The Voice in the Fog

When the constellation, which was not included among the accepted

theories of Copernicus, passed away, Haggerty sat up and rubbed the

swelling over his ear, tenderly yet grimly. Next, he felt about the

floor for his pocket-lamp. A strange spicy dust drifted into his nose

and throat, making him sneeze and cough. A mummy had reposed in the

overturned cartonnage and the brittle bindings had crumbled into

powder. He soon found the lamp, and sent its point of vivid white

light here and there about the large room.

Pursuit of his assailant was out of the question. Haggerty was not

only hard of head but shrewd. So he set about the accomplishment of

the second best course, that of minute and particular investigation.

Some one had entered this deserted house: for what? This, Haggerty

must find out. He was fairly confident that the intruder did not know

who had challenged him; on the other hand, there might be lying around

some clue to the stranger's identity.

Was there light in the house, fluid in the wires? If so he would be

saved the annoyance of exploring the house by the rather futile aid of

the pocket-lamp, which stood in need of a fresh battery. He searched

for the light-button and pressed it, hopefully. The room, with all its

brilliantly decorated antiquities, older than Rome, older than Greece,

blinded Haggerty for a space.

"Ain't that like these book chaps?" Haggerty murmured. "T' go away

without turning off th' meter!"

The first thing Haggerty did was to scrutinize the desk which stood

near the center of the room. A film of dust lay upon it. Not a mark

anywhere. In fact, a quarter of an hour's examination proved to

Haggerty's mind that nothing in this room had been disturbed except the

poor old mummy. He concluded to leave that gruesome object where it

lay. Nobody but Crawford would know how to put him back in his box,

poor devil. Haggerty wondered if, after a thousand years, some one

would dig him up!

Through all the rooms on this floor he prowled, but found nothing. He

then turned his attention to the flight of stairs which led to the

servants' quarters. Upon the newel-post lay the fresh imprint of a

hand. Haggerty went up the stairs in bounds. There were nine rooms on

this floor, two connecting with baths. In one of these latter rooms he

saw a trunk, opened, its contents carelessly scattered about the floor.

One by one he examined the garments, his heart beating quickly. Not a

particle of dust on them; plenty of finger-prints on the trunk. It had

been opened this very night--by one familiar, either at first-hand or

by instruction. He had come for something in that trunk. What?