Lady Larkspur. Meredith Nicholson

a cigar, but I had hardly settled myself for a quiet hour before I heard a commotion from the direction of the gate, followed a few minutes later by a shout and a noisy colloquy, after which a roadster arrived in haste at the front door.

      "Mr. Torrence, sir," announced Antoine. "I'm sorry, sir, but he ran by the guard at the gate, and our man below the house stopped him. It's a precaution we've been taking, sir."

      Torrence's sense of humor was always a little feeble, and I hastened into the hall to reassure him as to his welcome. He was wiping the perspiration from his face and swearing under his breath.

      "For God's sake, Singleton, what's happened here? A band of pirates jumped on my running-board, and after I'd knocked them off a road-agent stopped me right there in sight of the house and poked the muzzle of a shotgun in my face."

      "Mighty sorry you were annoyed, but there have been some queer characters 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 to see the country. Will reach Barton in four or five days. Please wire me at the Washington Inn, Lenox, whether house is in order for occupancy.

      "Alice Bashford."

      "Well, what do you say to that?" he demanded.

      "I say it's taking unfair advantage," I answered savagely. "I've got to clear out; that's the first thing."

      "Not necessarily. Your right to the garage is settled; she couldn't oust you if she wanted to. You've got to stay here anyhow till she comes; there's no ducking that. The widow of an uncle who did a lot for you, a stranger to the country; it's up to you to see her established. There are many little courtesies she would naturally expect from you."

      "I'm delighted that you see my duty so clearly! If you hadn't assured me that she was safe at the end of the world I wouldn't have set foot here."

      "The house is in order, I judge," he remarked, glancing about the room. "I've got to wire her that we're ready for her."

      "You most certainly have! Your duty is as plain as a smoke-stack. You might add that she's causing serious inconvenience to her late husband's only nephew."

      "You really don't mean that?" he inquired anxiously.

      "Oh, thunder, no!"

      I had forgotten how trying Torrence could be. He now suggested that we summon Antoine and take a look at the house. Torrence is a conscientious fellow with an exact and orderly mind, and there was no corner of the place from cellar to garret that we didn't explore. It was highly creditable to the old Tyringham servants that the house was thoroughly habitable. All that need be done before Mrs. Bashford arrived was to lay linen on the beds and take the jackets from the furniture; a couple of hours would suffice, Antoine said.

      As we were on our way down-stairs the old fellow detained me a moment.

      "Have you told him about the parties? Pardon me, sir," he whispered, "but him and the trust company is responsible. I thought likely you'd tell him."

      I shook my head in angry rejection of the idea that I should tell Torrence about "the parties," and dismissed him as soon as we reached the hall.

      "I suggest," said Torrence, "that when she comes you have flowers in all the rooms; the conservatory will supply enough. And it occurs to me that the more inconspicuous you make this bunch of lazy dependents the more agreeable it will be for Mrs. Bashford."

      "You don't expect much of me! It was never in the contract that I should become the patriarch of these venerable relics. But I'll warn them to conceal themselves as much as possible. I fully expect to leave the reservation for good just one hour after the lady arrives."

      "That's your affair, of course. As she's motoring, we can't just time her arrival, but when I get a wire that she's on the way I'll telephone you. And, of course, after she gets here I'll come at once to pay my respects."

      "You can't come too soon!" I answered spitefully.