hide behind me."

The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive scale.
Wherever possible, on the first floor, the architect had done
away with partitions, using arches and columns instead. The
effect was cool and spacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and I
went from one window to another, our voices echoed back at us
uncomfortably. There was plenty of light--the electric plant
down in the village supplied us--but there were long vistas of
polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us from unexpected
corners, until I felt some of Liddy's foolishness communicate
itself to me.

The house was very long, a rectangle in general form, with the
main entrance in the center of the long side. The brick-paved
entry opened into a short hall to the right of which, separated
only by a row of pillars, was a huge living-room. Beyond that
was the drawing-room, and in the end, the billiard-room. Off
the billiard-room, in the extreme right wing, was a den, or
card-room, with a small hall opening on the east veranda, and
from there went up a narrow circular staircase. Halsey had
pointed it out with delight.

"Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The
architect that put up this joint was wise to a few things.
Arnold Armstrong and his friends could sit here and play cards
all night and stumble up to bed in the early morning, without
having the family send in a police call."

Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the