secret tragedy and then fallen again. When Billy returned with the
front door key she was as impassive as he was.

"Has the new gardener come yet?"

"He here," said Billy stolidly. "Name Brook."

She was entirely herself once more when Billy, departing, held the
door open wide--to admit Miss Cornelia Van Gorder and a tall,
strong-featured man, quietly dressed, with reticent, piercing eyes
--the detective!

Dale's first conscious emotion was one of complete surprise. She
had expected a heavy-set, blue-jowled vulgarian with a black cigar,
a battered derby, and stubby policeman's shoes. "Why this man's a
gentleman!" she thought. "At least he looks like one--and yet--
you can tell from his face he'd have as little mercy as a steel trap
for anyone he had to--catch--" She shuddered uncontrollably.

"Dale, dear," said Miss Cornelia with triumph in her voice. "This
is Mr. Anderson."

The newcomer bowed politely, glancing at her casually and then
looking away. Miss Cornelia, however, was obviously in fine feather
and relishing to the utmost the presence of a real detective in the
house.

"This is the room I spoke of," she said briskly. "All the
disturbances have taken place around that terrace door."