quite dead for three days," she retorted spitefully.
"Euphemia said you threatened to dismiss her if she touched them."

CHAPTER XIV. THE TRAP-DOOR

By Sunday evening, a week after the wreck, my inaction had goaded me to
frenzy. The very sight of Johnson across the street or lurking, always
within sight of the house, kept me constantly exasperated. It was on
that day that things began to come to a focus, a burning-glass of events
that seemed to center on me.

I dined alone that evening in no cheerful frame of mind. There had been
a polo game the day before and I had lent a pony, which is always a bad
thing to do. And she had wrenched her shoulder, besides helping to
lose the game. There was no one in town: the temperature was ninety and
climbing, and my left hand persistently cramped under its bandage.

Mrs. Klopton herself saw me served, my bread buttered and cut in
tidbits, my meat ready for my fork. She hovered around me maternally,
obviously trying to cheer me.

"The paper says still warmer," she ventured. "The thermometer is
ninety-two now."

"And this coffee is two hundred and fifty," I said, putting down my cup.
"Where is Euphemia? I haven't seen her around, or heard a dish smash all
day."

"Euphemia is in bed," Mrs. Klopton said gravely. "Is your meat cut
small enough, Mr. Lawrence?" Mrs. Klopton can throw more mystery into
an ordinary sentence than any one I know. She can say, "Are your sheets
damp, sir?" And I can tell from her tone that the house across the
street has been robbed, or that my left hand neighbor has appendicitis.
So now I looked up and asked the question she was waiting for.

"What's the matter with Euphemia?" I inquired idly.

"Frightened into her bed," Mrs. Klopton said in a stage whisper. "She's
had three hot water bottles and she hasn't done a thing all day but
moan."

"She oughtn't to take hot water bottles," I said in my severest
tone. "One would make me moan. You need not wait, I'll ring if I need
anything."

Mrs. Klopton sailed to the door, where she stopped and wheeled
indignantly. "I only hope you won't laugh on the wrong side of your face
some morning, Mr. Lawrence," she declared, with Christian fortitude.
"But I warn you, I am going to have the police watch that house next
door."

I was half inclined to tell her that both it and we were under police
surveillance at that moment. But I like Mrs. Klopton, in spite of the
fact that I make her life a torment for her