“She’s— she’s horrible,” said Alice faintly. “Mr. Queen— Mr. Thorne, must we stay here? I’d feel so much easier in the city. And then my cold, these frigid rooms—”
“By heaven,” burst out Thorne, “I feel like chancing it on foot!”
“And leave Sylvester’s gold to our tender mercies?” smiled Dr. Reinach. Then he scowled.
“I don’t want father’s legacy,” said Alice desperately. “At this moment I don’t want anything but to get away. I–I can manage to get along all right. I’ll find work to do— I can do so many things. I want to go away. Mr. Keith, couldn’t you possibly—”
“I’m not a magician,” said Keith rudely; and he buttoned his mackinaw and strode out of the house. They could see his tall figure stalking off behind a veil of snowflakes.
Alice flushed, turning back to the fire.
“Nor are any of us,” said Ellery. “Miss Mayhew, you’ll simply have to be a brave girl and stick it out until we can find a means of getting out of here.”
“Yes,” murmured Alice, shivering; and stared into the flames.
“Meanwhile, Thorne, tell me everything you know about this case, especially as it concerns Sylvester Mayhew’s house. There may be a clue in your father’s history, Miss Mayhew. If the house has vanished, so has the gold in the house; and whether you want it or not, it belongs to you. Consequently we must make an effort to find it.”
“I suggest,” muttered Dr. Reinach, “that you find the house first. House!” he exploded, waving his furred arms. And he made for the sideboard.