: 
 
 Chequomegan House, Lyndeth, Mass., on North 
 Shore. BRIDGEMAN. 
 
 " How in the Well, how do you get to 
 
 Lyndeth, anyway ? " I asked Milbrath. 
 
 " Give it up," he answered. " Here, perhaps 
 the clerk may know." 
 
 Fortunately the clerk at the desk knew, and 
 with the additional assistance of a railway map, a 
 time-table, a cab, a railroad and perhaps a few 
 other accessories, we found ourselves in Lyndeth 
 just as the last streaks of daylight were saying 
 good night to the rock-bound shore. 
 
 A bus, boldly lettered, " Chequomegan House,"
 
 328 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 was backed up with invitingly opened door against 
 the covered platform of the station, and into it we 
 stepped the only passengers and presently we 
 were rumbling over hard and level roads so white 
 in the evening light as to look as if made of sea 
 sand. 
 
 Lyndeth is a tree-cloistered suburb of a great 
 manufacturing center, and the two hotels quiet 
 summer hostelries stood almost side by side 
 among the trees a hundred feet, or more, from the 
 edge of the rocky bluff that forms the ocean front- 
 age. A little to the north a smooth, white beach 
 reaches townward; to the south a finger of land 
 juts r into the ocean and upholds the beacon light 
 which, with the rolling bell-buoy just below, for 
 years has warned the passing seamen of the dangers 
 of that shore. 
 
 Bridgeman proved to be the detective who had 
 called upon us in the morning. He stood on the 
 steps of the Chequomegan House as we drove up. 
 
 " He 's in there," he said respectfully, with a 
 jerk of his thumb backward, as we stepped upon 
 the veranda. 
 
 " What name ? " 
 
 "La Cour. Richard La Cour." 
 
 " From where ? " 
 
 " From Paris, France, he has registered." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I 'm registered also. Room opposite his. Told 
 the clerk the old fellow was irresponsible and I was 
 following quietly." 
 
 "Good!"
 
 RUN TO EARTH 329 
 
 I drew Milbrath to one side. 
 
 " I shall stand by my promise not to bring him 
 to public notice without your consent," I said, 
 " but if he endeavors to outwit us again before we 
 have the truth from his lips, you are willing, I 
 hope, that Bridgeman should follow him ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; no doubt that would be best. We 
 must have his story." 
 
 " Then I will instruct Bridgeman," and I turned 
 to the detective. 
 
 " We mean to see this Mr. La Cour before we 
 leave here," I said. " We have no warrant for his 
 arrest, and, probably, shall make no effort to de- 
 tain him, but we don't want him, by any chance, 
 to give us the slip before we have talked with him. 
 You understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Very well. Then we shall leave him in your 
 hands. We shall register and go to our rooms and 
 later will communicate with you. Have you man- 
 aged to dine ? " 
 
 " Not yet, sir. Men of my profession can do 
 with very little when need be." 
 
 " Better order something to your room, never- 
 theless, and make an excuse to keep your door 
 open, even if you see Mr. Milbrath and myself go 
 into the old man's room." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Milbrath and I registered, and were assigned 
 to adjoining rooms on the second floor, at the other 
 end of the hall, I soon found, from the ones occu- 
 pied by Bridgeman and his man.
 
 330 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Before the call boy left us I instructed him to 
 take the envelope that I gave him to Mr. La Cour 
 and to await an answer. The envelope, which was 
 sealed and addressed, contained both Milbrath's card 
 and mine, and on the paper which enfolded them 
 I had penciled: 
 
 MB. SOMHEES : We are here to know the truth, and 
 we shall follow you now until we see you face to 
 face and learn from your lips the reason for this 
 melodrama. 
 
 It is Mr. Milbrath's expressed wish that you shall not 
 be punished for the great wrong you have done him, 
 or for that other wrong for which you must answer at 
 another than an earthly tribunal. But we must talk 
 man to man, and find a way not only to clear your 
 nephew's name from the dishonor which, under present 
 conditions, must always be associated with it, but a 
 way to clear Hereford, who is charged with the murder 
 of Arms. ELMER BLISS. 
 
 It was ten minutes before the boy was back. He 
 handed me a letter which was not only sealed in 
 its envelope of lined linen paper, but sealed, as 
 well, with wax. It was addressed to me, and was 
 as follows: 
 
 MR. BLISS: Pray grant me to-night's rest before I 
 meet you. I am worn out both nervously and physi- 
 cally, and there is a statement begun in writing which 
 I must finish before we can discuss the matters to 
 which you have referred. At whatever hour you may 
 name you may come to me in the morning. I shall not 
 try to evade you this time. I have no desire to do so ;
 
 RUN TO EARTH 331 
 
 but if I had, the man in the room across the hall would 
 doubtless restrain me. I observed him on the train 
 to-day, but did not suspect at the time that he was your 
 agent. P. S. 
 
 I handed this note to Milbrath. There was no 
 disguise in the handwriting this time. It was bold 
 and upright, though it betrayed evidence of bodily 
 weakness or great mental perturbation. 
 
 Milbrath read it through like a man in a dream, 
 and then he leaned his head back on the high back 
 of the chair in which he sat and closed his eyes. 
 
 The boy, whom I had forgotten, was regarding 
 first one and then the other of us with quick eyes 
 that bulged with curiosity. I dismissed him and 
 walked down the hall behind him to Bridgeman's 
 room. 
 
 " We shall have to make an all night watch of 
 it," I said briefly. " Can you rest now and let 
 me take your place until two o'clock ? " 
 
 Bridgeman's face betrayed no surprise. I dare 
 say he was accustomed to the unexpected in pretty 
 nearly every form. 
 
 " I could, no doubt, sir ; but, if you will pardon 
 me, it is wholly unnecessary, unless you have a 
 special wish to be here. I am frequently on duty 
 all night as well as all day, and of late it has been 
 all night instead of all day." 
 
 " It is hard to tell what to-morrow may bring 
 forth. You may regret it if you do not sleep 
 to-night." 
 
 Bridgeman shook his head with a smile. 
 
 "I'll take that risk, sir," he said. "And, if
 
 332 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 you will excuse me, I think I might say that it 
 is you who are in need of rest." 
 
 When I came to think of it I felt that Bridge- 
 man was right. The day of idle suspense had been 
 as hard for me as two days of action. I decided 
 to get a good night's rest if I could. 
 
 In the night some time I awakened suddenly from 
 what seemed to be a dreamless sleep with that curi- 
 ous tightness of the heartstrings which I had ex- 
 perienced in coming out of a nightmare. My first 
 thought was that something unusual was happen- 
 ing near me; that there were voices in the air. 
 But a moment's silent attention convinced me that 
 my impression was merely the effect of a dream 
 that I did not recall, and. I settled back among the 
 pillows to sleep again. 
 
 But I had been too thoroughly roused to sleep 
 at once, and I found that I was beset by a curious 
 apprehensiveness which, inasmuch as I could find 
 no reason for it, I tried to shake off as fanciful and 
 old womanish. But it would not leave me, and, 
 presently, with an irritated conviction that I might 
 as well put on petticoats and trailed skirts, and 
 admit myself a creature of nerves, I rose and lighted 
 the gas. 
 
