The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(291)

                “I found it lying with a pair of gloves tucked inside it on an otherwise empty shelf in the dining-room closet. It struck me as looking too new for a discarded hat of either of the Misses Van Burnam. What do you think?”

                “Let me take it,” said I.

                “O, it’s been worn,” he smiled, “several times. And the hat-pin is in it, too.”

                “There is something else I wish to see.”

                He handed it over.

                “I think it belongs to one of them,” I declared. “It was made by La Mole of Fifth Avenue, whose prices are simply—wicked.”

                “But the young ladies have been gone—let me see—five months. Could this have been bought before then?”

                “Possibly, for this is an imported hat. But why should it have been left lying about in that careless way? It cost twenty dollars, if not thirty, and if for any reason its owner decided not to take it with her, why didn’t she pack it away properly? I have no patience with the modern girl; she is made up of recklessness and extravagance.”

                “I hear that the young ladies are staying with you,” was his suggestive remark.



                             “They are.”

                “Then you can make some inquiries about this hat; also about the gloves, which are an ordinary street pair.”

                “Of what color?”

                “Grey; they are quite fresh, size six.”

                “Very well; I will ask the young ladies about them.”

                “This third room is used as a dining-room, and the closet where I found them is one in which glass is kept. The presence of this hat there is a mystery, but I presume the Misses Van Burnam can solve it. At all events, it is very improbable that it has anything to do with the crime which has been committed here.”

                “Very,” I coincided.

                “So improbable,” he went on, “that on second thoughts I advise you not to disturb the young ladies with questions concerning it unless further reasons for doing so become apparent.”

                “Very well,” I returned. But I was not deceived by his second thoughts.

                As he was holding open the parlor door before me in a very significant way, I tied my veil under my chin, and was about to leave when he stopped me.

                “I have another favor to ask,” said he, and this time with his most benignant smile. “Miss Butterworth, do you object to sitting up for a few nights till twelve o’clock?”

                “Not at all,” I returned, “if there is any good reason for it.”

                “At twelve o’clock tonight a gentleman will enter this house. If you will note him from your window I will be obliged.”

                “To see whether he is the same one I saw last night? Certainly I will take a look, but—”

                “Tomorrow night,” he went on, imperturbably, “the test will be repeated, and I should like to have you take another look; without prejudice, madam; remember, without prejudice.”

                “I have no prejudices—” I began.