nter wheeled on Wardrop.

"A quarter to two?" he asked. "You were coming home from--the city?"

"Yes, from the station."

Hunter watched him closely.

"The last train gets in here at twelve-thirty," he said slowly. "Does it
always take you an hour and a quarter to walk the three squares to the
house?"

Wardrop flushed uneasily, and I could see Margery's eyes dilate with
amazement. As for me, I could only stare.

"I did not come directly home," he said, almost defiantly.

Hunter's voice was as smooth as silk.

"Then--will you be good enough to tell me where you did go?" he asked.
"I have reasons for wanting to know."

"Damn your reasons--I beg your pardon, Margery. Look here, Mr. Hunter,
do you think I would hurt a hair of that old lady's head? Do you think I
came here last night and killed her, or whatever it is that has happened
to her? And then went out and tried to get in again through the window?"

"Not necessarily," Hunter said, unruffled. "It merely occurred to me
that we have at least an hour of your time last night, while this thing
was going on, to account for. However, we can speak of that later. I am
practically certain of one thing, Miss Maitland is not dead, or was not
dead when she was taken away from this house."

"Taken away!" Margery repeated. "Then you think she was kidnapped?"

"Well, it is possible. It's a puzzling affair all through. You are
certain there are no closets or unused rooms where, if there had been a
murder, the body could be concealed."

"I never heard of any," Margery said, but I saw Wardrop's face change on
the instant. He said nothing, however, but stood frowning at the floor,
with his hands deep in his coat pockets.

Margery was beginning to show the effect of the long day's strain; she
began to cry a little, and with an air of proprietorship that I
resented, somehow, Wardrop went over to her.

"You are going to lie down, Margery," he said, holding out his hand to
help her up. "Mrs. Mellon will come over to Aunt Letitia, and you must
get some sleep."

"Sleep!" she said with scorn, as he helped her to her feet. "Sleep, when
things like this are occurring! Father first, and now dear old Aunt
Jane! Harry, do you know where my father is?"

He faced her, as if he had known the question must come and was prepared
for it.

"I know that he is all right, Margery. He has been--out of town. If it
had not been for something unforeseen that--happened within the last few
ho