The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(893)

                She was thinking in this vein as she sat in the den with Irene that Saturday afternoon. The chair-girl, who sewed beautifully, was fixing over one of Mary Louise’s black dresses while Mary Louise sat opposite, listlessly watching her. The door into the hall was closed, but the glass door to the rear porch was wide open to let in the sun and air. And this simple scene was the setting for the drama about to be enacted.

                Mary Louise had her back half turned to the hall door, which Irene partially faced, and so it was that when the door opened softly and the chair-girl raised her head to gaze with startled surprise at someone who stood in the doorway, Mary Louise first curiously eyed her friend’s expressive face and then, rather languidly, turned her head to glance over her shoulder.



                             The next moment she sprang to her feet and rushed forward.

                “Gran’pa Jim—Oh, Gran’pa Jim!” she cried, and threw herself into the arms of a tall man who folded her to his breast in a close embrace.

                For a while they stood there silent, while Irene dropped her eyes to her lap, deeming the reunion   too sacred to be observed by another. And then a little stir at the open porch door attracted her attention and with a shock of repulsion she saw Agatha Lord standing there with a cynical smile on her lovely face. Softly the sash of the window was raised, and the maid Susan stood on the ground outside, leaned her elbows on the sill and quietly regarded the scene within the den.

                The opening of the window arrested Colonel Weatherby’s attention. He lifted his head and with a quick glance took in the situation. Then, still holding his granddaughter in his arms, he advanced to the center of the room and said sternly, addressing Agatha:

                “Is this a deliberate intrusion, because I am here, or is it pure insolence?”

                “Forgive us if we intrude, Mr. Hathaway,” replied Agatha. “It was not our desire to interrupt your meeting with your granddaughter, but—it has been so difficult, in the past, to secure an interview with you, sir, that we dared not risk missing you at this time.”

                He regarded her with an expression of astonishment.

                “That’s it, exactly, Mr. Weatherby-Hathaway,” remarked Susan mockingly, from her window.

                “Don’t pay any attention to them, Gran’pa Jim,” begged Mary Louise, clinging to him. “They’re just two dreadful women who live down below here, and—and—”

                “I realize who they are,” said the old gentleman in a calm voice, and addressing Agatha again he continued: “Since you are determined to interview me, pray step inside and be seated.”

                Agatha shook her head with a smile; Nan Shelley laughed outright and retorted:



                             “Not yet, Hathaway. We can’t afford to take chances with one who has dodged the whole Department for ten years.”

                “Then you are Government agents?” he asked.

                “That’s it, sir.”

                He turned his head toward the door by which he had entered, for there was an altercation going on in the hallway and Mr. Conant’s voice could be heard angrily protesting.

                A moment later the lawyer came in, followed by the little man with the fat nose, who bowed to Colonel Weatherby very respectfully yet remained planted in the doorway.

                “This is—er—er—very unfortunate, sir; ve-ry un-for-tu-nate!” exclaimed Peter Conant, chopping off each word with a sort of snarl. “These con-found-ed secret service people have trailed us here.”