CRAWFORD HOUSE

"Here we are, sir," said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stone
gateway. "This is the Joseph Crawford place."

He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that his
devotion to his late master was truly exceptional.

This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all its
appurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so magnificent as some of
the others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realized
that every detail of art or architecture was perfect in its way, and
that it was really a gem of a country home to which I had been brought.

We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged flower
beds, and many valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere the
driver stopped, and the groom sprang down to hand me out.

As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking in
groups on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming or
going through the open front doors.

A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room.

The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I
passed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I was conscious
of an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and judgment.

The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed
well adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and his family.
It should have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and with
smiling society manners.

It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be
a commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit.
He came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as he
announced, "My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are
Mr. Burroughs, from New York."

It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, but
his tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing.

"Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs," I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with what
I hoped was an expression that would assure him that our stations were
at least equal.

I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he
knew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had especially desired
my attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he still
kept up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more than
irritated me.

I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never