"Mrs. Minturn, I think you will thank me for telling you there is an awful row in the library," said the maid.
"'An awful row?'" Mrs. Minturn paused.
"Yes. I think they are killing Lucette," explained the maid. "She's shrieked bloody murder two or three times."
"Who? What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Minturn.
She slipped on the bathrobe she had picked up, and stood holding it together, gazing at the maid.
"Mr. Minturn came with two men. One was a park policeman we know. They went into the library and sent for Lucette. There she goes again!"
"Is there any way I could see, could hear, what is going on, without being seen?"
"There's a door to the den from the back hall, and that leads to the library," suggested the maid.
"Show me! Help me!" begged Mrs. Minturn.
As they passed the table the orchids hanging over the edge caught on the trailing robe and started to fall. Mrs. Minturn paused to push them back, then studied the flowers an instant, and catching up the bunch carried it along. She closed the den door after her without a sound, and creeping beside the wall, hid behind the door curtain and peeped into the library. There were two men who evidently were a detective and a policeman. She saw Lucette backed against the wall, her hands clenched, her eyes wild with fear. She saw her husband's back, and on the table beside him a little box, open, its wrappings near, its contents terrifying to the woman.