And almost immediately Durrie came into the room, and then the nurse. And if the lawyer looked as if he were stuffed with sawdust, then the nurse looked as if she were charged with some high explosive. But she kept her beautiful dark eyes lowered and her red, rich mouth silent.

The dining room was dimly lighted. The food was very rich and very heavy and there was no conversation. The lawyer talked a little of politics and lifted his eyebrows a great deal; Durrie said nothing and looked at the nurse; the nurse looked at the table cloth and Miriam looked at nobody and ate steadily.

After dinner Susan had vaguely expected a talk with the lawyer. Instead they played Parcheesi. Played it till ten o’clock.

There was somewhere in the house a clock which struck on a gasping, breathless note not unlike Miriam’s panting voice. When it struck ten John Van Dusen rose, the Parcheesi board disappeared, the nurse murmured and vanished.

“Good night, Miriam. Good night, Durrie. A pleasant evening. Good night, Miss Dare.” The little lawyer paused and looked at Susan as if he had just become conscious of her presence. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Miss Dare. So good of you to come. Not of course that there’s any—er—reason for it. It really is absurd—the whole idea. Miriam is aware of my feeling, but she insisted—”

“Now, John,” panted Miriam good-naturedly, “don’t blame me for this. And don’t trip on the step—it’s likely to be slippery. Go with him to his car, Durrie.”

Durrie obeyed.

Miriam looked at Susan.

“Well, my dear,” she said expectantly. “How is it going? What did you think of John? He’s a dear old fellow. But timid. Very timid. Wouldn’t admit a murder if he saw it with his own eyes.”

“Why is the nurse still here?” asked Susan.

“Rosina? Oh, I asked her to stay on for a little. During Uncle’s long illness and her extreme devotion to him we became very fond of her.”

The hall door opened and closed again and they could hear Durrie locking it.

“Well—how about some cake or sandwiches before you go to sleep. No? Very well. Just ring the bell if you do want anything.”

Susan was still shuddering when she reached her room; her hostess’s interest in food was, to say the least, inordinate.

And it was ubiquitous. Susan tossed and turned and between times dreamed of enormous boxes of chocolate creams pursuing her. Once, quite late, a sound of some kind in the hall roused her so thoroughly that she rose and opened her door cautiously and peered into the shadows of the night-lighted hall. There was, however, nothing there.