I would not let him drive me away, so I sat still,
and it grew darker and colder. He filled his
pipe now and then, but he never looked in my direction.
Finally, however, as it grew very dusk, he knocked
the ashes out and came toward me.
“I am going to make a request, Miss McNair,”
he said evenly. “Please keep off the roof
after sunset. There are—reasons.”
I had risen and was preparing to go downstairs.
“Unless I know the reasons, I refuse to do anything
of the kind,” I retorted. He bowed.
“Then the door will be kept locked,” he
rejoined, and opened it for me. He did not follow
me, but stood watching until I was down, and I heard
him close the roof door firmly behind me.
Late that evening Betty Mercer and Dallas were writing
verses of condolence to be signed by all of us and
put under the door into Jim’s room when Bella
came running down the stairs.
Dal was reading the first verse when she came.
“Listen to this, Bella,” he said triumphantly:
“There was a fat artist
named Jas,
Who cruelly called his
friends nas.
When, altho’ shut
up tight,
He broke out over night
With a rash that is
maddening, he clas.”
Then he caught sight of Bella’s face as she
stood in the doorway, and stopped.
“Jim is delirious!” she announced tragically.
“You shut him in there all alone and now he’s
delirious. I’ll never forgive any of you.”
“Delirious!” everybody exclaimed.
“He was sane enough when I took him his chicken
broth,” Mr. Harbison said. “He was
almost fluent.”
“He is stark, staring crazy,” Bella insisted
hysterically. “I—I locked the
door carefully when I went down to my dinner, and when
I came up it—it was unlocked, and Jim was
babbling on the bed, with a sheet over his face.
He—he says the house is haunted and he
wants all the men to come up and sit in the room with
him.”
“Not on your life,” Max said. “I
am young, and my career has only begun. I don’t
intend to be cut off in the flower of my youth.
But I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll
take him a drink. I can tie it to a pole or something.”
But Mr. Harbison did not smile. He was thoughtful
for a minute. Then:
“I don’t believe he is delirious,”
he said quietly, “and I wouldn’t be surprised
if he has happened on something that—will
be of general interest. I think I will stay with
him tonight.”
After that, of course, none of the others would confess
that he was afraid, so with the South American leading,
they all went upstairs. The women of the party
sat on the lower steps and listened, but everything
was quiet. Now and then we could hear the sound
of voices, and after a while there was a rapid slamming
of doors and the sound of some one running down to
the second floor. Then quiet again.
