Madame Storey Intervenes

In order to recuperate from the strain of the tremendous publicity that

followed upon her success in the famous case of the Smoke Bandit, Mme.

Storey retired for a few days to the house of her close friends, the

Andrew Lipscombs, who lived in the Connecticut hills remote from any

neighbor. I accompanied my employer, since she insisted that I needed a

holiday as well as herself.

We simply locked up, our offices and went away, leaving the telephone to

ring, the mail to accumulate, and the hordes of curiosity-seekers to

mill around the door as they would. We supposed that we had kept the

place of our retreat a secret from all, but that fond hope was soon

dissipated. Late on the night of our arrival, as we were playing bridge

with our friends in the blessed quietude of their house, my employer was

called to the telephone.

She returned to the card table with the grave remote look that I knew so

well, her working look, and my heart sank.

"Well, Bella, we have another case," she said.

I laid down my cards. It was useless to protest, of course.

"There's been a terrible affair down at Fremont-on-the-Sound," she went

on. "A gentleman has been found shot dead in his study, and a young girl

has been arrested. The man who called me up, evidently the girl's lover,

begged me to come and try to get her off. His voice coming through the

receiver had an extraordinary quality; young an manly; shaken with grief

and agitation; yet proud and confident of his girl; it won me

completely. I said I would drive right down."

"Murder?" said Mr. Lipscomb, startled, "and so close to, us? Who's been

murdered?"