“No, I can’t sleep in strange beds. Besides, I’ve got trouble--big trouble. People can’t sleep when they’re in trouble.” “Ah!” said Julius wisely. “My theory is that you _have_ slept.” She looked round at him over her shoulder. “Where do you get that theory? Don’t you think I know whether I slept or not, you poor ... Mr. Superbus?” “No,” said Julius calmly; “there’s one thing nobody knows--you can never know that you’re asleep. You’re a bit of a sonombulist?” he asked with elaborate carelessness. “How’s that?” “Sonombulist--walk in your sleep. I got an idea I saw you about one o’clock?” She turned her face away to the contemplation of the fire. “Got ideas too? That mind of yours is surely active. If I thought you’d seen me at one o’clock, why, I’d die right here at this very minute. I was taking off--you married?” Julius, with some complacence, confessed that he was. “Well, I guess I can discuss corsets without offending against Public Morality. You didn’t see me at one o’clock--I’d be sorry to think you had.” Julius was embarrassed but not completely discouraged. “Maybe it was three o’clock--I saw somebody coming downstairs. Ha ha, Aunt Lizzie, I saw you!” He lifted a roguish finger. “You’re nutty,” she said tersely, yawned and got up. “I guess I could sleep now. And I’m going to hang a stocking over the keyhole of my door.” She directed this remark at Mr. Superbus and he choked indignantly at the base insinuation. “Did you see her?” asked Diana after Heloise had gone. “No, ma’am, I didn’t,” admitted Julius. “You can often get people to confess that way. It’s called the Third Decree in America. I’ve tried it myself. We had a charwoman help once who used to pinch my tobacco for her husband. I tried it on her--and other cases.” “You think it was Aunt Lizzie that was in the room?” “Certain!” said Julius. “Notice how quiet she walks? That’s a bad sign----” “Notice how she reeks of Origon?” mimicked Diana. “I didn’t see her reeking,” admitted Mr. Superbus, confused. “I wonder you didn’t--those heavy perfumes are almost visible. And there was no scent of Origon in the room--no fresh scent, anyway.” It was still dark when she drew up the blind and looked out. She felt very wide awake without knowing exactly in what manner her activity might be best employed. “Take this key, go up into Uncle Isaac’s room, open the door quietly and see if he is there. And then get out--quick!” Julius did not like that word “quick!” Climbing the stairs leisurely, he listened at the door of Uncle Isaac’s room. There was no sound. Which was satisfactory. On the other hand, the very stillness might be ominous. Mad people are notoriously cunning. He remembered gruesome stories he had heard of cat-footed maniacs who had crept up behind their guards and cut their throats with pieces of old iron secretly sharpened.