 Then I knew what ailed me. I had old Somhers 
 on my mind, and was harassed with a fear that 
 after all he was going to give us the slip again 
 somehow. The logical course for him now was to 
 put a bullet in his brains, and end the melodrama 
 for him, yes; but Milbrath? What if, after 
 all, Milbrath must go on to the end of his days
 
 RUN TO EARTH 333 
 
 without the vindication that was his right go 
 on as he was going or denounce his uncle? He 
 would carry his dishonor to his grave, then, I felt 
 sure. I wondered that I had not thought of the 
 possibility of such an end to our pursuit, and I 
 anathematized myself again and again for my lack 
 of foresight and my laxness in not insisting upon 
 an interview with Somhers on the previous evening. 
 
 I found " Black Beauty " in my bag, and lighted 
 it. A few puffs put me on a better footing with 
 myself and the world. 
 
 Outside, a September gale howled like a delighted 
 banshee, and hurtled the rain in wide slaps against 
 the window panes. I lowered the gas and pulled 
 up the shade before one of the drenched windows. 
 The trees on the lawn about the house glistened in 
 the light of the city lamps, which were still burn- 
 ing, and bent and shook in the face of the wind. 
 Beyond the row of lamps that marked the edge of 
 the bluff I could not see, but the roar of the surf 
 as it pounded unceasingly against the rocks hinted 
 of the seething waters a little farther out. 
 
 Once or twice it seemed to me I caught a glimpse 
 of figures, moving about on the bluff, but I de- 
 cided it to be another evidence of my still unsteady 
 nerves. 
 
 After a time I returned to bed, and toward dawn 
 I again slept. 
 
 Soon after seven o'clock Milbrath tapped at my 
 door. He looked refreshed, and said that after 
 midnight he had rested well. I had just finished 
 dressing, so we left the room together.
 
 334 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 As our door closed behind us Bridgeman stepped 
 from his room and came toward us. He had brushed 
 and shaved and freshened his appearance with a 
 change of linen, but his face was pale and anxious. 
 
 " I 'm sorry to report it, sirs," he said, glancing 
 from one to the other of us a little nervously, " but 
 the old gentleman, Mr. La Cour, went over the 
 cliff in the night."
 
 " Mr. La Cour went over the cliff in the night." 
 Page 334.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 " THE WAGES OP SIN " 
 
 "TITILBRATH staggered forward a step and then 
 -!-*-- swayed toward me. I thought that he had 
 swooned, but he caught himself against a wall and 
 revived at once. 
 
 " What is that you said ? " he cried sharply, 
 "Mr. La Cour dead?" 
 
 Bridgeman nodded, and motioned us into his 
 room and closed the door. 
 
 " Will you have chairs and hear about it now, 
 or will you breakfast first ? " he asked. 
 
 We seated ourselves without a word. The mem- 
 ory of my midnight fears assailed me with a pang 
 so poignant that for the moment I was speechless. 
 
 " It was about one o'clock when the old man 
 opened his door suddenly and looked out," began 
 Bridgeman. " He saw me in here, and came across 
 the hall and directly into this room in a quick, 
 nervous way as if he was quite used up and at the 
 end of his tether. He had a package of papers in 
 one hand. This is it." 
 
 Bridgeman went to a bureau and took a small 
 parcel from a locked drawer and held it out un- 
 certainly. Milbrath made no move to take it, and 
 I stretched forth my hand.
 
 336 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Yes," I said mechanically. " Go on, Bridge- 
 man." 
 
 He thrust the papers before me. 
 
 " ' Take these, man/ he said. t But as you value 
 the welfare of your soul, let them get into the hands 
 of no one but Harrison Milbrath or young Bliss.' 
 Those were his exact words. Before I could 
 speak he was halfway back to his room again. I 
 never saw such a spry man for one of his years! 
 I heard the key turn in the lock of his door, and 
 then, for a little time afterward, there was quiet 
 in the house. Then I heard a window opened 
 somewhere. I can't say why the sound did n't seem 
 right to me, for it is natural enough to want air 
 in your room at night, and I was not sure the sound 
 came from across the hall. But I didn't like it 
 for some reason, and I crept across to the hall 
 window. What should I see but the old man, bare- 
 headed, out in the downpour, going down the rain 
 pipe off the porch just before my eyes. He saw 
 me, too, and gave a low cry. I was out of that 
 window and down the rain pipe almost as quick 
 as he was, and off in the direction he went. But 
 I could n't catch him. I shouted to him to be care- 
 ful of the cliff, but I knew that he knew about it 
 as well as I did, for he walked out along there 
 after we arrived in the afternoon. I guess that 's 
 about all there is to tell, sirs. The night watchman 
 heard us and came out, too, but we could n't catch 
 
 him, as I said, and then Well, we waited 
 
 for the tide to come in and it floated in with it 
 the body, sirs."
 
 "THE WAGES OF SIN" 337 
 
 So those were the figures that I fancied I saw 
 moving among the dripping tree branches as I stood 
 by the window. 
 
 "Are there many in the house who know about 
 this, Bridgeman ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not yet, sir. There are few guests in the house, 
 for the season has ended, you know. Only the 
 watchman, the landlord, and the servants knew it 
 an hour ago when I came up ; but the coroner from 
 town will be here soon." 
 
 Bridgeman hesitated. Then he went to the door 
 and looked up and down the hall. 
 
 " I 'm not supposed to know, but perhaps it is 
 best for you to be prepared for anything. There 
 was an envelope in the old man's room that the 
 landlord found and took in keeping for the cor- 
 oner, and it was addressed to ' Mr. Elmer Bliss ' 
 and the coroner will be here soon," repeated 
 Bridgeman significantly. 
 
 I saw the point. We must be prepared for any- 
 thing the coroner might ask us. Must we speak 
 the whole truth, or would that little bundle of 
 papers tell a tale that would help us ? 
 
 " Thank you, Bridgeman," I said. " You will say 
 nothing about these papers at the inquest, of course." 
 
 " Of course not, sir. Depend upon me." 
 
 Milbrath, who had not uttered a word during 
 Bridgeman's story, followed me out of the room 
 and back to our own like a mute. This hour was 
 marking an epoch in his life, and from the expres- 
 sion of his whole figure I knew that he was living 
 through it by sheer force of will. 
 
 22
 
 " We must see the contents of this parcel and 
 take our cue from here/' I cried, as soon as we were 
 alone behind closed doors. And silently I prayed 
 that we should find a loophole that would let one 
 name come through restored, and the other pass on 
 untarnished. 
 
 In the parcel there were, perhaps, a dozen sheets 
 caught together with a manuscript pin. But a 
 loose sheet on top was in fresh ink, and to it I 
 first turned my attention. 
 
 With Milbrath looking over my shoulder I read: 
 
 To Elmer Bliss, and to my nephew, Harrison Milbrath : 
 
 The time is here that I have known from the first 
 must come sooner or later, for the lassoer cannot play 
 the game that I have played and not himself be caught 
 in the noose at last. 
 
 Nevertheless, I am satisfied that it is as it is. I am an 
 old man, as deeds as well as years go, and I have caused, 
 no doubt, more than my share of earth's worries. But, 
 in this evening that you have granted me, the last that 
 I shall know, I shall make what restitution I can at 
 this late day for my greatest error, the culmination of 
 all my folly, for which God alone knows the price I 
 have paid. 
 
