Bright Arrows (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

form of his address had seemed crude and over-familiar. And yet that was absurd of course, for they had been very close friends as children, as students in high school, a merry, friendly companionship. Nothing sentimental about it. And he hadn't even written her, just a careless little scrap of a letter, mostly jokes couched in army slang. Well, she would have to wait and see what he had become before she let him take even his old informality with her. She could be friendly, yes, but that was all till she knew him well.

      But having gone so far in the analysis of her old playmate, she had a definite feeling of sadness, a sense of loss. Something that she had taken for granted was gone, something that had belonged to her, that had been of real value. Or was it?

      Then she gathered up some of the letters that had touched her most and read them over again; as if, were her mother alive, she might have gone to her for advice. What would her mother think of the present Caspar? That would be something that she might always ask when she had any important question to decide. What would Mother say?

      It was almost like having come suddenly into the possession again of her own mother. Having read all those letters of hers, she knew pretty well what would be her advice, her decision about a great many questions of the day.

      And now as she got up from her chair and went and looked out the window at the beauty of the day, she was glad in her heart that Caspar had not come immediately as he had at first suggested, for now she would come to meet him with the wisdom of her dear mother's judgment upon her.

      For she had to own to herself that the little talk she had had with her old friend had not reassured her about him.

      Could it be that it was just because she had been close to death, and a thought of the other world had made her more critical? She could not be sure. Of course, her heart was sore, and Caspar had revealed a great lack of respect for the father she loved. She had supposed he loved him also, and that failure to show any love had gone far toward opening her eyes to what he might have become. Certainly she could never be very friendly with one who, having once known what her father was and benefited by much kindness from him, could speak disrespectfully of him, even though he did not know of his recent death. With a sigh she turned away from the window and went back to putting her letters into safekeeping, where no prying eyes could ever bring them out and go through them. She did not yet know that someone in the night had tried to do that very thing to the other drawers in her father's desk.

      So she got out a lovely capacious writing desk of quaint old-fashioned design, made of exquisite polished wood, that had been Mother's, and she carefully packed her letters within, locking it and stowing it away on a wide shelf in her own personal clothespress, safely hidden behind a row of hatboxes.

      And just then she heard the doorbell. Could it be possible that Caspar had come so early? But, no, he had said he had to see that soldier friend of his off on a train. Well, perhaps he went on an earlier train than was first planned. Eden's heart began to give anxious little uncertain flutters. Would she know just what to say? How to act? Had her mother's letters made her self-conscious? That was not good. She must have perfect poise and dignity if she were to use right judgment, and she must, of course, be friendly and kind as an old schoolmate would naturally be. She must be back exactly where they left off when he went away if she were to judge if he had changed, and if for better or for worse.

      And then suddenly Janet broke in upon her thoughts with a gentle knock.

      "Miss Eden," she said in a low voice, "Mr. McGregor is doon the stair. He says there are some important questions he must ask ye and would ye kindly coom doon the stair an' let him have a few words wi' ye?"

      "McGregor?" said Eden. "Oh, you mean Mike. About the intruder, I suppose. Why, of course, I'll go right down."

      So Eden went down to meet the big friendly policeman and the man he had brought along with him. They were sitting stiffly in the little reception room next to the front door, and just in front of the library, as Eden entered wondering, a bit startled by the stranger whom she had never seen before.

      CHAPTER IV

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      Eden looked with shy surprise at the stranger who had come with Mike. He didn't look like a policeman. He was dressed in an ordinary business suit. He was young and good looking, a gentleman; that was entirely obvious even before Mike said:

      "This is Mr. Lorrimer, Miss Thurston. He's interested in this case of the young man who entered your house last night. He wants to ask you some questions. He's got a right to ask 'em. He's a federal agent as well as the lawyer representing your bank, and he's here at your Mr. Worden's request checking things over for us."

      Eden gave the young man another startled glance. It sounded rather frightening. Federal agent! Lawyer! Surely she didn't know anything that a federal agent would want to question her about. But another good look at the clean-cut face, the steady, dependable, trustworthy eyes, reassured her.

      "Yes?" she answered, watching his eyes keenly, trying to still the frightened beating of her heart. He didn't look dangerous.

      Then the young man smiled.

      "Thank you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but it is necessary for me to learn some facts from the head of this house, and I understand you are the head of this house."

      He gave her a quick glance that sized up her youth quite accurately.

      Eden answered with a grave smile and a nod of assent. She hoped her lips were not trembling, so she held to the smile rather determinedly, to keep them steady.

      "Very well, then can you tell me just who this person is that calls himself Ellery Fane? Is he related to you?"

      "No, he is not," she said quickly. "He was the son of my uncle's second wife by her first husband. I know my uncle, my father's brother, never knew of the boy when he married Mrs. Fane. But he was too kindhearted to turn the boy out, and so soon after my uncle died. Then my father tried to be kind to Ellery, but he was rather awful. He forged some checks in my father's bank when Father tried to give him a good job. He was a torment as long as he stayed here, and finally he ran away. Soon after that his mother disappeared. This is the first time I have seen him since Ellery was sixteen. Father took me away with him on a long business trip. When we came back, they were gone. I think that is about all I know."

      "Thank you," said the young man, looking up from the quick shorthand notes he was taking. "And now, what about last night?"

      "I was sitting in the library going over some letters of my mother's that Father had left for me to read, and I looked up and saw Ellery standing by the door. I don't know how he got in, or when, he just stood there and called me 'cousin' and began to talk to me. He thought I was going over business papers and offered to help me. I told him I didn't want any help from him. He said he and his mother were coming to live with me and take care of me, and that he was going to teach me how to change Father's investments and make me a rich girl. He was very insulting to my wonderful father. Then the servants appeared, and when the butler said he had sent for the police, Ellery slid out into the hall, got his hat and coat, and vanished. I think that is about all I know."

      "Thank you," said the man. "And now, Mr. McGregor, where is the butler, and the serving woman, that you said had more to tell?"

      "Right here, sir," responded Tabor, entering immediately, with Janet like a shadow just behind him. Janet slid quietly in, and Tabor stood at attention near the door.

      Tabor told of the night's invasion and his calling for the police. He told why Ellery had been at once suspected and how his fingerprints, taken after he was caught, had corresponded with those on the library window that had been jimmied open.

      Eden listened in wonder as the story unfolded, and then as Janet arose stiffly in response to her name and went on to tell of Mrs. Fane's arrival, and Mike's carrying her away protesting in his police car, she leaned forward and listened amazed.

      Oh, what had been going on about her while she was asleep! How wonderfully