at Johnny. He seemed to have taken her fancy.
Bart, Jr., was a man about forty, Johnny surmised. Not tall, not big, but well made. He had an air of competent authority. Blanche's age he could not guess, except that she was not a young girl and not an old lady. She struggled to say what a gracious hostess ought to say while the old lady waited to pounce rudely. Johnny could sense strain.
Blanche was saying now, to Dorothy, 'You must stay with us, of course. There is plenty of room.'
'Who is she?' said the old lady crossly.
'I am Dorothy Padgett, Nan's cousin,' said Dorothy promptly. 'I should have phoned, I know, but I caught a ride with Johnny at the last minute. It's very kind of you,' said Dorothy directly to the old lady, 'to ask me to stay.'
The old lady nodded. 'Not at all,' she said, looking pleased with herself.
Dorothy sent a smile of apology to Blanche, who merely looked patient. Bart was watching Dorothy with pleasure— and, perhaps, surprise.
'How nice,' said Blanche to Johnny, 'that business brought you down.'
'I'd better tell you what my business is.' Johnny put the glass, whose contents he had not tasted, cai-efully down on the little table beside his chair.
'Matter of fact,' interrupted Dick Bartee, 'it is a good thing you two are here. There may be a wedding soon. You'll want to attend.' He cast a lover's look at Nan, beside liim. Nan was demure, tucked in, belonging.
'Nan isn't,' said Dorothy, 'going to get married without me around. We are all the Padgetts left.'
Blanche began to make sympathetic sounds. It was all pleasant, poHte, genteel. And Johnny was here to destroy this mood.
He broke in again as soon as he could. 'Have you ever heard of Roderick Grimes?'
Blanche's face, a paler bronze than her hair, put on a frown. 'It does sound familiar.'
'He writes books,' Johnny told them.
'That's right, he does,' said Dick. 'About murder.'
The Bartee heads turned. Johnny knew one word had destroyed the mood.
'Right. I do some leg-work for him on occasion. He's given me a chore, this time, that brought me here. I am to talk to a few people about the McCauley case.'
Johnny heard Blanche's breath catch. If Bart's smooth face gave any sign, Johnny missed it. He was noticing the twitch of Dick Bartee's full mouth. The glance of those gray eyes seemed to rest on Johnny's face, not probing, but coolly resting.
'You can't mean Christy!' said Blanche with dismay.
'I'm afraid I do, Mrs. Bartee,' said Johnny. 'You see, Grimes ...'
'I know about him. He v^rites up those things,' said Dick in a pleasantly informative voice. 'Puts them in books.'
Nan said from her snug place next to Dick, 'Who is Christy?'
'Christy McCauley,' said the old lady. Crumbs fell from the comer of her mouth. 'Poor Christy McCauley.'
'Christy,' said Blanche in an aside to Nan, 'was Mother Bartee's granddaughter.' -'•
'Nelly's little girl,' said the old lady. 'My only daughter's only daughter, I used to say.'
Blanche looked at her vdth alarm. Johnny thought he could read the thought in her bronze head. The old lady ought to be gotten out of the room. It was so vjvid an impression that Johnny found himself waiting for this to be ac-comphshed.
But Bart said sharply, 'This man Grimes wants to write up that story?'
'It depends on what I can report to him,' said Johnny. 'He is interested in old cases that lend themselves to his kind of recapitulation.'
'And what is that?' asked Bart sternly.
Johnny said gently, 'If it makes an interesting story, sir.'
'I don't think,' said Blanche, 'that it is anything we want at all. How can he do this without having consulted the— the family?' Blanche flicked a nervous look at the old lady who, still as a lizard, was watching her balefully.
Dick said, 'It was news. As such, I guess it belongs to the pubhc. Am I right, John?'
He was easy. He spoke sensibly. Johnny thought that if he had killed Christy McCauley, this was as nerveless a killer as ever was.
Johnny said, 'Whatever wasn't in the newspapers. Grimes handles very carefully.' He took up the glass. It had become a kind of symbol. If they reacted with any kind of permission, Johnny would become their guest. Then he could drink it.
Nan said wonderingly to Dorothy, 'Did you know about this?'
Dorothy said softly, 'It's just Johnny's job.' 'Do you propose to talk to us?' asked Bart. 'I had hoped to.' The drink remained untouched. 'About Christyl' Blanche ran her tongue along her lip. 'You don't seem to reahze, Mr. Sims, just what you are asking. You came here . . /'
Nan looked from face to face. Bart exuded silent chill. Johnny put his drink down again. 'I beg your pardon,' he said, 'if I have seemed to come into the house under false pretenses. It is just a job I have to do.' He got up. 'I'll
