“A ticket? No.” Ferguson eyed her sharply. “Why?”
“I was wondering if he had just stopped over a train on his way south,” she explained glibly. “It was just an idea—don’t let me detain you longer.”
Ferguson halted in indecision; however, his engagement brooked no further delay if he was to be on time for it. He could question Mrs. Hale later in the day.
“I will return,” he said. “But if you desire me at any time, please telephone, Mrs. Hale. Good-morning.”
Left to her own resources, Mrs. Hale diligently searched the room. She had about decided to stop, disgusted with her lack of results when on feeling about in the depths of the top drawer of Austin’s bureau she touched a small book, and pulled it out. On its leather cover she saw stamped in gold the insignia of a Senior secret society at Yale.
Mrs. Hale turned over several of the leaves and glanced down the pages, hesitated a moment then, placing the book in her convenient knitting bag, she proceeded to the dining room to make certain that Maud had properly set the luncheon table. She was particular about small household details. As she passed the door of Judith’s boudoir she failed to see Richards standing somewhat in its shadow regarding her. Richards was still gazing after her retreating figure when Judith, who was in their bedroom dressing for luncheon, called to him.
“Please ring for Maud,” she asked as he appeared, and obediently he returned to the boudoir and reached for the push button. The act was mechanical, and it was not until he had made three attempts to ring the bell that he realized that the small object he was fingering was not the push button.
Richards stepped back and surveyed the boudoir walls. The bell he sought was on the other side of the door leading into their bedroom. After pressing the button he walked back and examined the little object on the opposite wall. To all intents and purposes it resembled an electric push button, hanging just below an enlarged photograph of Mrs. Hale.
Richards’ strong sensitive fingers felt behind the framed photograph until they encountered a tiny wire. It wound in and out along the picture wire until it encountered the wires of the branch telephone. He stood in deep thought for some minutes, then walked into the bedroom.
“Can I be of service, dear?” he asked his wife. “Maud hasn’t answered the bell.”