 There will be a note addressed to you, Mr. Bliss, 
 waiting for you on this desk where I am writing, when 
 you come to see me in the morning. It is a " confes- 
 sion," the worth of which you may appreciate when you 
 have read it. This note and a true statement of my case 
 I shall hand to your agent across the hall, to be given 
 to you when I am past the power of doing so. It is a 
 bit of biography a statement of conditions that no
 
 "THE WAGES OF SIN" 339 
 
 one now on earth ever knew to exist, and I beg you to 
 destroy it as soon as you have read it. 
 
 I do not seek commiseration I who must lie in a 
 murderer's grave but I think that even he who has 
 reason never to forgive may think less harshly of me 
 when he knows all. 
 
 As for you, Elmer Bliss, I can but compliment you 
 upon your success. You are a worthy son of a noble 
 father. You did your duty, even toward me who de- 
 served no consideration, and as a last favor I ask you 
 to deposit to your account, as soon as possible, the check 
 for $20,000 made to you and lying in trust in the Gar- 
 field Bank. 
 
 As I have said once before in a letter which you may 
 not have credited, and as I have just said again in the 
 public note to you lying here, I did not kill James 
 Arms. Much as he deserved it I am thankful that I 
 can go out as I should go, like a burned candle, without 
 that extra crime upon my soul. 
 
 And now ? Now I am Eichard La Cour. Eemember 
 only that, please Richard La Cour, homeless, friend- 
 less, without means, the slayer of Peter Somhers. The 
 " estimable Peter Somhers ! " For God's sake never let 
 the truth be known. I beg it. I who have never begged 
 before little as I deserve consideration I beg it ! I 
 who must pay the penalty for my evil in a murderer's 
 grave away from Adelaide and little Roland ! A mur- 
 derer's grave for all eternity ! 
 
 There was no signature. 
 
 " It is not probable that we shall be held or 
 searched," I said, breaking the tense silence that 
 prevailed as I finished reading. " But we must be 
 prepared for anything and we must hide these papers 
 for the present where they are not likely to be
 
 340 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 found. Here, lend a hand and we '11 rip up the 
 carpet and spread the papers out under it and be- 
 neath the bed. There's no time to read the others 
 now." 
 
 Noiselessly as possible we moved the bedstead, 
 and with our knives removed the tacks and laid 
 the papers under the carpet. Then as quietly we 
 replaced the tacks and moved the bedstead back. 
 
 And still, without an exchange of words, but by 
 tacit agreement, we left the room together.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 MILBEATH'S VINDICATION 
 
 T SUPPOSE that we breakfasted that morning, 
 -*- and I dare say we behaved, answered ques- 
 tions, and did what we had to do much as other 
 people similarly conditioned would have done, but 
 I recollect only one detail the expression of peace 
 that rested at last on the features of the old man 
 who had fled from us as we slept to make his plea 
 for leniency in the court of last resort. 
 
 Much more clearly in my memory stand out the 
 events of that other morning a week later when 
 Milbrath, having quietly taken it in charge, we laid 
 the body of " Richard La Cour " to rest as near as 
 possible to the grave of little Roland and that of 
 u Adelaide, beloved wife of Peter Somhers," in 
 peaceful Mt. Auburn. 
 
 I know that at eleven o'clock Milbrath and I, 
 answering a summons, found ourselves in a coro- 
 ner's court in the city to the north of Lyndeth. 
 
 The coroner was a man past middle life, with 
 a face that showed that he had not been insen- 
 sible to the miseries encountered in following his 
 profession. 
 
 " Mr. Elmer Bliss ? " he inquired, looking at 
 me.
 
 342 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " There is a communication here, addressed by 
 the dead man, presumably, to you. May I ask you 
 to open it and read it aloud to these gentlemen ? " 
 
 The letter was as follows: 
 
 ME. ELMER BLISS, 
 
 SIR: I am aware that you are the man who has 
 hounded me for weeks, and, necessarily, I am aware 
 why you have done it. But I will cheat the gallows. I 
 am an old man and it matters little when I go, but the 
 way of going I shall choose. 
 
 But first : 
 
 1 wish to depose and say that I, Richard La Cour, a 
 man without a home, relatives, near friends, or, at the 
 present time, means or effects save what I carry with 
 me, and a small amount in the First National Bank 
 in the city of Boston, am responsible, and alone re- 
 sponsible, for the death of Peter Somhers, of Overlook, 
 
 in Winton, state of , on October twelfth, two years 
 
 ago. 
 
 On that fateful day I joined Mr. Somhers upon his 
 request at his place in Winton, to conclude a business 
 arrangement which we had considered. I was admitted 
 by him through a side door and no one, save Mr. 
 Somhers, knew of my presence there. A quarrel arose, 
 and in a moment of anger I suppose that I struck Mr. 
 Somhers. He fell to the floor, and the bruises that he 
 sustained resulted in his speedy death. I left the house 
 unseen after nightfall and went directly to Boston. 
 Since then, until the past few months, I have spent 
 most of the time in seclusion or abroad. 
 
 I wish, also, to depose and say that James Arms, late 
 farmer of Overlook, having come into possession of
 
 MILBKATH'S VINDICATION 343 
 
 my secret, kept me reminded of my indebtedness to his 
 silence, and in that way became, by degrees, the pos- 
 sessor of nearly all that I could call my own in this 
 world's goods. On the day of his death he threatened 
 me not only with exposure, but with death if I did not 
 give him the sum of money that he demanded. High 
 words followed on both sides, and Arms stumbled on a 
 chair, and by accident, I suppose, discharged into his 
 own body a bullet that was doubtless intended for me. 
 This confession I make of my own free will to ex- 
 onerate Harrison Milbrath, who was twice tried for the 
 crime that I committed, and to free the man Horsford 
 who is charged with having killed James Arms. 
 
 (Signed) EICHAED LA Coun." 
 
 A stir of astonishment vibrated through the room. 
 There were present those who recalled the sensa- 
 tional trials of Harrison Milbrath. 
 
 " May I ask you, Mr. Bliss, to give the jury a 
 statement of your acquaintance with the signer of 
 this confession ? " It was the grave, kindly voice 
 of the coroner who spoke. 
 
 My ears were buzzing with excitement, my brain 
 in a whirl as to how I could speak without perjury, 
 yet without betraying the secret that was now mine 
 to keep. Then I found myself saying: 
 
 " I have no acquaintance with this Mr. La Cour. 
 I was engaged as a private investigator of the 
 Somhers mystery by my friend, Mr. Milbrath, and 
 came upon a clue which I followed to this end." 
 
 " Can you tell us some of the details ? " asked 
 one of the jurors, a round-eyed, expectant-looking 
 little man.
 
 344 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Is that compulsory ? " I asked with a smile. 
 " A professional man in my capacity does not enjoy 
 parting with the secret of his success." 
 
 The coroner deliberated. 
 
 " You are at liberty to say as much or as little 
 as you like on that point," he answered presently. 
 
 " Then I will say, merely, that the first hint 
 that I got of Mr. La Cour was in investigating a 
 clue which the police saw fit to drop as worthless 
 the statement of a driver named Jardine Jan- 
 dyce of Beverly who drove an elderly man to Over- 
 look on the day of the crime." 
 
