The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive
scale. Wherever possible, on the first floor,
the architect had done away with partitions, using
arches and columns instead. The effect was cool
and spacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and
I went from one window to another, our voices echoed
back at us uncomfortably. There was plenty of
light—the electric plant down in the village
supplied us—but there were long vistas of
polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us from
unexpected corners, until I felt some of Liddy’s
foolishness communicate itself to me.
The house was very long, a rectangle in general form,
with the main entrance in the center of the long side.
The brick-paved entry opened into a short hall to
the right of which, separated only by a row of pillars,
was a huge living-room. Beyond that was the
drawing-room, and in the end, the billiard-room.
Off the billiard-room, in the extreme right wing,
was a den, or card-room, with a small hall opening
on the east veranda, and from there went up a narrow
circular staircase. Halsey had pointed it out
with delight.
“Just look, Aunt Rachel,” he said with
a flourish. “The architect that put up
this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold
Armstrong and his friends could sit here and play cards
all night and stumble up to bed in the early morning,
without having the family send in a police call.”
Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned
on all the lights. I tried the small entry door
there, which opened on the veranda, and examined the
windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a
little less nervous now, had just pointed out to me
the disgracefully dusty condition of the hard-wood
floor, when suddenly the lights went out. We
waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright,
or she would have screamed. And then I clutched
her by the arm and pointed to one of the windows opening
on the porch. The sudden change threw the window
into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed
us a figure standing close, peering in. As I
looked it darted across the veranda and out of sight
in the darkness.
CHAPTER II
A LINK CUFF-BUTTON
Liddy’s knees seemed to give away under her.
Without a sound she sank down, leaving me staring
at the window in petrified amazement. Liddy
began to moan under her breath, and in my excitement
I reached down and shook her.
“Stop it,” I whispered. “It’s
only a woman—maybe a maid of the Armstrongs’.
Get up and help me find the door.” She
groaned again. “Very well,” I said,
“then I’ll have to leave you here.
I’m going.”
She moved at that, and, holding to my sleeve, we felt
our way, with numerous collisions, to the billiard-room,
and from there to the drawing-room. The lights
came on then, and, with the long French windows unshuttered,
I had a creepy feeling that each one sheltered a peering
face. In fact, in the light of what happened
afterward, I am pretty certain we were under surveillance
during the entire ghostly evening. We hurried
over the rest of the locking-up and got upstairs as
quickly as we could. I left the lights all on,
and our footsteps echoed cavernously. Liddy
had a stiff neck the next morning, from looking back
over her shoulder, and she refused to go to bed.
