Part 18 (1/2)

”I'm glad you think so, because that's where it comes from.”

At this point Peter remembered his mission, which Beth's appearance had driven from his mind.

”I'll play for you sometime,” he said.

He went past her and out to the servants' dining-room. As he entered with Beth at his heels, Mrs. Bergen, the housekeeper, turned in from the open door to the kitchen garden, clinging to the jamb, her lips mumbling, as though she were continuing a conversation. But her round face, usually the color and texture of a well ripened peach, was the color of putty, and seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard. Her eyes through her metal-rimmed spectacles seemed twice their size and stared at Peter as though they saw through him and beyond. She faltered at the door-jamb and then with an effort reached a chair, into which she sank gasping.

Beth was kneeling at her side in a moment, looking up anxiously into her startled eyes.

”Why, what is it, Aunt Tillie?” she whispered quickly. ”What it is? Tell me.”

The coincidence was too startling. Could the same Thing that had frightened McGuire have frightened the housekeeper too? Peter rushed past her and out of the open door. It was dark outside and for a moment he could see nothing. Then objects one by one a.s.serted themselves, the orderly rows of vegetable plants in the garden, the wood-box by the door, the shrubbery at the end of the portico, the blue spruce tree opposite, the loom of the dark and noncommittal garage. He knew that one of his men was in the trees opposite the side porch and another around the corner of the kitchen, in the hedge, but he did not want to raise a hue and cry unless it was necessary. What was this Thing that created terror at sight? He peered this way and that, aware of an intense excitement, in one hand his revolver and in the other his police whistle. But he saw no object move, and the silence was absolute. In a moment--disappointed--he hurried back to the servants' dining-room.

Mrs. Bergen sat dazed in her chair, while Beth, who had brought her a gla.s.s of water, was making her drink of it.

”Tell me, what is it?” Beth was insisting.

”Nothing--nothing,” murmured the woman.

”But there is----”

”No, dearie----”

”Are you sick?”

”I don't feel right. Maybe--the heat----”

”But your eyes look queer----”

”Do they----?” The housekeeper tried to smile.

”Yes. Like they had seen----”

A little startled as she remembered the mystery of the house, Beth cast her glance into the darkness outside the open door.

”You _are_--frightened!” she said.

”No, no----”

”What was it you saw, Mrs. Bergen,” asked Peter gently.

He was just at her side and at the sound of his voice she half arose, but recognizing Peter she sank back in her chair.

Peter repeated his question, but she shook her head.

”Won't you tell us? What was it you saw? A man----?”

Her eyes sought Beth's and a look of tenderness came into them, banis.h.i.+ng the vision. But she lied when she answered Peter's question.

”I saw nothin', Mr. Nichols--I think I'll go up----”