. But on my way to
the train I felt that I was under surveillance again, and by turning
quickly I came face to face with one of the men."

"Would you know him?" I asked.

"Yes. I thought he was a detective, you know I've had a lot of that sort
of thing lately, with election coming on. He didn't get on the train,
however."

"But the other one may have done so."

"Yes, the other one may. The thing I don't understand is this, Mr. Knox.
When we drew in at Bellwood Station I distinctly remember opening the
bag and putting my newspaper and railroad schedule inside. It was the
right bag then; my clothing was in it, and my brushes."

I had been examining the empty bag as he talked.

"Where did you put your railroad schedule?" I asked.

"In the leather pocket at the side."

"It is here," I said, drawing out the yellow folder. For a moment my
companion looked almost haunted. He pressed his hands to his head and
began to pace the room like a crazy man.

"The whole thing is impossible. I tell you, that valise was heavy when I
walked up from the station. I changed it from one hand to the other
because of the weight. When I got here I set it down on the edge of the
porch and tried the door. When I found it locked--"

"But it wasn't locked," I broke in. "When I came down-stairs to look for
a burglar, I found it open at least an inch."

He stopped in his pacing up and down, and looked at me curiously.

"We're both crazy, then," he asserted gravely. "I tell you, I tried
every way I knew to unlock that door, and could hear the chain rattling.
Unlocked! You don't know the way this house is fastened up at night."

"Nevertheless, it was unlocked when I came down."

We were so engrossed that neither of us had heard steps on the stairs.
The sound of a smothered exclamation from the doorway caused us both to
turn suddenly. Standing there, in a loose gown of some sort, very much
surprised and startled, was Margery Fleming. Wardrop pulled himself
together at once. As for me, I knew what sort of figure I cut, my collar
stained with blood, a lump on my forehead that felt as big as a
door-knob, and no shoes.

"What _is_ the matter?" she asked uncertainly. "I heard such queer
noises, and I thought some one had broken into the house."

"Mr. Wardrop was trying to break in," I explained, "and I heard him and
came down. On the way I had a bloody encounter with an open door, in
which I came out the loser."

I don't think she quite be