 Another ripple of astonishment ran through the 
 room, and some one in the rear caused a smile by 
 his hearty recommendation to " Shoot the police ! " 
 
 I dreaded to have Milbrath called; but his ex- 
 amination was brief and of such a nature as to 
 permit him to answer in monosyllables. His ex- 
 treme paleness and agitation seemed natural enough 
 to a group of curious men who saw in him only 
 the wronged principal in a hard-fought battle for 
 his life. But the coroner remarked to him, as he 
 asked to leave the room after his examination: 
 
 " You have been under a severe mental strain, 
 my young man. Permit me, as a physician, to 
 advise you to take absolute rest now." 
 
 I resolved on the spot to engage Bridgeman as 
 leading man if ever I organized a theatrical com- 
 pany. He made a fine show of telling a great deal, 
 but not a word did he let fall of those features 
 of his case that might further involve Milbrath 
 or me.
 
 The few other witnesses called had nothing to 
 say that complicated the case, and after a brief 
 consultation with his men, the coroner decided to 
 conclude his work at once, and almost immediately 
 the jury rendered a verdict of " Suicide by drown- 
 ing when upon the point of being taken for the mur- 
 der of Peter Somhers, late of Winton . . . ." etc. 
 
 Of course the afternoon papers were full of the 
 story, the headlines of many of them appearing in 
 pyramids of descending type that referred to the 
 Somhers' mystery and its ultimate solution. I 
 found myself regarded somewhat in the light of a 
 Sherlock Holmes ; and, so unreliable is public opin- 
 ion, Milbrath came in not only for sympathy but 
 for praise! 
 
 We spent the greater part of the afternoon in 
 receiving reporters; for as I was one of them in 
 spirit, I had not the heart to deny them a good 
 story. 
 
 My own story of the case I reserved for the New 
 York Sphere, and that was meager in sensation 
 compared with the whole truth had I been able 
 to give it to the public then. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when Milbrath and I 
 found ourselves alone at last in our rooms at the 
 Chequamegon House. We had sent Bridgeman 
 home on the midday train, his pockets well lined 
 with greenbacks which Milbrath insisted that he 
 should accept from him. 
 
 Milbrath looked so exhausted that I hesitated to 
 recall the papers that lay hidden beneath the carpet. 
 But he had not forgotten them, and presently he
 
 346 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 pulled aside the bedstead and began to loosen the 
 carpet. 
 
 " We might as well know the whole truth at 
 once," he said. " But, my God, Bliss ! At what 
 a cost my good name has been bought ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE STOEY TOLD 
 
 I~T is nearly a year now since Philander Sum- 
 -- merfield met death at my hands, and, as my 
 nephew, Harrison Milbrath, is still held for the 
 crime, I am constrained to put upon paper a full 
 and truthful account of the circumstances of the 
 case, and of those that led up to it. For if Harry 
 is again condemned to die, and no loophole of es- 
 cape is made for him otherwise, I must let the 
 truth be known to the world. But it shall be only 
 upon my own death. 
 
 " The beginning of conditions that culminated 
 last year in a tragedy was as far back as '79 when 
 I lost little Roland, my seven-years-old son. No 
 one who has not been similarly placed can under- 
 stand my grief at that time, for his mother and 
 he were the only persons on earth whom I had ever 
 loved. 
 
 " As a boy I was known as imaginative, clever, 
 adaptable, but never as lovable or affectionate. As 
 a man I lived through many years of bachelorhood 
 without once feeling my heart warm or grow tender 
 for any of the comely maidens about me, many of 
 whom, no doubt, would have been glad, or willing, 
 at least, to become Mrs. Somhers for the sake of 
 the social position which my family held, and for
 
 348 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the wealth to which I was heir, if not for love of 
 the young man who was I. 
 
 " Finally, in my fortieth year I met Adelaide, 
 and for the first time knew the meaning of the 
 grand passion. We were married twelve months 
 after our first meeting, and, in the following year, 
 little Roland came. To him I was cold at first, 
 for had not his life almost cost that of my beloved 
 Adelaide ? But with his first lisping ' Dadda ' my 
 heart was won, and from that hour all that I cared 
 for in life was held in two frail forms. 
 
 " With Roland's death, then, there came an 
 apathy, an indifference to everything for a time, 
 and then reaction. 
 
 " We were stopping for the summer at the Ocean 
 Hotel in Newport, and among the guests was one 
 who laid claim to being a spiritualistic medium. 
 I believed in her at the time, but now I know that 
 she was a humbug who played upon the credulity 
 of poor, earthtied worms such as I. 
 
 " Adelaide encouraged my interest in the woman's 
 claims for she thought she saw in it an awakening 
 for me, though in looking back upon that time I 
 think that she was less credulous than I. 
 
 " Well, that was the beginning. In the next 
 few years I spent thousands of dollars upon me- 
 diums who gave me communications from my boy. 
 Then, suddenly, that structure gave way, for I 
 detected a medium in fraud. 
 
 " I had given in to a partial reconciliation to 
 our loss and I saw how I had been deluded from 
 the first. But in those years I had become a rest-
 
 THE STOKY TOLD 349 
 
 less man with a craving for the new and exciting, 
 and nothing satisfied me for long. 
 
 " Then Adelaide died quite unexpectedly after 
 a day's illness, and from the hour of her death for 
 six weeks I was a maniac in the grip of delirium. 
 
 " As soon as I was strong enough to be about 
 again, I was seized with a desire to travel, and it 
 was upon my first trip after that that I met Mr. 
 and Mrs. Bliss and their young son. There was 
 something about that lad that appealed to me. He 
 was not like my Roland, yet there was in him a 
 suggestion of the same temperament 
 
 " Very different was Harrison Milbrath, my only 
 sister's child, whom I took to live with me when 
 he became an orphan some years later. Harry's 
 incessant boyish garrulity, his hilarity, his irre- 
 sponsibility irritated me continually. I compared 
 him perpetually with Roland, and asked myself 
 over and over what justice there was in a Higher 
 Power that would take away from parents who 
 waited upon his very breathing, such a boy as 
 Roland and leave a lad like Harry, whom there 
 were none left to love. I never felt affection for 
 the boy, as I have shown, but by constantly com- 
 paring him with my Roland, I learned to hate him. 
 Yes ; hate is the word. 
 
 " I had grown irritable with age, and I found 
 satisfaction at times in making Harry suffer. To 
 such a degree can we influence the mind that after a 
 time the very sight of the boy roused a demon within 
 me a force which could be excited by no other 
 person with whom I came in contact, or ever had.
 
 350 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " About the time that Harry was left to me I 
 wearied of constant travel, and having bought Over- 
 look several years previously I settled down in 
 Winton, leaving there only when the demon of un- 
 rest again got me in his grip for a time. 
 
 " Thus the years went on up to 18 , when Harry 
 entered Harvard. Then I found, and to my as- 
 tonishment, that the habit of breaking into parox- 
 ysms of fury had become fixed, and with Harry 
 away I had no safe vent. I dared not treat an- 
 other as I had treated him; and more, I had a 
 certain pride in being regarded as a quiet man, mild 
 and genial except when irritated to the limit of 
 human endurance by the wilfulness of my nephew. 
 For I was willing enough in those days to have 
 Harry bear the brunt of my wickedness Harry 
 who was amiable and lovable, I see now. If only 
 I could have seen it then ! 
 
