“Oh, tra la la,” trilled Zizi, and nonchalantly turned away.
“Now for the Room with the Tassels,” said Wise, and led the way to the fateful room.
“Ghastly, ghostly and grisly!” he declared after a quick survey, “but no entrance except by door or windows.”
“And they were locked every time the room was slept in by any of our party,” announced the Professor, positively.
“That makes it easier,” smiled Wise. “You see, I feared secret panels and that sort of thing,—not uncommon in old houses. But you’ve found none?”
“None,” asseverated Landon. “If your theory of a human ‘ghost’ is right, you’ve got to account for the forcing of the big bolts of those front doors or——”
“Or suspect some of your household,” concluded Wise, practically. “Well, I haven’t suspected any one as yet; I’m just absorbing facts, on which to base my theories. Now, for the drawing room.”
The long sombre, old-fashioned room received scant examination.
“Nothing doing, Zizi?” said Wise, briefly.
“Only a Bad Taste Exhibition,” the girl remarked, making a wry face at the ornate decorations and appointments. Then, with her peculiar, gliding motion, she slid across the hall again, and examined the knob and lock on the door of the Room with the Tassels.