ters about, tramps and that sort of thing, and the people on the
place are merely a little anxious. Have a cigar?"

"All I can say is that you'd better send your friends the password! That
fool out there with the gun----"

"Only a bell-hop, nothing more," I interrupted.

"--That fool, I say, is likely to kill somebody. Antoine"--he turned to
the butler, who was drawing the curtains at the windows--"if the
property's been threatened, you should have informed me immediately."

"Yes, sir; but it's only been quite recent, and, knowing Mr. Singleton
was coming, we didn't like to bother you."

"We can only apologize, Torry," I interposed. "The employees have been
alarmed, but we're bound to commend their zeal."

"Humph!" he ejaculated, the wounds to his dignity still rankling.

I forced a cigar upon him and talked of the weather to cover Antoine's
retreat. I resolved not to tell him the real cause of the servant's
apprehensions, knowing his disposition to magnify trifles and fearing he
might send the police to investigate. He lived only five miles from
Barton, a fact to which he now referred.

"Hadn't heard of any tramps over my way," he said, frowning. "These old
lunatics your uncle left here are simply hipped; that's all. Mr.
Bashford made a mistake in turning the place over to them; it was silly,
downright silly. It's a wonder you didn't think of upsetting his will on
the ground of mental unsoundness. It's not up to me to suggest such a
thing, but I believe you could knock it out!"

"Oh, chuck it! They're well-meaning helpless people, and it's bully that
Uncle Bash provided a home for them. There's nobody else to use the
place."

His cigar had proved soothing, but my last remark caused him to sit up
straight in his chair.

"By George! my hold-up almost made me forget what I came for. I have
news for you, Singleton; good or bad, as you may take it; Mrs. Bashford
is in America."

"Mrs. Bashford," I repeated faintly, "where do you get these pleasant
tidings?"

"This," he answered, producing a telegram, "is all I know about it. Got
it just as I was leaving the office this afternoon, and thought I'd
motor over and give you a pleasant surprise."

He seemed to enjoy my discomfiture. The message read:

PITTSFIELD, MASS., Sept. 20.

J. B. TORRENCE,
_Bainbridge Trust Co., New York._

Landed at Seattle a week ago, and have been motoring east from
Chicago