In an hour or so they sent for Flannigan, and he went upstairs. He came

down again soon, however, and returned with something over his arm that

looked like a rope. It seemed to be made of all kinds of things tied

together, trunk straps, clothesline, bed sheets, and something that

Flannigan pointed to with rage and said he hadn't been able to keep his

clothes on all day. He refused to explain further, however, and trailed

the nondescript article up the stairs. We could only gaze after him and

wonder what it all meant.

The conclave lasted far into the night. The feminine contingent went to

bed, but not to sleep. Some time after midnight, Mr. Harbison and Max

went downstairs and I could hear them rattling around testing windows

and burglar alarms. But finally every one settled down and the rest of

the night was quiet.

Betty Mercer came into my room the next morning, Sunday, and said Anne

Brown wanted me. I went over at once, and Anne was sitting up in bed,

crying. Dal had slipped out of the room at daylight, she said, and

hadn't come back. He had thought she was asleep, but she wasn't, and

she knew he was dead, for nothing ever made Dal get up on Sunday before

noon.

There was no one moving in the house, and I hardly knew what to do. It

was Betty who said she would go up and rouse Mr. Harbison and Max, who

had taken Jim's place in the studio. She started out bravely enough, but

in a minute we heard her flying back. Anne grew perfectly white.

"He's lying on the upper stairs!" Betty cried, and we all ran out. It

was quite true. Dal was lying on the stairs in a bathrobe, with one of

Jim's Indian war clubs in his hand. And he was sound asleep.

He looked somewhat embarrassed when he roused and saw us standing

around. He said he was going to play a practical joke on somebody

and fell asleep in the middle of it. And Anne said he wasn't even an

intelligent liar, and went back to bed in a temper. But Betty came in

with me, and we sat and looked at each other and didn't say much. The

situation was beyond us.

The doctor let Jim out the next day, there having been nothing the

matter with him but a stomach rash. But Jim was changed; he mooned

around Bella, of course, as before, but he was abstracted at times, and

all that day--Sunday--he wandered off by himself, and one would come

across him unexpectedly in the basement or along some of the unused back

halls.

Aunt Selina held service that morning. Jim said that he always had a

prayer book, but that he couldn't find anything with so many people

in the house. So Aunt Selina read some religious poetry out of the

newspapers, and gave us a valuable talk on Deception versus Honesty,

with me as the illustration.




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