"Bates!"-I found him busy replenishing the candlesticks

in the library,-it seemed to me that he was always

poking about with an armful of candles,-"there

are a good many queer things in this world, but I guess

you're one of the queerest. I don't mind telling you

that there are times when I think you a thoroughly bad

lot, and then again I question my judgment and don't

give you credit for being much more than a doddering

fool."

He was standing on a ladder beneath the great crystal

chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling,

and looked down upon me with that patient injury

that is so appealing in a dog-in, say, the eyes of an

Irish setter, when you accidentally step on his tail.

That look is heartbreaking in a setter, but, seen in a

man, it arouses the direst homicidal feelings of which

I am capable.

"Yes, Mr. Glenarm," he replied humbly.

"Now, I want you to grasp this idea that I'm going

to dig into this old shell top and bottom; I'm going

to blow it up with dynamite, if I please; and if I catch

you spying on me or reporting my doings to my enemies,

or engaging in any questionable performances

whatever, I'll hang you between the posts out there in

the school-wall-do you understand?-so that the sweet

Sisters of St. Agatha and the dear little school-girls

and the chaplain and all the rest will shudder through

all their lives at the very thought of you."

"Certainly, Mr. Glenarm,"-and his tone was the

same he would have used if I had asked him to pass

me the matches, and under my breath I consigned him

to the harshest tortures of the fiery pit.

"Now, as to Morgan-"

"Yes, sir."

"What possible business do you suppose he has with

Mr. Pickering?" I demanded.

"Why, sir, that's clear enough. Mr. Pickering owns

a house up the lake,-he got it through your grandfather.

Morgan has the care of it, sir."

"Very plausible, indeed!"-and I sent him off to his

work.

After luncheon I went below and directly to the end

of the corridor, and began to sound the walls. To the

eye they were all alike, being of cement, and substantial

enough. Through the area window I saw the solid earth

and snow; surely there was little here to base hope upon,

and my wonder grew at the ease with which Morgan

had vanished through a barred window and into frozen

ground.

The walls at the end of the passage were as solid as

rock, and they responded dully to the stroke of the

hammer. I sounded them on both sides, retracing my

steps to the stairway, becoming more and more impatient

at my ill-luck or stupidity. There was every reason

why I should know my own house, and yet a stranger

and an outlaw ran through it with amazing daring.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024