 " From my earliest manhood I had been inter- 
 ested in the philosophical, the psychological. My 
 own case became a study to me, therefore, and I 
 calmly traced my mania for it was nothing less 
 from its incipiency. I was convinced that I 
 could control myself, and I made an effort. 
 
 " Then I discovered a curious thing. My dual 
 self loved those exhibitions of the baser man! It 
 gloried in them! And it had gained the mastery! 
 
 " My outbursts, I found, were in the nature of 
 a seizure. There were premonitory symptoms, and 
 when these appeared I endeavored for a time to 
 ward off the attack by an effort of will. But I 
 was as if under the control of another, and there
 
 THE STOKY TOLD 351 
 
 were hours that I spent locked in my study, when 
 I would lash myself into such a fury that I am 
 certain that had any one appeared before me I 
 should have killed him with pleasure. 
 
 " To guard against such an exigency I forbade 
 any servant even to tap upon my library door when 
 it was closed. If a caller came, but that was rare, 
 he must wait until the door were opened, or come 
 again. As I was never irritable with the servants 
 or townspeople, I think that what went on behind 
 that closed door was never suspected. 
 
 " But, after a time, it became annoying always 
 to have the door of my workroom open when I was 
 not a maniac, and I conceived the notion of a hidden 
 room to which I could retire when I felt that my 
 evil genius was in the ascendency. 
 
 " Then came the idea of a passage to the gardens, 
 where I could get air after my attacks. For by 
 this time my paroxysms of insanity had grown into 
 periods which could be brought to an end only by a 
 dose of chloral (which, fortunately, I always had 
 reason enough left to take), and a sleep from which 
 I would awaken with restored mind but with body 
 utterly exhausted. A walk in the air was the only 
 thing that made me myself again, and for this rea- 
 son I wanted a concealed way from the library to 
 the gardens. 
 
 " I made the necessary plans, therefore, and 
 hired workmen from Boston, who went back and 
 forth each day between Winton and Lewis Junc- 
 tion, for I could not risk their wagging tongues in 
 Winton or Beverly, even though I had engaged each
 
 352 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 man at quadruple his usual wages only upon a 
 solemn oath that he would keep the secret of the 
 character of the work, no matter what happened, 
 throughout his life. 
 
 " I directed the work and kept away visitors dur- 
 ing its progress. My nephew was in Europe that 
 summer, and I had less difficulty in keeping my secret 
 than one would suppose. On one occasion, however, 
 some neighboring townspeople came up to the 
 grounds of an evening, and, for the first time before 
 any one but Harry, I gave vent to a demoniacal 
 irritation. I raved, but, fortunately, with mildness 
 compared to my usual attacks of mania. Never- 
 theless I think that I roused suspicion as to my 
 sanity. I certainly lost my reputation for being a 
 man of a mild temper. 
 
 " About that time there appeared that remarkable 
 bit of fiction entitled ( Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.' 
 The tale appealed to me as nothing in fiction ever 
 before had done. I read it over and over until I 
 knew it so nearly by heart that to this day I can 
 repeat much of it word for word. 
 
 " Much as my better self loathed the character 
 of Hyde, the dual man of me was fascinated by it 
 The one side of me gloated over the realization that 
 I, too, was of the same kind; the other side re- 
 garded the fact with horror. 
 
 " How much of my conduct was due is due 
 to the use of chloral, and how much is a psy- 
 chological ultimate as in the case of Hyde 
 to yielding to my baser nature, I am not prepared 
 to say, for since I began the use of the drug I have
 
 THE STOKY TOLD 353 
 
 never been able to drop it save for a short period 
 only, of which I shall write later, but about which 
 I am now able to recount but little. 
 
 " The animal in me gained no predominance, 
 owing, perhaps, to my advanced age; for I was 
 then past sixty. 
 
 " My worst evil lay in my desire to do bodily 
 harm, and in my sane moments I became haunted 
 by a fear that some time I would break from the 
 secret room (where after its completion I secluded 
 myself during these seizures), and attack some un- 
 offending person as did Hyde. When I was 
 in part my better self I still gloated with horrible 
 pleasure over the thought that I was deceiving all 
 who knew me as to my true character. 
 
 " My idea of having another to masquerade as 
 I grew out of this feeling out of the fear, rather, 
 that I would some time injure some one and my 
 better nature, which ordinarily disapproved all that 
 my dual self suggested, approved this plan. She 
 (to my imagination my better side was feminine), 
 argued that while some one was living at Overlook 
 as Peter Somhers, respectable and respected, the 
 real Peter Somhers would be in some far distant 
 land conquering the evil in him. She told me that 
 the good Peter Somhers would prevail under the 
 right influence, and money could buy that influence. 
 And, strange to relate, I looked with pleasure upon 
 being once more the self of my early manhood days. 
 
 " With the end in view of leaving Overlook for 
 an indefinite period in the hands of a substitute 
 (though the notion that I needed a substitute to 
 
 23
 
 354 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 permit me to leave was purely fanciful and an evi- 
 dence of my love of deception), I began to look 
 about for a man who resembled me in physical 
 appearance. 
 
 " After nearly a year's search in all parts of the 
 country, I came, at last, upon Philander Summer- 
 field, whose initials, even, were mine, and his name 
 similar. He was a former teacher, and ' down on 
 his luck,' as the saying goes. He answered nearly 
 every point in my requirements. In height, color- 
 ing, and shape of features he was like me. His 
 shoulders bent a trifle, but I reasoned that I could 
 appear to stoop a little when in the presence of 
 others, so that feature would become recognized in 
 me before I turned over my reins to him. His 
 voice was lighter and his manner of speech slower 
 than mine, but he was an apt pupil and soon imi- 
 tated me to perfection. His eyelids were different, 
 a trifle heavier, and his eyes were dreamier than 
 mine. But I knew that by a judicious use of color- 
 ing matters I could change my own lids so as to 
 make that feature also familiar. 
 
 " As for the rest, he was absolutely without rela- 
 tives a rare condition and one important for my 
 work, as I wanted the man who impersonated me 
 to have no communication whatever with his past 
 life. 
 
 " Being practically penniless, a would-be suicide 
 with Potter's Field in the background, he was easy 
 for me to secure. Indeed, he looked upon the mat- 
 ter as a huge joke, worthy of a place in fiction. The 
 small fortune which I agreed to pay him in con-
 
 THE STOEY TOLD 355 
 
 sideration of his services faithfully rendered, ap- 
 peared to his eyes like a princely remuneration. 
 
 " I had him call upon a number of my acquaint- 
 ances, having first primed him in everything that 
 he needed to know about me, and the acquaintances 
 were utterly deluded. On several occasions he 
 impersonated me in business transactions always 
 with success. Then we sat for photographs, which 
 came out precisely alike except for the difference in 
 the eyelids, for the camera refused to recognize the 
 make-up of mine. 
 
