All that time I knew, too, from what I heard said
in the house that my father’s murderer had never
been caught, and that nobody even knew who he was,
or anything definite about him. The police gave
him up as an uncaught criminal. He was still
at large, and might always be so. I knew this
from vague hints and from vague hints alone; for whenever
I tried to ask, I was hushed up at once with an air
of authority.
“Una, dearest,” Aunt Emma would say, in
her quiet fashion, “you mustn’t talk about
that night. I have Dr. Wade’s strict orders
that nothing must be said to you about it, and above
all nothing that could in any way excite or arouse
you.”
So I was fain to keep my peace; for though Aunt Emma
was kind, she ruled me still in all things like a
little girl, as I was when I came to her.
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
One morning, after I’d been four whole years
at Aunt Emma’s, I heard a ring at the bell,
and, looking over the stairs, saw a tall and handsome
man in a semi-military coat, who asked in a most audible
voice for Miss Callingham.
Maria, the housemaid, hesitated a moment.
“Miss Callingham’s in, sir,” she
answered in a somewhat dubious tone; “but I
don’t know whether I ought to let you see her
or not. My mistress is out; and I’ve strict
orders that no strangers are to call on Miss Callingham
when her aunt’s not here.”
And she held the door ajar in her hand undecidedly.
The tall man smiled, and seemed to me to slip a coin
quietly into Maria’s palm.
“So much the better,” he answered, with
unobtrusive persistence; “I thought Miss Moore
was out. That’s just why I’ve come.
I’m an officer from Scotland Yard, and I want
to see Miss Callingham—alone—most
particularly.”
Maria drew herself up and paused.
My heart stood still within me at this chance of enlightenment.
I guessed what he meant; so I called over the stairs
to her, in a tremor of excitement:
“Show the gentleman into the drawing-room, Maria.
I ’ll come down to him at once.”
For I was dying to know the explanation of the Picture
that haunted me so persistently; and as nobody at
home would ever tell me anything worth knowing about
it, I thought this was as good an opportunity as I
could get for making a beginning towards the solution
of the mystery.
Well, I ran into my own room as quick as quick could
be, and set my front hair straight, and slipped on
a hat and jacket (for I was in my morning dress),
and then went down to the drawing-room to see the
Inspector.
He rose as I entered. He was a gentleman, I felt
at once. His manner was as deferential, as kind,
and as considerate to my sensitiveness, as anything
it’s possible for you to imagine in anyone.
