"It has been very pleasant, sir, until the last month or so," regretfully, yet evidently glad of the opportunity to talk, lingering with one hand on the knob of the door. "Since then things haven't been just the same." "In what way?" "Well, I don't exactly know, sir. Miss Natalie seems to change her mind, an' we never can please her. That's the trouble mostly. Last night I waited up until you all went to bed, an' then locked the house, the way she told me to. But that didn't suit her at all, for she stopped me on the stairs, an' made me go back an' leave the side door unlocked--just said she'd attend to that herself." "Miss Natalie told you? You are sure, Sexton?" "Oh, it was her, sir; there was a light burning in the hall, an' she was all dressed up as though she was goin' out. 'Taint the first time, either. I ain't got no right to say anything, but it puzzles me what she wants to go out for at that time o' night. And I thought maybe I ought to speak to Mr. Percival Coolidge about it." "No. I wouldn't, Sexton," said West quietly. "It would likely enough only get you into trouble. Probably she cannot sleep well, and so walks in the garden. Anyway this is none of our business, my man. Where are Miss Natalie's apartments?" "In the other wing, sir; the first door beyond the head of the stairs." "And the door you were asked to leave open?" "At the farther end of the hall." As West made no further effort to continue the conversation, but began to carelessly roll a cigarette, Sexton slipped silently through the opening, the valise in his hand, and closed the door behind him. West touched a match to the cigarette, scarcely aware of the action.