particular; but some of us are inclined to be a bit officious, and—oh, I don’t know, Norma,—I don’t want to say anything—even to you. Let’s talk of pleasanter subjects.”
“What, for instance?”
“You, for instance! You’re enchanting to-day, in that pale blue gown. It makes you look like an angel.”
“Do they wear pale blue?”
“I don’t know what they wear, and shan’t care until you really are one, and then, I hope I’ll be one, too. But you look like an angel, because of your angelic face. It’s like a roseleaf washed in sunlight——”
“Now, Rudolph, don’t try to be poetical! You can’t hit it off! A washed face is remindful of a soap advertisement,—not an angel!”
“Rogue! You love to make fun of me! But I don’t mind. Oh, Norma, I don’t care what you say to me, if you’ll only say yes. Won’t you, dearest?”
“Bad boy! Behave yourself! I told you not to ask any question until we get away from this place. I won’t listen to love talk at Black Aspens! It’s out of the picture!”
“But will you, as soon as we get back to New York? Will you, Norma—darling?”
“Wait till then, and we’ll see,” was all the answer he could get.
Chapter XIV.
Zizi
“Where is she?” Milly asked of Hester, as, more out of curiosity than hospitality she went to the kitchen.
“Well! Mis’ Landon, I never see such a thing in all my born days! She slid out here like she was on roller-skates! ‘Hester?’ she says, smilin’, and with that she settled herself for good and all, ’sif she’d been born an’ brought up here! She slid to the cupboard, and picked out the tea caddy, and took down a little teapot, and in a jiffy, she’d snatched up the b’ilin’ teakettle, and was settin’ at that there table, drinkin’ her tea! I got her out some cakes, and by then she was a-cuttin’ bread an’ butter! Never’ve I seen her like!”
“Did she trouble you?”
“Land, no, ma’am! She waits on herself, but so quick, you’d think she was a witch!”
“Where is she now?”
“Well, ma’am, she finished her tea, and then she fair scooted up the back stairs. I heard her dart into one or two rooms, and then she took the little South gable room for hers. I could hear her stepping about, putting her things away, I make no doubt. She looked in here again, a minute, and said, ‘I’ve chosen that little room with the lattice wall paper,’ and then she disappeared again. That’s all I know about her. No, ma’am, she don’t trouble me none, and I don’t say I don’t sort o’ take to her. But she’s a queer little piece. She is that.”
Milly sighed. “Every thing’s queer, Hester,” she said, broodingly, and then she went back to the hall.
Wynne Landon sat there alone. His face was grave, and he sighed deeply as his wife came to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.
“Where’s everybody, Wynnsie?” she said cheerily.
“Traipsing over the house, hunting clues! Rotten business, Milly.”
“Why? What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. I hope if that man is going to find the criminal, he’ll make short work of it!”
“So do I, dear, then we can go home, can’t we?”
“You bet! Here they are, now,—they seem in good spirits.”
The crowd came down the stairs and into the great hall, laughing at some quip of Wise’s. Ever since the day of the two deaths a sombre gloom had pervaded the whole place, and smiles had been few. The sound of laughter came as a shock to the Landons, but the cheery face of Penny Wise betokened only wholesome good nature, and not flippant heartlessness.
“Old Montgomery knew how to build a house,” he commented, looking at the finely curving staircase, and its elaborate balusters. “Living rooms nowadays are all very well, but these great entrance halls are finer places to congregate. You spend much of your time here, I’m sure. The worst part is, they’re difficult to light properly,—by daylight, I mean. And, you’ve no electrics here, have you?”
“No,” replied Landon, “only kerosene and candles. You see, the place has been unoccupied for years.”
“Haunted houses are apt to be,——”
“Reputed haunted houses,” corrected the Professor.
“There are no others,” and Wise grinned. “All reputed haunted houses have nothing to haunt them but their repute. I mean, the story of their ghost is all the ghost they have.”
“But I saw the ghost here,” and Eve spoke with a quiet dignity that defied contradiction.
“Of course you did,” Wise assented. “The ghost came purposely to be seen.”
“Did you ever see one, Mr. Wise?”
“I never did, Miss Carnforth, I never hope to see one! But I can tell you anyhow, I’d rather see than be one.”
“Oh, of course, if you’re going to take that tone,” and Eve turned away, decidedly offended.
“Sorry!” and Wise flashed a smile at her. “But, you see, a detective can’t afford to believe in ghosts. We make our living solving mysteries, and to say, ‘It was the ghost! You’re right, it was the ghost!’ is by way of begging the question.”
“Then you think the phantoms that appeared to some of us were really human beings?” asked Tracy, interestedly.
“I sure do.”
“And you propose to find out who and how?” said Braye.
“If I live up to my reputation, I must do so. There are but two kinds of detectives. Effective detectives and defective detectives. It is the aim of my life to belong to the former class, and here’s my chance to make good. Now, I’ve examined the upper floors, I’ll look over this hall and the ground floor rooms. Shall I have time before dinner, Mrs. Landon?”
His charm and pleasant personality had already won Milly’s liking and she said, cordially, “Yes, indeed, Mr. Wise. And if you wish, we’ll delay dinner to suit your pleasure.”
“Not at all. Done in a few minutes. Stunning hall, eh, Zizi?”
“Yes,” said the thin little voice of the thin little girl, and Milly suddenly realized that Zizi was present with the crowd.
The graceful little figure stepped forward and stood at Wise’s side as he looked the hall over. He tapped at the panelled walls, and smiled as he said, “Solid and intact. No secret passage or sliding panel,—of that I’m sure.”
“If you’re trying to find a secret entrance into the house, Mr. Wise,” Landon said, “you are wasting your time. I am more or less architecturally inclined, and I’ve tapped and sounded and measured and calculated,—and I can assure you there’s nothing of the sort.”
“Good work! That saves me some trouble, I’m sure. Marvellous work on these doors, eh? And the bronze columns,—from abroad, I take it.”
“Yes;” Professor Hardwick said, slapping his hand against one of the fluted bronze pillars, “I admire these columns more than the doors even. They’re unique, I don’t wonder their owner ‘built a house behind them.’ I doubt if their match is in America.”
“And