“I knew it would be a veiled lady,” I broke in.

“A veiled lady,” he persisted, “who was apparently young and beautiful, engaged his hack and asked to be driven to Sunnyside.  Near the gate, however, she made him stop, in spite of his remonstrances, saying she preferred to walk to the house.  She paid him, and he left her there.  Now, Miss Innes, you had no such visitor, I believe?”

“None,” I said decidedly.

“Geist thought it might be a maid, as you had got a supply that day.  But he said her getting out near the gate puzzled him.  Anyhow, we have now one veiled lady, who, with the ghostly intruder of Friday night, makes two assets that I hardly know what to do with.”

“It is mystifying,” I admitted, “although I can think of one possible explanation.  The path from the Greenwood Club to the village enters the road near the lodge gate.  A woman who wished to reach the Country Club, unperceived, might choose such a method.  There are plenty of women there.”

I think this gave him something to ponder, for in a short time he said good night and left.  But I myself was far from satisfied.  I was determined, however, on one thing.  If my suspicions—­for I had suspicions—­were true, I would make my own investigations, and Mr. Jamieson should learn only what was good for him to know.

We went back to the house, and Gertrude, who was more like herself since her talk with Halsey, sat down at the mahogany desk in the living-room to write a letter.  Halsey prowled up and down the entire east wing, now in the card-room, now in the billiard-room, and now and then blowing his clouds of tobacco smoke among the pink and gold hangings of the drawing-room.  After a little I joined him in the billiard-room, and together we went over the details of the discovery of the body.

The card-room was quite dark.  Where we sat, in the billiard-room, only one of the side brackets was lighted, and we spoke in subdued tones, as the hour and the subject seemed to demand.  When I spoke of the figure Liddy and I had seen on the porch through the card-room window Friday night, Halsey sauntered into the darkened room, and together we stood there, much as Liddy and I had done that other night.

The window was the same grayish rectangle in the blackness as before.  A few feet away in the hall was the spot where the body of Arnold Armstrong had been found.  I was a bit nervous, and I put my hand on Halsey’s sleeve.  Suddenly, from the top of the staircase above us came the sound of a cautious footstep.  At first I was not sure, but Halsey’s attitude told me he had heard and was listening.  The step, slow, measured, infinitely cautious, was nearer now.  Halsey tried to loosen my fingers, but I was in a paralysis of fright.

The swish of a body against the curving rail, as if for guidance, was plain enough, and now whoever it was had reached the foot of the staircase and had caught a glimpse of our rigid silhouettes against the billiard-room doorway.  Halsey threw me off then and strode forward.