ay to
close the place for the season. Captain Poland will not be back."

"Oh!" softly exclaimed the colonel. And then to himself he added: "He
won't be back! Well, perhaps I shall have to bring him back. Another
link! There may be three people in this instead of two!"

CHAPTER XIX. "UNKNOWN"

"So sweet of you to see me, Miss Carwell, in all your grief, and I must
apologize for troubling you."

Miss Tighe, alias Morocco Kate, fairly gushed out the words as she
extended a hand to Viola in the library. The first glance at the "large
blonde," as the maid had described her, shocked the girl. She could
hardly repress a shudder of disgust as she looked at the bleached hair.
But, nerving herself for the effort, Viola let her hand rest limply for
a moment in the warm moist grip of Miss Tighe.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Viola.

"Thank you. I won't detain you long. I called merely on business, though
I suppose you think I'm not a very business-like looking person. But I
am strictly business, all the way through," and she tittered. "I find it
pays better to really dress the part," she added.

"I was so sorry to hear about your dear father's death. I knew
him--quite well I may say--he was very good to me."

"Yes," murmured Viola, and somehow her heart was beating strangely.
What did it all mean? Who was this--this impossible person who claimed
business relations, yes, even friendliness, with the late Mr. Carwell?

"And now to tell you what I came for," went on Miss Tighe. "Your dear
father--and in his death I feel that I have lost a very dear friend and
adviser--your dear father purchased many valuable books of me. I sell
only the rarest and most expensive bindings, chiefly full morocco. Your
father was very fond of books, wasn't he?"

Viola could not help admitting it, as far as purchasing expensive, if
unread, editions was concerned. The library shelves testified to this.

"Yes, indeed, he just loved them, and he was always glad when I brought
his attention to a new set, my dear Miss Carwell. Well, that is what I
came about now. Just before his terrible death--it was terrible,
wasn't it? Oh, I feel so sorry for you," and she dabbed a much-perfumed
handkerchief to her eyes. "Just before his lamented death he bought a
lovely white morocco set of the Arabian Nights from me. Forty volumes,
unexpurgated, my dear. Mind you that--unexpurgated!" and Morocco Kate
seemed to dwell on this with relish. "As I say, he bought