“I was passing in the motor,” she said, and I honestly think she hoped I would believe her, “and I saw that am--” She stopped and began again. “I thought Jim was out of town, and I came to see Takahiro,” she said brazenly. “He was devoted to me, and Evans is going to leave. I’ll tell you what to do, Kit. I’ll go back to the dining room, and you send Taka there. If any one comes, I can slip into the pantry.” “It’s immoral,” I protested. “It’s immoral to steal your--” “My own butler!” she broke in impatiently. “You’re not usually so scrupulous, Kit. Hurry! I hear that hateful Anne Brown.” So we slid back along the hall, and I rang for Takahiro. But no one came. “I think I ought to tell you, Bella,” I said as we waited, and Bella was staring around the room--“I think you ought to know that Miss Caruthers is here.” Bella shrugged her shoulders. “Well, thank goodness,” she said, “I don’t have to see her. The only pleasant thing I remember about my year of married life is that I did NOT meet Aunt Selina.” I rang again, but still there was no answer. And then it occurred to me that the stillness below stairs was almost oppressive. Bella was noticing things, too, for she began to fasten her veil again with a malicious little smile. “One of the things I remember my late husband saying,” she observed, “was that HE could manage this house, and had done it for years, with flawless service. Stand on the bell, Kit.” I did. We stood there, with the table, just as it had been left, between us, and waited for a response. Bella was growing impatient. She raised her eyebrows (she is very handsome, Bella is) and flung out her chin as if she had begun to enjoy the horrible situation. I thought I heard a rattle of silver from the pantry just then, and I hurried to the door in a rage. But the pantry was empty of servants and full of dishes, and all the lights were out but one, which was burning dimly. I could have sworn that I saw one of the servants duck into the stairway to the basement, but when I got there the stairs were empty, and something was burning in the kitchen below. Bella had followed me and was peering over my shoulder curiously. “There isn’t a servant in the house,” she said triumphantly. And when we went down to the kitchen, she seemed to be right. It was in disgraceful order, and one of the bottles of wine that had ben banished from the dining room sat half empty on the floor.