THE AMATEUR INN ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE _By_ ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE LOCHINVAR LUCK FURTHER ADVENTURES OF LAD BUFF: A COLLIE THE AMATEUR INN BLACK CÆSAR’S CLAN BLACK GOLD NEW YORK: GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY THE AMATEUR INN BY ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY [Illustration] THE AMATEUR INN. II PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I A NON-SKIPPABLE PROLOGUE 9 II AT LAST THE STORY BEGINS 22 III AN INVOLUNTARY LANDLORD 44 IV TWO OR THREE INTRUDERS 56 V ROBBER’S ROOST, UNINCORPORATED 75 VI THE POLICE AND THE DUKE OF ARGYLE 90 VII FAITH AND UNFAITH AND SOME MOONLIGHT 103 VIII THE INQUISITION 112 IX A LIE OR TWO 125 X A CRY IN THE NIGHT 140 XI WHAT LAY BEYOND THE SMASHED DOOR 161 XII WHEREIN CLIVE PLAYS THE FOOL 175 XIII HOW ONE OATH WAS TAKEN 192 XIV A CLUELESS CLUE 211 XV THE IMPOSSIBLE 220 XVI THE COLLIE TESTIFIES 231 XVII UNTANGLING THE SNARL 243 XVIII WHEN HE CAME HOME 257 XIX A MAN AND A MAID AND ANOTHER MAN 283 THE AMATEUR INN THE AMATEUR INN CHAPTER I A NON-SKIPPABLE PROLOGUE Osmun Vail doesn’t come into this story at all. Yet he was responsible for everything that happened in it. He was responsible for the whistling cry in the night, and for the Thing that huddled among the fragrant boxtrees, and for the love of a man and a maid--or rather the loves of several men and a maid--and for the amazing and amusing and jewel-tangled dilemma wherein Thaxton was shoved. He was responsible for much; though he was actively to blame for nothing. Moreover he and his career were interesting. So he merits a word or two, if only to explain what happened before the rise of our story’s curtain. At this point, the boreful word, Prologue, should be writ large, with a space above and below it, by way of warning. But that would be the sign to skip. And one cannot skip this short prologue without losing completely the tangled thread of the yarn which follows--a thread worth gripping and a yarn more or less worth telling. So let us dispose of the prologue, without calling it by its baleful name; and in a mere mouthful or two of words. Something like this: When Osmun Vail left his father’s Berkshire farm, at twenty-one, to seek his fortune in New York, he wore his $12 “freedom suit” and had a cash capital of $18, besides his railway ticket.