I suppose I sort of groaned, for I felt Worth put a restraining hand on my arm, and heard his soft, "Psst!" The two of us stood, how long I can't say, something besides the beauty of the young creature, even the dignity of her in this outré situation getting hold of me, so that I was almost reverent when at last the rigidity of her image-like figure began to relax, the pretty feet in their silk stockings and smart pumps appeared where they belonged, side by side on the edge of the planking, and she looked at us with eyes that slowly gathered their normal expression, and a smile of rare human sweetness. "It _is_ horrid to see--and I loathe doing it!" She shook her curly dark head like a punished child, and stayed a minute longer, eyes downcast, groping after gloves and hat. "I thought maybe I'd get the answer before you saw me--sitting up like a trained seal!" "Like a mighty pretty little heathen idol, Bobs," Worth amended. "Well, it's the only way I can really concentrate--effectively. But this is the first time I've done it since--since father died." "And never again for me, if that's the way you feel about it." Worth crossed quickly and stood beside her, looking down. She reached a hand to him; her eyes thanked him; but as he helped her to her feet I was struck by a something poised and confident that she seemed to have brought with her out of that strange state in which she had just been. "Doesn't either of you want to hear the answer?" she asked. Then, without waiting for reply, she started for the scuttle and the ladder, bare headed, carrying her hat. We found her once more adjusting turban and veil before the mirror of Clayte's dresser. She faced around, and announced, smiling steadily across at me, "Your man Clayte left this room while Mrs. Griggsby was kneeling almost on its threshold--left it by that window over there. He got to the roof by means of a rope and grappling hook. He tied the suitcase to the lower end of the rope, swung it out of the window, went up hand over hand, and pulled the suitcase up after him. That's the answer I got." It was? Well, it was a beaut! Only Worth Gilbert, standing there giving the proceeding respectability by careful attention and a grave face, brought me down to asking with mild jocularity, "He did? He did all that? Well, please ma'am, who locked the window after him?" "He locked the window after himself." "Oh, say!" I began in exasperation--hadn't I just shown the impractical little creature that those locks couldn't be manipulated from outside? "Wait. Examine carefully the wooden part of the upper sash, at the lock--again," she urged, but without making any movement to help. "You'll find what we overlooked before; the way he locked the sash from the outside."