 " Finally we agreed upon a day when he should 
 arrive at Overlook to begin the masquerade. He 
 came, unknown to any of my household, but I had 
 been seized with a whimsical desire to delay my de- 
 parture for a time and he was obliged to return to 
 town again. He went to the Beverly station, and 
 I remember that people later spoke of having seen 
 me starting for New York on that day. 
 
 " About two weeks later I wrote Summerfield to 
 come again, and he came, letting himself in through 
 the grotto door, for I had initiated him into the 
 mysteries of my house. 
 
 " As misfortune would have it, I was in a rage 
 at the moment of his arrival. 
 
 " For a number of months past I had been (un- 
 necessarily) annoyed by Harry's attentions to the 
 granddaughter of my only close friend a young 
 girl whom I had known from her early girlhood, 
 and with whom Harry had associated during the 
 whole period of his residence in Winton. But things 
 were different when I knew that he purposed to
 
 356 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 marry her, and it enraged me to think that he dared 
 to marry any one without my consent he a de- 
 pendent still ! 
 
 " Yet my better nature knew that it was my 
 fault that Harry remained financially dependent 
 upon me. At various times since the close of his 
 college life he had declared earnestly that he wished 
 to strike out for himself, and I would taunt him 
 furiously for not doing so. But I knew that there 
 was nothing in Winton or in Beverly for a man of his 
 position and training. Moreover, in spite of the 
 hatred I believed that I still felt for the boy I could 
 not bring myself (when he was not before me) to 
 the thought of parting with him. Hence, as regu- 
 larly as he declared that he would leave me, just 
 so regularly would I write a note which I left at 
 his place at the table or upon the dresser in his 
 room, imploring him to forgive me and remain 
 with me. 
 
 " But on this day, the 12th of October, when 
 Philander Summerfield arrived in Winton for the 
 second time, my customary quarrel with Harry had 
 resulted in his immediate departure. He re- 
 turned to the house soon after noon and I alone saw 
 him enter. When, therefore, I saw him leave the 
 house again, this time carrying a suitcase, I knew 
 that he had been to his room and must have seen 
 the note that I had left there for him. So I crept 
 up there with a feeling that he had left an an- 
 swer, a feeling that was confirmed, though never 
 before had I known him to answer me as he did that 
 day.
 
 THE STORY TOLD 357 
 
 " On the blank side of the paper which bore my 
 note to him he had written : 
 
 " ' I have listened to your pleadings in the past 
 only to find that you were playing with me. As I 
 told you this morning, when I have accomplished 
 something of which you may be proud if that 
 time ever comes I will return to Overlook and to 
 you. 
 
 " * Until then, accept my thanks for having given 
 me the education with which to face the world.' 
 
 " No words can describe the intensity of my pas- 
 sion as I read those words. My first thought was 
 to dash myself from the bluff; my second to live 
 and make Harry suffer. How, I did not at the 
 moment know, but suffer he should! 
 
 " Just as I returned to my secret room Philander 
 Summerfield arrived. 
 
 " I have mentioned that I always feared a human 
 presence at the time of one of these seizures, and 
 here was Summerfield! 
 
 "As it happened, my attacks had been milder 
 for a few months, perhaps because Harry acted as 
 a sort of safety valve. At all events, my quarrel 
 with him that day had spent my passion to such an 
 extent that on sight of Summerfield my better self 
 was able to assert herself for a time, and we trans- 
 acted some final business connected with the im- 
 personation that he was about to begin. 
 
 " Suddenly, however, I felt the demon in me 
 again rising to the surface. I implored Summer- 
 field to leave the room, but either he misunder- 
 stood me or thought by remaining to help me some-
 
 358 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 how for he did not know the creature I became 
 at times. 
 
 " I do not know what happened next. All I rec- 
 ollect is that I reached for a bottle of chloral and 
 
 then Perhaps I struck him and he fell ; it 
 
 may be that we wrestled and I threw him; or I 
 may have tripped him as he came to me. I do not 
 know. But there he lay, I saw presently, the blood 
 from a wound in his temple spurting over the floor. 
 Even to-day you can see the stain of that blood on 
 the carpet and the floor of the secret room if you 
 will move the rug that I threw over it 
 
 " This unexpected turn of affairs sobered me 
 instantly. My better self returned with a shock of 
 horror. What had I done? That which I had 
 most feared would happen some time. I had taken 
 a human life, for Summerfield was quite dead when 
 I bent over him and tried to find his pulse. And 
 more, I had killed the very one who, because of his 
 striking resemblance to me, I believed the one to 
 help me defeat the evil of my dual self. 
 
 " Then the gravity of my deed from a legal out- 
 look bore in upon my mind. I, Peter Somhers, to 
 die on the gallows or stand trial, even, for having 
 taken a life ? Never ! I would dispose of the body 
 of my victim and go on with life as before. Who 
 was there to question where Philander Summerfield 
 had gone ? Who so much as to dream that Peter 
 Somhers was a murderer ? 
 
 " But the devil in me was whispering again : 
 ' Change your identity,' it said. ' Be Philander 
 Summerfield, and with your new name, take upon
 
 THE STOKY TOLD 359 
 
 yourself a new way of thinking and of living. Who 
 is to prove that you are not he ? Leave that stiffening 
 body there to be called Peter Somhers, and to the 
 mould of the grave ; and listen ! Here is your op- 
 portunity to revenge yourself upon Harry to 
 make him suffer as you want to see him suffer ; for 
 who but Harrison Milbrath would kill Peter 
 Somhers ? ' 
 
 " Needless to say, I yielded to the demon. Within 
 half an hour I had dragged the body of Philander 
 Summerfield to the couch in the library, and had 
 transferred my signet ring to his cold finger. I did 
 not realize that I had brought that piece of oilcloth 
 from the secret room and put it beneath his head. 
 I did not know it until I read, long afterward, that 
 it was found there. And then I laughed. Yes; 
 laughed! 
 
 " By that time the chloral that I had taken began 
 to take effect upon my system, and in the seclusion 
 of the secret room I slept for hours. 
 
 " When I awoke there were sounds of excitement 
 in the library ; for the body had been found. 
 
 " I had meant to get away before that event, and 
 I worked myself into an ecstasy of terror lest I be 
 discovered when I tried to leave the place. 
 
 " For nearly a fortnight I remained in the little 
 room, making my plans for the immediate future, 
 endeavoring (fool that I was) to imitate the hand- 
 writing of Philander Summerfield, and playing soli- 
 taire night and day, night and day. Of the past I 
 dared not think, into the future I could take but 
 one glance. But it is of interest to record that not
 
 360 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 once in those two weeks did a paroxysm of mania 
 come upon me. 
 
 " I subsisted on what I could poach from the 
 larder in the dead of night, for I dared not venture 
 out upon the roads at that time, when every stranger 
 was under suspicion. My beard grew, and in it 
 I found an extraordinary disguise. When I reached 
 Boston I breathed freely for the first time in two 
 weeks. 
 
 " My first act as a free man (oh, the humor of 
 Fate ! ) was to enter a private asylum for the insane. 
 
 " ( To argue one's self mad is to prove one's self 
 sane,' the head physician told me when I applied 
 for treatment. But before I had been long with 
 him I think he may have strengthened his axiom 
 by the addition of the adverb ' sometimes.' 
 
