fle
absurd that their farewell should project nothing more impulsive than a
hand-clasp. Its only compensation, indeed, was the reluctance with which
she let his fingers go.

When Garth had left, Nora arose and faced her father.

"What's all this mystery?" she demanded. "It's easy enough to guess
there's danger for Jim, and you know a lot more than you pretend."

"See here, Nora," the inspector grumbled, "I usually give the third
degree myself in this place."

She rested her hands on the desk, studying his uncertain eyes.

"Why," she asked, "wouldn't you let Jim tell me the man's name?"

His bluster was too apparently simulated.

"What did you come down for this morning anyway? No sense in your
getting upset. A detective bureau isn't a nursery."

She straightened slowly, her face recording an unwelcome assurance.

"Politics!" she cried. "And Jim's leaving from the Grand Central. I
know. He's going to Mr. Alden's at Deacon's Bay. I see why you wouldn't
let him tell me."

"Place is all right," the inspector said stubbornly. "You've seen it.
You were there with me two summers ago. What's the matter with the
place?"

"No use trying to pull the wool over my eyes," Nora answered. "It's the
loneliest place I've ever seen, and you ought to know I'd remember Mr.
Alden's big furnaces and machine-shop. I read the papers, father. He's
staying up so late this year on account of the enormous war orders he's
taken. You know as well as I do that that may mean real danger for Jim.
What did Mr. Alden tell you?"

The inspector spread his hands helplessly.

"I sometimes think, Nora, you'd make a better detective than any of us.
Alden's sick and nervous. I guess that's all it amounts to. He's
probably scared some German sympathizer may take a pot shot at him for
filling these contracts. And he's worried about his wife. She won't
leave him there alone, and it seems all their servants, except old John,
have cleared out."

"You said something to Jim about spooks," Nora prompted.

"Thought you'd come to that," the inspector said. "You're like your
mother was, Nora--always on the look-out for the supernatural."

"So, I gather, were the servants," she answered drily.

"Silly talk, Alden says, about the woods back of his house. You
remember. There was some kind of a fight there during the Revolution--a
lot of men ambushed and massacred. I guess you saw the bayonets and
gun-locks Alden had dug up. Servants got talking--said they