o in, and get the family all together, and
we'll give you a dramatic recital of the Great Cromarty Mystery."

"Oh, is it a mystery story? How delightful. I love a mystery."

"I'm glad you do, but I assure you I wish it wasn't a mystery."

"Will it never be solved?"

"I fear not, now. But let us go back to the house, and tell the tale as
it should be told."

They found that the others had already gone into the house, and were
gathered round the big table that stood in the middle of the living room.
As they joined the group, Sinclair said:

"Before we play games this evening, we are going to tell Patty the story
of Uncle Marmaduke's money."

Patty was surprised to note the different expressions on her friends'
faces. Mabel seemed to shrink into herself, as if in embarrassment or
sensitiveness. Mrs. Cromarty looked calmly proud, and Mrs. Hartley smiled
a little.

But Bob laughed outright, and said:

"Good! I'll help; we'll all help, and we'll touch up the tale until it
has all the dramatic effect of a three-volume novel."

"It won't need touching up," said Sinclair. "Just the plain truth is
story enough of itself."

"You begin it, Grandy," said Bob, "and then, when your imagination gives
out, I'll take a hand at it."

The old lady smiled.

"It needs no imagination, Robert," she said; "if Patty cares to hear of
our family misfortune, I'm quite willing to relate the tale."

"Oh, I didn't know it was a misfortune," cried Patty. "I thought it was a
mystery story."

"It's both," said Mrs. Cromarty, "but if the mystery could be solved, it
would be no misfortune."

"That sounds like an enigma," observed Patty.

"It's all an enigma," said Bob. "Go ahead, Grandy."

"The story begins," said Mrs. Cromarty, "with my marriage to Roger
Cromarty. I was wed in the year 1855. My husband and I were happy during
the first few years of our married life. He was the owner of this
beautiful place, which had been in his family for many generations. My
daughter, Emmeline, was born here, and when she was a child she filled
the old house with her happy laughter and chatter. My husband had a
brother, Marmaduke, with whom he was not on good terms. Before my
marriage, this brother had left home, and gone to India. My husband held
no communication with him, but we sometimes heard indirectly from him,
and reports always said that he was amassing great wealth in some Indian
commerce."

"Is that his portrait?" asked Patty, indicati