The dinner to which he sat down seemed to Bruce a very grand affair. It was served in a large, square room, wainscoted in dark wood and furnished in a rich, simple and tasteful fashion. The round table was covered with a white damask cloth of beautiful texture and the glass and silver seemed to have been polished with wonderful care. Colored wax candles with silk shades shed a soft light. Besides Mr. Van Kuren and his two children there were two other persons in the company; Mr. Reed, the tutor, a tall, grave young man who talked but little, and seemed to watch Harry with much care, and a delicate, nervous lady, a sister of Mr. Van Kuren’s, whom the children called Aunt Emma, and who retired to her apartment as soon as the cloth was removed.
For such a fine dinner it seemed to Bruce that every thing moved very easily and quietly. There were two men in black coats and white ties who went about noiselessly serving the guests and removing the dishes. Mr. Van Kuren, Miss Van Kuren and Mr. Reed drank wine, but there were no glasses at either Harry’s or Laura’s plate. Mr. Van Kuren asked Bruce if he would like a little claret, and he declined. He began to explain why he did not wish any, but stopped suddenly, feeling perhaps that he was saying too much, but Mr. Van Kuren helped him out with a kindly, smiling inquiry, and he went on: “Chief Trask of my battalion advised me not to drink anything, because he told me that when it was known of a young fireman that he did not take a drop of anything it was a great aid to him and helped him to get along.”
“Very good indeed,” said Mr. Van Kuren approvingly, “at any rate you’re too young now to need it.”
At first, the young visitor was not quite sure of himself and did not know exactly what to do with all the forks that he found beside his plate, but by carefully watching his host he managed to acquit himself with credit; and when they arose from the table he realized that he had not made one single “bad break” as Harry would have called it.
“Did you ask Papa about the Dexter house?” whispered Laura at the first opportunity.
“No,” replied the boy simply, “I was too much afraid of him; after what you told about his getting mad, I wouldn’t have said anything about Mr. Dexter for a hundred dollars.”
Soon after dinner Bruce took his leave, having promised his new friends that he would pay them another visit as soon as he could. Ashe was saying good-bye, Laura slipped into his hand a small piece of paper, and when he opened it in the elevated train he found the following note:
“I have a splendid idea and will let you know about it very soon. I think it will help you to solve the mystery of the haunted house.
“Truly your friend,
Laura van Kuren.”