“It doesn’t make any difference how dreadful it may be. She’ll feel she’s got to see it. Oh, damn!” Then he moved over to the door of the closet. “Fanny,” he shouted, “we’re going back to the library. If you don’t come out inside of five minutes, we’ll break down the door. Now what a fool thing that was to say,” he murmured, precisely as if we were to blame for his words. A slender figure in white Spanish lace became suddenly manifest among us. “Mrs. Allis, can I telephone?” Mrs. Conway asked softly. “No, I’m afraid you can’t.” Maud’s answer was grim. “Fanny Medford has locked herself into the telephone closet with the first sheet of that wretched stuff.” “Then will someone go out and telephone for me”--she gave the number--“and ask them to send my car at once?” “Ben can telephone from the extension upstairs,” Maud suggested sullenly. “Oh, thank you. I wish he would.” Allis turned suddenly upon Mrs. Conway. “I can’t pretend that, as a host, I’m proud of my hospitality. But don’t you think it would be kinder all round if we didn’t break up? We might be able to get that poor thing out of her hysteria if we all stuck about and did our best?” “I have no intention of going before Mrs. Medford does, Mr. Allis,” was the very quiet reply. “I thought it might be a good thing to have the car waiting. Mayn’t I go up and telephone, myself? I think Mr. Allis ought to stay here.” Maud nodded. “It’s in my room.” And Mrs. Conway moved upstairs. She leaned over the stair-rail on the first landing and spoke to Fenwick. “Don’t destroy those other pages. If she still wants to see them, she’d better--much better.” “You don’t know what’s in them,” Fenwick answered. Nor did he, but he evidently considered they were not to be lightly treated. “It doesn’t make any difference what’s in them. Not even if it were the Black Mass.” She went on, up. We went back into the library then, and Allis stood, watch in hand, waiting. He was beginning to mean it, about breaking down the door, I could see. Allis had had a good glimpse of the first page. Fenwick had seen a little. None of the rest of us knew anything but those three first words like a telephone call: “Jack Hilles speaking.” Before Allis moved, Mrs. Medford came slowly through the drawing room, holding the sheet of paper very carefully in her hand. A little behind, Mrs. Conway’s white form gently stalked her. Fanny Medford’s poor little head was held very high. “I suppose you people have read the rest--and doubtless Mr. Fenwick has told you what is in this.” She tapped the paper. “Not one of us knows anything or has read a word,” Maud Allis declared. Allis frowned. “That’s not quite true, Maud. I saw a little--a few sentences--of what Mrs. Medford took with her. I daresay Fenwick saw as much. But no one has seen all of it except Mrs. Melford, and no one has seen any of the other sheets. That is the exact state of the case.”