He had already turned the electricity into his grill. The ruddy steak--salted, peppered, with tiny flakes of garlic upon it--he brought from his own little icebox. The appetizing odor of the meat sharpened Helen's appetite even as she sipped the first of her coffee. "I'll just _have_ to eat some, I expect, Mr. Lawdor," she said. Then she had a sudden thought, and added: "Or perhaps you'd like to save this tidbit for the little old lady in the attic?" Mr. Lawdor turned--not suddenly; he never did anything with suddenness; but it was plain she had startled him. "Bless me, Miss--bless me--bless me----" He trailed off in his usual shaky way; but his lips were white and he stared at Helen like an owl for a full minute. Then he added: "Is there a lady in the attic, Miss?" And he said it in his most polite way. "Of course there is, Mr. Lawdor; and you know it. Who is she? I am only curious." "I--I hear the maids talking about a ghost, Miss--foolish things----" "And I'm not foolish, Mr. Lawdor," said the Western girl, laughing shortly. "Not that way, at least. I heard her; last night I saw her. Next time I'm going to speak to her--Unless it isn't allowed." "It--it isn't allowed, Miss," said Lawdor, speaking softly, and with a glance at the closed door of the room. "Nobody has forbidden _me_ to speak to her," declared Helen, boldly. "And I'm curious--mighty curious, Mr. Lawdor. Surely she is a nice old lady--there is nothing the matter with her?" The butler touched his forehead with a shaking finger. "A little wrong there, Miss," he whispered. "But Mary Boyle is as innocent and harmless as a baby herself." "Can't you tell me about her--who she is--why she lives up there--and all?" "Not here, Miss." "Why not?" demanded Helen, boldly. "It might offend Mr. Starkweather, Miss. Not that he has anything to do with Mary Boyle. He had to take the old house with her in it." "What _do_ you mean, Lawdor?" gasped Helen, growing more and more amazed and--naturally--more and more curious. The butler flopped the steak suddenly upon the sizzling hot plate and in another moment the delicious bit was before her. The old man served her as expertly as ever, but his face was working strangely. "I couldn't tell you here, Miss. Walls have ears, they say," he whispered. "But if you'll be on the first bench beyond the Sixth Avenue entrance to Central Park at ten o'clock this morning, I will meet you there. "Yes, Miss--the rolls. Some more butter, Miss? I hope the coffee is to your taste, Miss?" "It is all very delicious, Lawdor," said Helen, rather weakly, and feeling somewhat confused. "I will surely be there. I shall not need to come back for the regular breakfast after having this nice bit."