say good-night then.'
Nan said, 'Oh,' as if to protest something, but not sure what.
'Where's he going?' the old lady said. 'He hasn't had his tea. Did you know Christy, young man?'
'No, ma'am,' said Johnny gently. 'I only wanted to know about her.'
'Then sit down,' she said. 'I'll tell you about her.' 'Mother,' said Blanche.
'Oh, be still,' said the old lady promptly. It was obvious that she liked to be opposed to Blanche. 'I haven't thought of Christy . . . Yes, I did. I thought of Christy only last night. Poor child. She was killed in this house.' Her face had no horror in it. Not any more, at least. 'Right here in this house,' she said.
'I know,' said Johnny swiftly. He could teU that Nan shrank closer to Dick. He could tell that Blanche was sending eye-beams to her husband. Blanche twisted her hands. Dick Bartee neither moved nor spoke.
'It was that husband of hers that did it,' said the old lady vigorously, 'That awful man. I never liked him, from the first. I said to Bart—my husband, I mean—that I
couldn't think of letting Christy go oflF with that awful man. And Nathaniel agreed with me.' Her head nodded. The soft flesh of her face shook.
'What was wrong with him?' Johnny asked.
Dick Bartee sat quietly. But he was alert, Johnny thought. Perhaps he always was. Perhaps he had the animal quality of alertness to danger at all times.
'Oh, that McCauley was a drunkard, you know,' said the old lady, 'and he was always out 'til all hours of the night, drinking, you know. And then he used to see that dreadful woman. He wasn't the kind of man for Christy at all.'
Bart spoke. 'Mother, do you realize this man wants material for a book?'
'A book about ChristyP The old lady's face Ht. 'Well, somebody should put in a book how sweet and pretty she was and what that awful man did to her.' The old lady was waxing garrulous. 'I remember all about it and, if he wants to know, I am the one to tell him. Not another one of you was here.'
'I wish you would tell me,' Johnny dared murmur.
Blanche said, in a kind of moan, 'Bart, please dori't let^ her ...'-•
'Let me?' The old lady bristled. 'Christy was my granddaughter. Not another one of you is related to her. You come over here. What's your name, young man?'
Dick Bartee said mildly, ''He's going to get all this somewhere, Blanche. Let Grandma have the fun.' He put his arm around Nan where they sat, side by side, and seemed to work himself more comfortably into the upholstery. Nan looked into his face with trust and pleasure.
Johnny moved to another chair.
The old lady began to talk. The past was far more vivid to her than the present. She was enjoying this. 'Christy was a dear, dear girl, you see, and we all loved her. But when that man came, he was so surly about everything. He behaved so badly. Well, we had gone to bed, you see, and I woke. I could hear them quarreling. Downstairs. Christy and Clinton. I could hear him growling and muttering. I woke my husband. By the time he was fully awake the voices had stopped. But I made him get up. Bart had a gun and he took that . . .'
'Why?' said Johnny.
''Why? Why, because there were people quarrelmg.'
'A man and his wife?'
'It was the middle of the night,' she said. 'And Bart was quite right to take the gun. Youll see. He went down and there she was. That McCauley—Clinton was his name— I never hked him. He had hit her with a big heavy candlestick. Oh, it was wicked! And he was drunk. He had opened the safe. He had stolen her pretty pin. He was a wicked man I'
'The pins had been yours, ma'am?' asked Johnny.
'Yes, Francis gave them to me before we were married and that was surely a long time ago. I haven't thought of Frank—'
'Your first husband?'
'Yes. He was my first husband.'
'And you gave the other pin to your stepson Nathaniel?'
'To Josephine. Nathaniel didn't realize . . .'
'Reahze what, ma'am?'
The old lady's face sagged. Her lids drooped. She seemed to have suddenly gone to sleep.
'What are you trying to do, Sims?' said Bart quietly. 'It was all gone into thoroughly at the time. As you should know. You've evidently read up on it. I think you've got what you came for, haven't you? Thanks to my seventy- nine-year-old mother.' His voice was cold.
'I'm tired,' said the old lady crossly.
'Of course you are,' said Blanche and sprang up to the handles of the chair.
Nathaniel didn't reahze,' Johnny said, rising, 'but you ... ?'
'I understood,' the old lady said, openiag her eyes. 'You come see me again, young man.'
'I wiU.'