 " For days at a time, after they took the chloral 
 from me, I remained a raving maniac, and for a 
 long time afterward I was too exhausted to 
 think much of my past or care whether I lived or 
 died. 
 
 " After a time, however, those phases of my dis- 
 order passed, and I found myself slowly gaining 
 strength, both in mind and body. 
 
 " For nearly a year as Albert Emerson (a name 
 that I had assumed when I was looking for a man 
 to impersonate me) I remained under the protecting 
 roof of the sanitarium caring little, or nothing, for 
 what was going on in the world outside. Then, one 
 day, there came a desire to know how the death of 
 Peter Somhers had been received, and what had 
 become of Harry.
 
 THE STORY TOLD 361 
 
 " I gained my release, and came back six weeks 
 ago into the rush and distraction of life. 
 
 " Then I read the papers and what stacks of 
 back numbers I bought ! and through them I 
 learned of Harry's arrest, and eagerly I followed 
 his trial. Eagerly? Yes; but sometimes with a 
 depression too acute for expression. 
 
 " Heaven alone knows the mixture of exultation 
 and remorse with which my mind greeted the ver- 
 dict of his first trial ! Fifty times since then I have 
 been on the point of giving my confession into the 
 hands of some trusty person and destroying myself. 
 But each time the demon of egotism has restrained 
 me. 
 
 " And now I await another verdict which will 
 mean a continuance of life for the boy, or death in 
 a felon's cap unless I save him ! After all, 
 considering what I was to him he was a good boy 
 to me. Why should I not save him? Good God! 
 Why do I wish to live ! For what do I live now ? 
 I have, indeed, sold my birthright for ' a mess of 
 pottage ' which turns to dust and ashes between my 
 lips! 
 
 " July 14th. Freed ! Harry a free man ! And 
 I may still live ! For what ? Heaven alone knows 
 
 but life is sweet. 
 
 "July 19th, 18 (a year later). For a year 
 have I, Philander Summerfield, been traveling and 
 trying to forget. But there is no oblivion for me 
 except in the chloral for I have gone back to it 
 
 to forget!
 
 362 THE SNARE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " A harassing fear haunts me that in a moment 
 of madness I shall betray my secret. Then, again, 
 there is Harry. Poor Harry! Sometimes in the 
 night I awaken with his name upon my lips. 
 
 " I am tired of life. I long to exonerate Harry. 
 I must do it, but I cannot give myself up to the 
 police. Never that ! A moment's time I must have 
 to prepare things for the end and then ! I shall 
 engage some one to hunt me down. There will, 
 perhaps, be diversion for me in that; and again, 
 I shall know when it is time to prepare. For a long 
 time I have known who will be my Nemesis, if he 
 will take the case, though as yet I have not learned 
 his name. He is the man who wrote the best thing 
 that I have read in connection with the case my 
 case ! I will give him a fortune to get me if he 
 can. And he will ! Others have failed ? Yes ; but 
 he will not. Ha ! ha ! What a novelty to detect 
 one's self! Truly, it is worthy of a madman. For 
 I am still mad. Not in paroxysms as before, but 
 mad. 
 
 " Of late I have been possessed of a desire to visit 
 Overlook. It is easy going from the Winton station 
 through the trail that Harry made. Poor Harry! 
 Ah ! If only I might speak with you again, face to 
 face ! I would be kind now ! 
 
 " Last week I was discovered by Arms. Curse 
 that man! Of course he knew me. Men of his 
 calibre have one faculty so abnormal as to appear 
 like a gift, and his is a memory for faces and figures, 
 for the expression of face, carriage, body all the 
 trifling individualities that make up a personality
 
 THE STORY TOLD 363 
 
 and are never combined precisely the same in two 
 bodies. He alone of all the world came, years ago, 
 to know my shortcomings; and because of his 
 knowledge I added a codicil in his favor to my will, 
 kept him on at Overlook, and countenanced things 
 that make my blood boil even now to recall. 
 
 " But he has me in his power now, and he knows 
 it. I recognize that his ready promise to keep my 
 secret and give me food and shelter at his cottage 
 when I want it, is actuated by no impulse more 
 noble than a fear that if he betrays me I will keep 
 my oath to cut him out of all that he acquired 
 through my supposed death, and, likewise, a desire 
 to get more from me from time to time. 
 
 " Last evening as I crept about the grounds of 
 my lovely silent Overlook, I caught a glimpse of 
 Chaunoey McClure standing by his own gate. The 
 impulse grew strong in me to go to him and un- 
 burden my soul, throwing myself upon his generous 
 protection for he would never betray me. But, 
 as he looked up in my direction, and I realized that 
 against the sunset's afterglow my figure was clearly 
 discernible, a spasm of fear gripped me and I 
 dropped to the ground and crawled, snakewise 
 (oh, the degradation of it!), to a place beyond his 
 line of vision. Then I took to my feet and ran, 
 never pausing until within the sheltering walls of 
 Arms' cottage. Such it is to be an outcast among 
 men! 
 
 " August 16th. At last I have gone a step farther. 
 I have engaged that man. And who does he prove 
 to be but the son of John. Bliss, that child, grown
 
 364 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 to man's estate, who reminded me of my Roland! 
 Ah ! The bitter, bitter irony of Fate ! 
 
 " August 24th. There is no peace upon earth 
 for such as I no love in all the world. Not long 
 since in my contemptible self-complacency I ac- 
 cepted as my birthright the preferment of my fel- 
 low men, too often, nevertheless, secretly scorning 
 their tacit pleas for friendship. Now I would sacri- 
 fice all that once seemed to me to be the essence of 
 life : family, culture, education, wealth, for a single 
 tender word from one, however humble, who truly 
 cared for me. Sometimes, when the thought of 
 what I have become, carries me beyond all bounds 
 of control, I cry aloud in my agony, terrifying those 
 who hear me, and, aye, striking fear to my own 
 heart, even. 
 
 " Last evening I ventured again through the de- 
 serted lower rooms at Overlook, and memories of 
 the past and horror of the miserable present grew 
 too great for me to bear. That I shrieked I am 
 aware, but of what directly followed, as in other 
 instances, I have no knowledge. I must have fled 
 to the secret room, for presently I found myself 
 there, cold and shivering with the fear of detection. 
 God have pity on such as I ! 
 
 " September 14th. Perdition would be rest com- 
 pared with this life for me. Oh, the torture of it ! 
 I, Peter Somhers, hounded from place to place! 
 They are on my track, that young Bliss and Harry. 
 They have discovered the secret room and its con- 
 tents, which I should have destroyed, and they 
 know now who left those insane warnings. Insane ?
 
