When Churchyards Yawn

Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way to
Johnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by Rosie.
The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy, with the
under-gardener's wife coming every day to help out. Fortunately, Warner
and the detectives were keeping bachelor hall in the lodge. Out of
deference to Liddy they washed their dishes once a day, and they
concocted queer messes, according to their several abilities. They had
one triumph that they ate regularly for breakfast, and that clung to
their clothes and their hair the rest of the day. It was bacon,
hardtack and onions, fried together. They were almost pathetically
grateful, however, I noticed, for an occasional broiled tenderloin.

It was not until Gertrude and Rosie had gone and Sunnyside had settled
down for the night, with Winters at the foot of the staircase, that Mr.
Jamieson broached a subject he had evidently planned before he came.

"Miss Innes," he said, stopping me as I was about to go to my room
up-stairs, "how are your nerves tonight?"

"I have none," I said happily. "With Halsey found, my troubles have
gone."

"I mean," he persisted, "do you feel as though you could go through
with something rather unusual?"

"The most unusual thing I can think of would be a peaceful night. But
if anything is going to occur, don't dare to let me miss it."

"Something is going to occur," he said. "And you're the only woman I
can think of that I can take along." He looked at his watch. "Don't
ask me any questions, Miss Innes. Put on heavy shoes, and some old
dark clothes, and make up your mind not to be surprised at anything."