How is Miss Armstrong?"
"She--she is doing very well," I stammered.
"Good," cheerfully. "And our ghost? Is it laid?"
"Mr. Jamieson," I said suddenly, "I wish you would do one thing:
I wish you would come to Sunnyside and spend a few days there.
The ghost is not laid. I want you to spend one night at least
watching the circular staircase. The murder of Arnold Armstrong
was a beginning, not an end."
He looked serious.
"Perhaps I can do it," he said. "I have been doing something
else, but--well, I will come out to-night."
We were very silent during the trip back to Sunnyside. I watched
Gertrude closely and somewhat sadly. To me there was one glaring
flaw in her story, and it seemed to stand out for every one to
see. Arnold Armstrong had had no key, and yet she said she had
locked the east door. He must have been admitted from within the
house; over and over I repeated it to myself.
That night, as gently as I could, I told Louise the story of her
stepbrother's death. She sat in her big, pillow-filled chair,
and heard me through without interruption. It was clear that she
was shocked beyond words: if I had hoped to learn anything from
her expression, I had failed. She was as much in the dark as we
were.
CHAPTER XVIII
A HOLE IN THE WALL
My taking the detective out to Sunnyside raised an unexpected
storm of protest from Gertrude and Halsey. I was not prepared
for it, and I scarcely knew how to account for it.
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