THE MAN WITH THE DARK BEARD (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
name?" debated Hilary. "Why, Taylor, of course. We always call her Taylor. Oh, you mean her Christian name. Well, Mary Ann, I think. And we had excellent references with her. She is quite a good maid. I have no fault to find with her."
"She doesn't look like a Mary Ann Taylor," sniffed Miss Lavinia. "One of your Dorothys or Mabels or Veras, I should have said. She is after your father—casting the glad eye you call it nowadays."
"After Dad!" Indignation was rendering Hilary almost speechless.
"Dear me, yes, your father," Miss Lavinia repeated with some asperity. "He won't be the first man to be made a fool of by a pretty face, even if it does belong to one of his maids. And this particular girl is making herself very amiable to him. I have watched her. By the way, where is your father tonight? He is generally out of the consulting-room by this time, and I want a word with him before bed-time. That is why I came after dinner."
"He is rather late," Hilary said; "but he had ever so many people to see before dinner, and I dare say he has had more writing to do since in consequence."
"That secretary of his gone home, I suppose?"
"Miss Houlton? Oh, yes. She goes home at seven. But really, Aunt Lavinia, she is a nice, quiet girl. Dad likes her."
Miss Lavinia snorted.
"Dare say he does. As he likes your delightful parlourmaid, I suppose. In my young days men didn't have girls to wait on them. They had men secretaries and what not. But nowadays they have as many women as they can afford. Believe it would be more respectable to call it a harem at once!"
Hilary laughed.
"Oh, Aunt Lavinia! The girls and men of the present day aren't like that. They don't think of such things."
"Nonsense!" Miss Lavinia snapped her fingers. "Short skirts and backless frocks haven't altered human nature!"
"Haven't they?" Hilary questioned with a smile. "But we will send for Dad, Aunt Lavinia. He always enjoys a chat with you."
"Not always, I fancy," Miss Lavinia said grimly. "However, he gets a few whether he enjoys them or not."
As she finished the parlourmaid opened the door. She was looking nervous and worried.
"Oh, Miss Hilary—" she began. "The doctor—"
"Well?" interrupted Miss Lavinia "What of the doctor?"
"He is in the consulting-room, ma'am, but he doesn't take any notice when we knock at the door. Mr. Wilton and I have both been trying."
"What are you making such a fuss about?" said Miss Lavinia contemptuously. "The doctor doesn't want to be disturbed. That is all."
The maid stood her ground, and again addressed Hilary:
"I have never known the doctor lock the door on the inside before, miss."
"Well, of course, if it was locked on the outside, he would not be there," Miss Lavinia rejoined sensibly. "I'll go and knock. He'll answer me, I'll warrant."
Hilary was looking rather white.
"I will come too, Aunt Lavinia. Dad often sits up late over his research work. But he promised me he wouldn't to-night. It was my birthday yesterday and he had to go out, so he said he would come in for a chat quite early this evening."
Miss Lavinia was already in the hall.
"I expect the chat would have been a lively one from the few words I had with him when I came in. Well, what are you doing?"
This question was addressed to Basil Wilton, who was standing at the end of the passage leading to the consulting-room.
Like the parlourmaid, he was looking pale and worried. Miss Lavinia's quick eyes noted that his tie was twisted to one side and that his hair, short as it was, was rumpled up as if he had been thrusting his hands through it.
"There is an urgent summons for the doctor on the phone, and we can't make him hear," he said uneasily.
"I dare say he has gone out by the door on the garden side," Miss Lavinia said briskly. "Yes, of course that is how it would be. Locked the door on this side and gone off the other way to see some patient."
"That door is locked too," Wilton said doubtfully. "And the doctor has never done such a thing before."
"Bless my life! There must be a first time for everything," Miss Lavinia rejoined testily. "Don't look so scared, Mr. Wilton. I'll go to the door. If he is in, he will answer me, and if he isn't—well, we shall just have to wait."
She pushed past Wilton. Shrugging his shoulders, he followed her down the passage.
There were no half measures with Miss Lavinia. Her knock at the door was loud enough to rouse the house, but there came no response from within the room.
Meanwhile quite a little crowd was collecting behind her—Wilton, Hilary and a couple of the servants.
"Nobody there, anyhow," she observed. "That knock would have fetched the doctor if he had been in. Come, Hilary, it is no use standing here gaping."
She turned to stride back to the morning-room, when the parlourmaid interposed:
"I beg your pardon, ma'am. I think—I'm afraid the doctor is there."
Miss Lavinia stared at her.
"What do you mean? If the doctor were there he would have answered me."
The maid hesitated a moment, her face very white. As she looked at her even Miss Lavinia's weather-beaten countenance seemed to catch the reflection of her pallor. It turned a curious greenish grey.
"What do you mean?" she repeated.
"I have been into the garden, ma'am. I remembered that the blind in the consulting-room did not fit very well, and I went and looked through. The light was on and I could see—I think—I am sure that I could see the doctor sitting on the revolving chair before his table. His head is bent down on his arms."
"Then he must have fainted—or—or something," Miss Lavinia said, her strident tones strangely subdued. "Don't look so scared, Hilary; I don't suppose it is anything serious."
Wilton touched Hilary, who was leaning against the wall.
"We shall have to break the door in, dear. And you must not stay here; we shall want all the room we can get."
"Break the door in!" Miss Lavinia ejaculated in scornful accents. "Why, Mr. Wilton, you will be suggesting sliding down through the chimney next! Go to this window in the garden that you have just heard of. If it is closed—and I expect it is, for doctors are a great deal fonder of advising other people to keep their windows open than of doing it themselves—smash a pane, put your hand in and unlatch it, and pull the sash up. It will be easy enough then."
"Perhaps that will be best," Wilton assented doubtfully.
"Of course it will be best," Miss Lavinia said briskly. "You stay here, Hilary. We will open the door to you in a minute Come along, Mr. Wilton."
She almost pushed the young man before her down the passage and out at the surgery door. That opened on to the street, and a few steps farther on was a green door in the high wall which surrounded the doctor's garden. That was unfastened. As Miss Lavinia pushed it open she raised her eyebrows.
"Anybody could come in here, burgle the house and leave you very little the wiser," she remarked with a glance at Wilton.
"Yes; but it isn't generally left open like this," he said as he closed it behind them. "It is always kept locked by Dr. Bastow's orders unless anything is wanted for the garden—coal for the greenhouse, or manure."
But Miss Lavinia was not attending to him. She broke into a run as they emerged from the little shrubbery and began to cross the narrow strip of grass that lay between it and the house. On the farther side of this, immediately under the windows, there was a broad gravel path.
Miss Lavinia hurried across