Room Number 3, and Other Detective Stories. Green Anna Katharine

      It was the mistress of The Evergreens and giver of the ball.

      "Madam, a man shall be sent at once. Where will you see him?"

      "In the butler's pantry at the rear. Let him give his name as Jennings."

      "Very good. Good-bye."

      "Good-bye."

      A pretty piece of work! Should I send Hendricks or should I send Hicks? Hendricks was clever and Hicks discreet, but neither united both qualifications in the measure demanded by the sensible and quietly resolved woman with whom I had just been talking. What alternative remained? But one: I must go myself.

      It was not late – not for a ball-night, at least – and as half the town had been invited to the dance, the streets were alive with carriages. I was watching the blink of their lights through the fast-falling snow when my attention was drawn to a fact which struck me as peculiar. These carriages were all coming my way instead of rolling in the direction of The Evergreens. Had they been empty this would have needed no explanation; but, so far as I could see, most of them were full, and that, too, of loudly-talking women and gesticulating men.

      Something of a serious nature must have occurred at The Evergreens. Rapidly I paced on, and soon found myself before the great gates.

      A crowd of vehicles of all descriptions blocked the entrance. None seemed to be passing up the driveway; all stood clustered at the gates; and as I drew nearer I perceived many an anxious head thrust forth from their quickly-opened doors, and heard many an ejaculation of disappointment as the short interchange of words went on between the drivers of these various turnouts and a man drawn up in quiet resolution before the unexpectedly barred entrance.