The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the
dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and
still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign
of life.

"Humph!" sniffed Keziah. "It might have been upstairs, but it didn't
sound so. What did it sound like to you?"

"Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and
rustling. Oh, what is the matter?"

Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange expression on
her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened.

"What IS it?" pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper.

"Grace," was the low reply, "I've just remembered somethin'. That study
door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I remember now
that it was open this mornin'."

Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this paralyzing
fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of the study door.

"Whoever you are in there," she commanded sternly, "open this door and
come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come out."

There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made answer, a
man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment.

"Madam," it said, "I--I am--I will be out in another minute. If you will