 THE STORY TOLD 365 
 
 Yes; for I hoped through them to gain, after all, 
 a lease on life. But they have proved my undoing 
 they and that last quarrel with Arms. I did not 
 kill Arms, though. My soul is clean of that stain, 
 if stain it would be to send back to earth that worm 
 of the soil ! He had my revolver my only friend 
 which was to stand by me as Chauncey McClure 
 (ah, yes! he is another friend, thank God!) said 
 that one must in time of need, and he had all my 
 
 money and wanted more. Then he stumbled 
 
 And I hid all the day in the woods and at nightfall 
 sought Chauncey McClure. Poor Chauncey Mc- 
 Clure ! I can see him yet as he looked then when 
 he knew, and I curse this miserable, selfish life of 
 mine which has brought so much pain and distress 
 into the world! The pity of it! Aye! Strange 
 though it be I can feel pity now for the sufferings 
 of others. Thus, for Harry's sake at last I am will- 
 ing to pass on by my own deed to my punishment 
 and leave him to the vindication that he deserves. 
 Poor Harry! Yet, if the world knows not of the 
 disgrace to the name of Somhers what need I 
 care ? Ah ! I fear what may come ! The teachings 
 of my childhood return to mock me. And I fear 
 
 Fear? What? Nothing in the hereafter 
 
 can be worse than this life now and there may 
 be rest and peace " 
 
 The clocks in the city to the north of us were 
 striking six as I finished reading. I had been 
 glancing from time to time at Milbrath, whose
 
 366 THE SNAKE OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 face had changed at last from its dull apathy to a 
 picture of expression, now tender, now hardening; 
 and now the tears welled between his eyelids, and 
 he laid his head upon his folded arms upon the 
 table and sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Poor uncle ! " he muttered. " Poor uncle ! 
 After all, he was his own worst enemy, and I have 
 not suffered so much as he ! " 
 
 I had not the sympathy of kinship which in- 
 fluenced Milbrath, and at that moment I could feel 
 no tenderness for the old villain who had made a 
 trusting young man his scapegoat. 
 
 " Come," I said, with my hands upon Milbrath's 
 shoulder. " Let us freshen up a bit and get away 
 from here to-night into a different atmosphere." 
 
 Milbrath made no answer. He sat up with his 
 chin in his hands, his eyes staring straight before 
 him. 
 
 "You can't see things in their true lights now, 
 lad," I continued. " Better not try. By and by the 
 perspective will be clearer and you will appreciate 
 not only that we have much to be thankful for that 
 our secret remains ours only, but that no more satis- 
 factory ending was ever realized from so sorry a 
 beginning. Moreover, Milbrath. Think of what 
 complete exoneration means to you. The hour that 
 you have dreamed of and prayed for has come, and 
 you are free to acknowledge as yours the little girl 
 who, to respect your wish, has been denied her 
 right to comfort you these two years, and who is 
 waiting for you there in Winton. Come." 
 
 Milbrath rose resolutely and grasped my hand
 
 THE STORY TOLD 367 
 
 in a hearty grip. I knew, then, that though only 
 time, that merciful mellower, could soften the mem- 
 ory of recent events and make them endurable to 
 him, yet his brave, sweet character had risen to 
 the demands of the present, and that a beginning 
 had been made. 
 
 THE END
 
 Mr. Oppenheim s Latest Novel 
 
 THE ILLUSTRIOUS 
 PRINCE 
 
 By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM 
 
 Illustrated by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50 
 
 Mr. Oppenheim's new story is a narrative of mystery 
 and international intrigue that carries the reader breath- 
 less from page to page. It is the tale of the secret and 
 world-startling methods employed by the Emperor of 
 Japan through Prince Maiyo, his close kinsman, to ascer- 
 tain the real reasons for the around-the- world cruise of the 
 American fleet. The American Ambassador in London 
 and the Duke of Denvenham, an influential Englishman, 
 work hand in hand to circumvent the Oriental plot, which 
 proceeds mysteriously to the last page. From the time 
 when Mr. Hamilton Fynes steps from the Lusitania into a 
 special tug, in his mad rush towards London, to the very 
 end, the reader is carried from deep mystery to tense 
 situations, until finally the explanation is reached in a 
 most unexpected and unusual climax. 
 
 No man of this generation has so much facility of ex- 
 pression, so many technical resources, or so fine a power 
 of narration as Mr. E. Phillips Oppenheim. Philadelphia 
 Inquirer. 
 
 Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of construct- 
 ing ingenious plots and weaving them around attractive 
 characters. London Morning Post. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 By the Author of " The Kingdom of Earth " 
 
 PASSERS-BY 
 
 % ANTHONY PARTRIDGE 
 
 With illustrations by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50 
 
 This new novel by Anthony Partridge, whose absorbing 
 romance, "The Kingdom of Earth," met with instant favor, 
 has London for its scene. But when you have read it 
 you will admit that real London, as well as imaginary 
 Bergeland, is a source of fascinating romance. 
 
 The heroine of " Passers-By " is a street singer, Christine, 
 who comes to London accompanied by Ambrose Drake, 
 a hunchback, with a piano and a monkey. The fortunes 
 of these two are strangely linked with those of an Eng- 
 lish statesman, the Marquis of Ellingham, who in his 
 youth has led a wild and criminal career in Paris as the 
 leader of a band of thieves and gamblers, the Black Foxes. 
 Here is the material for a thrilling tale in which mystery 
 breeds adventure and culminates in love. 
 
 The first chapter plunges the reader into an interest- 
 compelling maze of events, and the attention is held to 
 the end by a series of dramatic situations and surprises. 
 
 Mr. Partridge is now reckoned among the favorite novel- 
 ists of the day. His first book was " The Distributors," 
 the story of a great London mystery. Then came "The 
 Kingdom of Earth," one of the popular novels of 1909. 
 "Passers-By" is his third book. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 A Swiftly Moving Mystery Story 
 
 THE RED SYMBOL 
 
 By JOHN IRONSIDE 
 Illustrations by F. C. Yohn. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 
 
 Here is a tale of love, mystery, and adventure, that 
 opens with a rush and holds the interest unflagging to 
 the end. If you like a stirring love story, prepare to be 
 fascinated by the charming but baffling heroine ; if you 
 enjoy an absorbing mystery, be ready to cudgel your 
 brains over a perplexing one ; if you care for adventures 
 that thrill, follow Maurice Wynn through the mad whirl 
 of events that befall him when he goes to Russia and 
 becomes involved with a secret society of Nihilists. 
 Better yet, if you 're fond of a rattling good yarn, one 
 which combines all three elements, love, mystery, and 
 action, in just the right proportions, take up " The Red 
 Symbol," and when you have turned the last page, with 
 nerves all tingling, you will regret that you 're not just 
 starting. 
 
 This swiftly moving narrative promises to be one of the 
 most popular novels of 1910. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 " A howling success " 
 
 AN AMERICAN BABY 
 ABROAD 
 
 By MRS. CHARLES N. CREWDSON 
 
 Illustrations by R. F. Outcault and Modest Stein 
 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 
 
 When the American baby's mother hurries off from 
 London to Egypt, where her husband is ill with fever, 
 the baby, in company with its colored nurse and a friend 
 of its mother's, follows more leisurely. The trio stop 
 at Oberammergau to see the Passion Play, in Rome to 
 witness a special mass conducted by Pope Leo, in a 
 word, do more or less sightseeing, until they finally 
 reach Cairo, where much more exciting events befall 
 them. The description of the places they visit is en- 
 hanced by a pleasant vein of humor, and an attractive 
 love episode sustains the interest. It is an extremely 
 entertaining story, light and vivacious, with brisk dia- 
 logue and diverting situations just the book for summer 
 reading. 
 
 A series of characteristic pictures, by the well-known 
 artist, Mr. R. F. Outcault, and Modest Stein gives addi- 
 tional charm to the volume. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 A 000 051 687 2