them. There was more here than
even Joyce had hoped or imagined. This was a house of mystery.

The apartment across the hall proved to be the drawing-room. Though in
evident disarray it, however, exhibited fewer signs of the strange,
long-past agitation. In dimensions it was similar to the dining-room,
running from front to back of the house. Here, too, was another
elaborate candelabrum, somewhat smaller than the first, queer,
spindle-legged, fiddle-backed chairs, beautiful cabinets and tables, and
an old, square piano, still open. The chairs stood in irregular groups
of twos and threes, chumming cozily together as their occupants had
doubtless done, and over the piano had been carelessly thrown a long,
filmy silk scarf, one end hanging to the floor. Upon everything the dust
was indescribably thick and cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

"Do you know," spoke Joyce, in a whisper after they had looked a long
time, "I think I can guess part of an explanation for all this. There
was a party here, long, long ago,--perhaps a dinner-party. Folks had
first been sitting in the drawing-room, and then went to the dining-room
for dinner. Suddenly, in the midst of the feast, something happened,--I
can't imagine what,--but it broke up the good time right away. Every one
jumped up from the table, upsetting chairs and dropping napkins. Perhaps
they all rushed out of the room. Anyway, they never came back to finish
the meal. And after that, the owner shut the house and boarded it up and
went away, never stopping to clear up or put things to rights. Awfully
sudden, that, and awfully queer!"

"Goodness, Joy! You're as good as a detective! How did you ever think
all that out?" murmured Cynthia, admiringly.

"Why, it's very simple," said Joyce. "The drawing-room is all
right,--just looks like any other parlor where a lot of people have been
sitting, before it was put to rights. But the dining-room's different.
Something happened there, suddenly, and people just got their things on
and left, after that! Can't you see it? But what _could_ it have been?
Oh, I'd give my _eyes_ to know, Cynthia!

"See here!" she added, after a moment's thought. "I've the loveliest
idea! You just spoke of detectives, and that put it into my head. Let's
play we're detectives, like Sherlock Holmes, and ferret out this
mystery. It will be the greatest lark ever! We will come here often, and
examine every bit of evidence we can find, and gather information
outside i