"I don't know," and Ariadne began to cry. "Stop that," said Mrs. Reeves, gruffly, but not unkindly. "Stay if you want to, Ariadne, but behave like a sensible woman, not a silly schoolgirl. This is an awful tragedy, of some sort." "What do you mean, of some sort?" asked Miss Gale. "I mean we don't know what revelations are yet to come. Where's Norman Steele? Where's the man who brought this Somers here?" Sure enough, where was Steele? I had forgotten all about him. And it was he who had introduced Somers to the Van Allen house, and no one else present, so far as I knew, was previously acquainted with the man now lying dead the other side of that closed door. I looked over the people who had stayed. Only a handful--perhaps half a dozen. And then I wondered if I'd better go home myself. Not for my own sake, in any way; indeed, I preferred to remain, but I thought of Aunt Lucy and Win. Ought I to bring on them any shadow of trouble or opprobrium that might result from my presence in that house at that time? Would it not be better to go while I could do so? For, once the police took charge, I knew I should be called on to testify in public. And even as I debated with myself, the police arrived. CHAPTER III THE WAITER'S STORY Doctor Remson's police call had been imperative, and Inspector Mason came in with two men. "What's this? What's wrong here?" the big burly inspector said, as he faced the few of us who had remained. "Come in here, inspector," said the doctor, from the dining-room door. And from that moment the whole aspect of the house seemed to change. No longer a gay little bijou residence, it became a court of justice. One of the men was stationed at the street door and one at the area door below. Headquarters was notified of details. The coroner was summoned, and we were all for the moment under detention. "Where is Miss Van Allen? Where is the lady of the house?" asked Mason. "Where are the servants? Who is in charge here?" Was ever a string of questions so impossible of answers! Doctor Remson told the main facts, but he was reticent. I, too, hesitated to say much, for the case was strange indeed. Mrs. Reeves looked gravely concerned, but said nothing. Ariadne Gale began to babble. That girl didn't know how to be quiet. "I guess Miss Van Allen is upstairs," she volunteered. "She was in the dining-room, but she isn't here now, so she must be upstairs. Shall I go and see?" "No!" thundered the inspector. "Stay where you are. Search the house, Breen. I'll cover the street door." The man he called Breen went upstairs on the jump, and Mason continued. "Tell the story, one of you. Who is this man? Who killed him?" As he talked, the inspector was examining Somers' body, making rapid notes in a little book, keeping his eye on the door, and darting quick glances at each of us, as he tried to grasp the situation.