he said. "Catch me
leaving them about in my dressing-room again. No, they shall always go
straight back into the safe. Mrs. Maitland was right about that, though
it wouldn't do to confess it. Precious lucky for me that you heard the
burglars and ran out; though I wouldn't advise you to try and tackle two
muscular ruffians by yourself another time. It was just a chance that
one broke his leg when you pulled down the ladder, otherwise they would
have finished you off before we arrived on the scene."

I may here remark that I never thought it necessary to correct the
version of the story which I found was already generally accepted. To
this day Maitland firmly believes that I was just getting into bed,
when, with supernatural acuteness, I divined the presence of robbers
under his dressing-room window, and creeping quietly out attacked them
in the rear.

"By-the-bye, is Miss Latouche still staying here?" I presently inquired
in as calm a voice as I could command.

"No, she left suddenly the day after your accident. She complained of
feeling upset by the affair, and wished to go home. We did not press her
to stay, as she is liable to nervous attacks which are rather alarming.
Why, that very night, curiously enough, I met her evidently walking in
her sleep down the passage as I rushed out at your shout. She passed
quite close to me without making any sign, and was quite unconscious of
it next day--in fact referred with some surprise to having slept all
through the row."

"Has she always had these peculiar ways?" I asked with interest.

"Well, I always thought her an imaginative, fanciful sort of girl, but
she has certainly been much worse since that poor fellow's death. What,
you never heard the story? It was at a picnic, and she insisted upon his
climbing some rocks to get her a certain flower, just for the sake of
giving trouble, as girls do. The poor lad's foot slipped, and he rolled
right over a precipice and was dashed to pieces. Of course it was a
shocking thing, but it's a pity she became so morbid about it, as no
real blame attached to her. Now I must not talk too much or the doctor
will say I have tired you; so good-bye for the present."

And that was the last I heard of Irene Latouche.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various

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