on that side. He turned south, therefore, and after going
only a few hundred feet, approached a gateway that was similar in
many respects to that at the entrance to the driveway of the Merton
home. It lacked the tall, distinctive pines, however, and a short
distance inside the gate he could see a cozy little gardener's
cottage, or lodge. Marsh was well pleased at this discovery, for he
had hoped to locate something of the kind. Servants are more easily,
questioned, more talkative, and usually in the possession of a
larger amount of neighborhood gossip, than their employers. He
approached the door and knocked.

"Come in," called a feminine voice, unquestionably Swedish in its
accent.

Marsh opened the door and found himself in a room that appeared to
be kitchen, sitting and dining room. A small, round table was set
for two, and a woman stood near the stove, preparing lunch or a
midday dinner. Marsh had not realized how quickly the morning was
passing. The woman's occupation reminded him that he was hungry, and
also gave him a sudden inspiration. He would offer to buy his lunch
here, for people always grow more friendly and communicative over a
meal.

"You want my husband? He bane come in a minute," the woman said,
when she saw Marsh.

"No," Marsh replied, "I wasn't looking for your husband. I've been
walking around the neighborhood, and thought perhaps I could get
lunch here. I'll pay you well for your trouble."

The woman smiled broadly. "Dere bane enough one more. Yust set
down--one, two minute."

Marsh laid his hat and coat on an old-fashioned couch that stood
against the wall, and was about to sit down beside them, when the
door opened again and a stocky man entered. His tanned face was
expressionless, and the eyes looked dully at Marsh. A lock of light
brown hair drooped over his forehead from under a cap, which he wore
well back on his head. The cap seemed to be a fixture, for it was
not removed while Marsh remained, and the detective had the humorous
thought that it might also serve as a nightcap.

"Aye give dis yentleman lunch," explained the woman.

The man grunted, took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and sat
down at the table.

"Not very talkative," thought Marsh. Then the woman told him to sit
down at the place she had prepared for him. She heaped the three
plates with a stew-like mixture. Marsh did not recognize it, but he
liked the flavor. With this, and the fresh home-made bread, a cup of