“Here comes Nels,” said Ruth.
“Just in time to keep me from persuading you that I am quite insane,” said Professor Pendragon. “I was going to show you a wonderful picture in the morgue, but it’s too late, Nels, for you’ll never be able to find it alone, and I am going to buy it. Some day, if you’ll come and have tea with me—all of you—you can advise me about the proper place to hang it.”
“We’ll do that, but I’ll bet I can find it by myself—go ahead and buy it and when we come to your house I’ll be able to describe the picture and tell you who painted it.”
“Of course, if some one tells you.”
“No, not that; if there’s anything in the morgue worth your attention, I’ll be sure to notice it.”
“So will I,” said Dorothy. “Come on, Ruth, let’s look.”
Ruth had been wondering whether Pendragon would go out with them and how she could avoid his going to the house on Gramercy Square, but evidently he was as informal as a student, for he only nodded a careless farewell and strolled off while they went in search of the picture.
CHAPTER VI
Ruth entered the house with her own key, which she had taken, not wanting to keep George waiting up to open the door for her. The house was quite silent and dark, save for one dim light burning in the hall, and this light seemed to illumine a thick blue haze or smoke that floated out enveloping her as she paused on the threshold. At the same moment she was conscious of an almost overpowering odour of incense, something that Gloria never used, she knew. She stood a moment peering through the blue haze until she made out a figure crouching on the stairs, not George as she at first supposed, but Amy, who seldom showed herself in the front of the house. She was huddled up, with clasped arms, weaving to and fro and moaning inarticulate prayers, while her eyes rolled wildly about in her head.
“Amy, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”