have carried with me, during all the months
since that time, a mental picture of her as she stood there, in a pink
morning frock of some sort. But only the other day, having mentioned
this to her, she assured me that the frock was blue, that she didn't
have a pink garment at the time this story opens and that if she did she
positively didn't have it on. And having thus flouted my eye for color,
she maintains that she did _not_ have her back to me, for she
distinctly saw my newly-raised bridge as I came down the stairs. So I
amend this. Miss Fleming in a blue frock was facing the door when I went
into the breakfast-room. Of one thing I am certain. She came forward and
held out her hand.

"Good morning," she said. "What a terrible face!"

"It isn't mine," I replied meekly. "My own face is beneath these
excrescences. I tried to cover the bump on my forehead with French
chalk, but it only accentuated the thing, like snow on a mountain top."

"'The purple peaks of Darien,'" she quoted, pouring me my coffee. "Do
you know, I feel so much better since you have taken hold of things.
Aunt Letitia thinks you are wonderful."

I thought ruefully of the failure of my first attempt to play the
sleuth, and I disclaimed any right to Miss Letitia's high opinion of me.
From my dogging the watchman to the police station, to Delia and her
note, was a short mental step.

"Before any one comes down, Miss Fleming," I said, "I want to ask a
question or two. What was the name of the maid who helped you search
the house that night?"

"Annie."

"What other maids did you say there were?"

"Delia and Rose."

"Do you know anything about them? Where they came from, or where they
went?"

She smiled a little.

"What does one know about new servants?" she responded. "They bring you
references, but references are the price most women pay to get rid of
their servants without a fuss. Rose was fat and old, but Delia was
pretty. I thought she rather liked Carter."

Carter as well as Shields, the policeman. I put Miss Delia down as a
flirt.

"And you have no idea where Carter went?"

"None."

Wardrop came in then, and we spoke of other things. The two elderly
ladies it seemed had tea and toast in their rooms when they wakened, and
the three of us breakfasted together. But conversation languished with
Wardrop's appearance; he looked haggard and worn, avoided Miss
Fleming's eyes, and after ordering eggs instead of his chop, looked at
his w