Free Wall by Mary Roberts Rinehart Page A

watchman. Arthur, he said, had been there a day or two ago and had taken the boat out for a trial run. At least it had been anchored in the bay, and he had missed it when he came on duty. But he had an idea that it was back now. He could go and see. When he came back he said it was there. He could see its riding lights.
    “I wish you’d row out and see if Mr. Lloyd is aboard,” Tony said. “If he is, get him to call up his sister. Tell him it’s important.”
    I drew my first breath of the day then. My color must have come back, for Tony gave me a reassuring pat.
    “Feeling better, aren’t you?” he said. “Whatever’s happened, Arthur’s out of it. Own up, Marcia. You’ve been scared, haven’t you?”
    But I thought Tony himself seemed relieved.
    “Arthur is no killer,” I said shortly.
    “We don’t know that she has been killed, do we?”
    Less than half an hour later the telephone rang again, and Tony answered it. It was Arthur!
    Evidently he was still half asleep, for Tony accused him of it. He was wide awake enough, however, when he was told what had happened, and agreed to take the first train up. If he hurried he could make the midnight and be there by morning; and would I have a car meet him. Also would we break the news to Mary Lou before she saw it in the local papers.
    It was all like Arthur, decisive and responsible, and my sense of relief grew. I saw Tony out and, going back to the servants’ hall, told William to meet Arthur in the morning. They were all there, nervous and silent, but Jordan was not with them. I went upstairs and knocked at her door, but she would not unlock it.
    “I’m sorry, Jordan,” I said. “They haven’t found her yet. But they will very soon. They have sent for some bloodhounds.”
    “Thank you, miss.”
    I waited, but that seemed to be all, so I went away. In my own room I undressed and, putting on a bathrobe, went out onto the upper porch and stared at the bay. By one of our quick turns of weather the air was warm that night, and the tide was lapping in with small advancing waves. The pilings of the old pier showed a faint luminescence at the water line, and for all my anxiety I felt a vague sort of happiness; something I had not known since Tony and I had parted. When I went in I remember standing for some time, looking at the picture of Loon Lake.

CHAPTER VIII
    I DID NOT SLEEP THAT night. I had called Mary Lou, and the result had worried me.
    “Do you think she is dead?” she had asked, and there was a sort of suppressed hope in her voice.
    But who was I to blame her? I was sorry for Juliette, if anything had happened to her. She loved to live, had wanted to live. Nevertheless, I faced the situation as honestly as I could. If she was gone for good it meant release for all of us; an escape from the prison of the last few years. She had not left me much, either of faith or of hope, but what was left would be safe.
    Perhaps Allen Pell was right. I would be sorry, but I could not grieve.
    It was well after midnight when I thought I heard Jordan stirring and got up. Her room was quiet, however, and I did not disturb her. But while I was still up and about I had a shock. I happened to glance out a rear window, and saw someone with a flashlight down near the pond. It would show for a moment as if to direct its holder along the path, and then be snapped off. And it was gradually borne in on me that whoever carried it was moving stealthily toward the garden outside the morning room.
    Not until it was close did I raise a window and call out.
    “What is it?” I called. “What do you want?”
    There was instant silence, and the light clicked off. Whoever held it was in the shadow of the trees, and I could see nothing.
    “Whoever you are,” I said, thoroughly aroused by that time, “you are trespassing, and I shall call the police.”
    There was still no answer, but there was a cautious movement below, and by the sounds I knew that the invader was retreating.
    I