talk to them there."

An hour or so later, Miss Cornelia sat in a deep chintz chair in
the comfortable living-room of the Fleming house going through the
pile of letters which Lizzie's news of domestic revolt had
prevented her reading earlier. Cook and housemaid had come and
gone--civil enough, but so obviously determined upon leaving the
house at once that Miss Cornelia had sighed and let them go, though
not without caustic comment. Since then, she had devoted herself
to calling up various employment agencies without entirely
satisfactory results. A new cook and housemaid were promised for
the end of the week--but for the next three days the Japanese
butler, Billy, and Lizzie between them would have to bear the brunt
of the service. Oh, yes--and then there's Dale's gardener, if
she gets one, thought Miss, Cornelia. "I wish he could cook--but I
don't suppose gardeners can--and Billy's a treasure. Still, its
inconvenient--now, stop--Cornelia Van Gorder--you were asking for
an adventure only this morning and the moment the littlest sort of
one comes along, you want to crawl out of it."

She had reached the bottom of her pile of letters--these to be
thrown away, these to be answered--ah, here was one she had
overlooked somehow. She took it up. It must be the one Lizzie
had wanted to throw away--she smiled at Lizzie's fears. The
address was badly typed, on cheap paper--she tore the envelope
open and drew out a single unsigned sheet.

If you stay in this house any longer--DEATH. Go back to the city
at once and save your life.