“Not later,” she refused, with a brief return to the imperiousness which was her birthright. “Here is my story: Last evening after I went to bed I got to thinking over the robberies. And no matter what courses of reasoning I might follow I couldn’t make it seem that any one but Thaxton Vail had committed them. So I--” “Auntie!” cried Doris, in keen distress. Vail’s face flushed. He looked with pitiful dismay at his old friend. But Miss Gregg went on without glancing at either of the two young people: “I deduced that he might be sitting up examining his plunder or might even be planning to steal more while the rest of us were asleep. By the time the stable clock struck one I couldn’t lie there inactive any longer. I got up and put on this dressing gown and slippers. That is how I chanced to have them on when the alarm was given. Doris was sound asleep. I crept out of our suite without waking her. She was asleep; as I said. I could hear her. That is one of the joys of being young. Young folks’ consciences are so tough from many sins that they sleep like babes.” She caught herself up in this philosophical digression. Then, clasping the Book a little tighter, she continued: “I tiptoed out into the passageway. There was a faint light in the lower hall. I looked down. Macduff was lying at the foot of the stairs. I think he heard me, for he lifted his head from between his paws and wagged his tail. Then I peered over the banisters. And I saw Thax sitting at his study table. He was dressed--as he is now. The coast was clear for a peep into his room in case he had left any of the stolen things lying around there. So I tiptoed to his door and tried it. It was locked. Of course,” she added primly, “I didn’t dream Willis Chase was in there. Yes, I tiptoed to his room and tried the knob. That was the rattling sound Clive Creede heard just after the stable clock struck.” She glanced sharply at Creede. Clive nodded in wordless gratitude. “As I was starting back toward my suite,” she went on, “I heard Thax begin to climb the stairs. I crouched back behind the highboy in the upper hall. I didn’t care to be seen at that time of night rambling around my host’s house in such costume--or lack of costume. (It was not coyness, understand. It was fear of ridicule. Coyness, in a woman of my age, is like a scarecrow left in a field after the crop is gathered.)” “Auntie!” protested Doris again, but Miss Gregg went on unchecked: “Well, there I hid while he went past me, near enough for me to have stuck a pin in him. And, by the way, he did _not_ try the knob of the room where Willis Chase was. He didn’t try any doors at all. He just groped along till he came to the third story stairs. Then he went up them.” There was a slight general rustle at this announcement. Miss Gregg resumed: