with many veils and scarves and jewels—and a turban with waving feathers?”
“White Paradise feathers?” asked an excited girl. “There was only one costume like that!”
“Yes,” and “I remember it!” and such assents fell from the lips of many.
The startled, huddled crowd, with ordinary human curiosity, strove to get nearer the door of the little smoking den, and the men who hurried to carry out the doctor’s orders pushed through as best they could.
Henry Post and Kate Vallon met these messengers in the hall downstairs.
“Where is Mr. Locke?” one said, as the other went for the policeman.
“I haven’t found him yet,” Post replied. “He must be about somewhere.”
“We must find him—they’ve called the police.”
“The police!” Kate exclaimed, “oh, what for?”
“I—I don’t know exactly—but nobody must leave the house.”
“Indeed we will leave the house!” Kate said. “Henry, I shall take Pearl Jane away at once. That child shan’t be mixed up in any police affair! You stay here, Henry, and find Tommy, and see the thing through. I’ll find Pearl Jane and take her home.”
“Better not,” the young man advised. He was a lawyer named Jarvis, and he seemed to speak with authority,
“Why?” asked Kate.
“It’s a pretty grave matter to leave a house where a mysterious death has occurred—after you’re ordered not to.”
“But that’s only Doctor Gannett’s order. Not the law.”
“You’d better stay,” Jarvis advised. “You’ll be interviewed
