Margaret continued. "Next she says:
"Some of the servants left yesterday. I now know the cause. The rebels are threatening to take possession of the city. Ships filled with soldiers stand in the waters near by. 'Tis feared there will be a great battle soon. Madame M. is very ill. She has taken to her bed. I think great fear has made her so—and great anger. She is being cared for by the housekeeper, Mistress Phœbe. I have come to like Mistress Phœbe. She is the one soul who treats me with kindness unfailing. She, too, hates the steward. She told me so. She and the steward and one other servant are all that are left here now. The rest have fled. Would that the steward had fled also! He seems to have some urgent reason for remaining. He has had another interview with Corbie, in this house."
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Corinne, once more. "I have an idea. I am going to put down on a paper every name she mentions, no matter how insignificant, and see if they will lead us to any sort of a clue. Names are about the only clues for finding out things, when you come to think of it!" She hunted in her bag for a pencil and notebook. Then she continued:
"Now, there's 'Bermuda'—that was the first, and the only real definite thing we've discovered yet—and 'London.' Then there's 'Madame M.,' which doesn't help much. And 'Lady Blank' is no good at all, nor is 'H.' 'Corbie' may be useful, but I don't think Mistress Phœbe' will—and that's all, I guess."
"No, it isn't," contradicted Margaret. "You forgot the 'Lass of Richmond Hill'!"
"True enough! Of course that's only the name of a song, but I'll put it down. Who knows but what it may be the most important of all! I have a book of old songs at home, and I have just a faint idea that there's one of that name in it. I'll hunt it up to-night. But as usual, it's late, and I must be hurrying along. Haven't you read about all you've puzzled out, Margaret?"
"I've done another entry," replied Margaret, slowly and mysteriously, "and perhaps you'd better hear it. It may be worth your while!"
"Oh, what is it?" cried Corinne, pausing in the act of adjusting her hat. "Quick!"
"Here it is: