Mary Roberts Rinehart & Avery Hopwood by The Bat Page A

producing a single shiver from Billy. He set down the tray and
was about to go as silently as he had come when Miss Cornelia spoke to
him on impulse.
    "Billy, what's all this about the cook's sister not having twins?" she
said in an offhand voice. She had not really discussed the departure
of the other servants with Billy before. "Did you happen to know that
this interesting event was anticipated?"
    Billy drew in his breath with a polite hiss. "Maybe she have twins,"
he admitted. "It happen sometime. Mostly not expected."
    "Do you think there was any other reason for her leaving?"
    "Maybe," said Billy blandly.
    "Well, what was the reason?"
    "All say the same thing—house haunted." Billy's reply was prompt as
it was calm.
    Miss Cornelia gave a slight laugh. "You know better than that, though,
don't you?"
    Billy's Oriental placidity remained unruffled. He neither admitted nor
denied. He shrugged his shoulders.
    "Funny house," he said laconically. "Find window open—nobody there.
Door slam—nobody there!"
    On the heels of his words came a single, startling bang from the
kitchen quarters—the bang of a slammed door!

Chapter Five - Alopecia and Rubeola
*
    Miss Cornelia dropped her newspaper. Lizzie, frankly frightened, gave
a little squeal and moved closer to her mistress. Only Billy remained
impassive but even he looked sharply in the direction whence the sound
had come.
    Miss Cornelia was the first of the others to recover her poise.
    "Stop that! It was the wind!" she said, a little irritably—the "Stop
that!" addressed to Lizzie who seemed on the point of squealing again.
    "I think not wind," said Billy. His very lack of perturbation added
weight to the statement. It made Miss Cornelia uneasy. She took out
her knitting again.
    "How long have you lived in this house, Billy?"
    "Since Mr. Fleming built."
    "H'm." Miss Cornelia pondered. "And this is the first time you have
been disturbed?"
    "Last two days only." Billy would have made an ideal witness in a
courtroom. He restricted himself so precisely to answering what was
asked of him in as few words as possible.
    Miss Cornelia ripped out a row in her knitting. She took a deep breath.
    "What about that face Lizzie said you saw last night at the window?"
she asked in a steady voice.
    Billy grinned, as if slightly embarrassed. "Just face—that's all."
    "A—man's face?"
    He shrugged again.
    "Don't know—maybe. It there! It gone!"
    Miss Cornelia did not want to believe him—but she did. "Did you go
out after it?" she persisted.
    Billy's yellow grin grew wider. "No thanks," he said cheerfully with
ideal succinctness.
    Lizzie, meanwhile, had stood first on one foot and then on the other
during the interrogation, terror and morbid interest fighting in her
for mastery. Now she could hold herself in no longer.
    "Oh, Miss Neily!" she exploded in a graveyard moan, "last night when
the lights went out I had a token! My oil lamp was full of oil but, do
what I would, it kept going out, too—the minute I shut my eyes out
that lamp would go. There ain't a surer token of death! The Bible
says, 'Let your light shine'—and when a hand you can't see puts your
lights out—good night!"
    She ended in a hushed whisper and even Billy looked a trifle
uncomfortable after her climax.
    "Well, now that you've cheered us up," began Miss Cornelia undauntedly,
but a long, ominous roll of thunder that rattled the panes in the
French windows drowned out the end of her sentence. Nevertheless she
welcomed the thunder as a diversion. At least its menace was a
physical one—to be guarded against by physical means.
    She rose and went over to the French windows. That flimsy bolt! She
parted the curtains and looked out—a flicker of lightning stabbed the
night—the storm must be almost upon them.
    "Bring some candles, Billy," she said. "The lights may be going out
any moment—and Billy," as he started to leave, "there's a gentleman
arriving on the last train. After he comes you may go to bed. I'll
wait up