The second floor was empty. A table lay overturned at the top of the
stairs, and a broken flower vase was weltering in its own ooze. Part way
down Betty stepped on something sharp, that proved to be the Japanese
paper knife from the den. I left her on the stairs examining her foot
and hurried to the lower floor.
Here everything was in the utmost confusion. Aunt Selina had fainted,
and was sitting in a hall chair with her head rolled over sidewise and
the poker from the library fireplace across her knees. No one was paying
any attention to her. And Jim was holding the front door open, while
three of the guards hesitated in the vestibule. The noises continued
from the back of the house, and as I stood on the lowest stair Bella
came out from the dining room, with her face streaked with soot, and
carrying a kettle of hot water.
"Jim," she called wildly. "While Max and Dal are below, you can pour
this down from the top. It's boiling."
Jim glanced back over his shoulder. "Carry out your own murderous
designs," he said. And then, as she started back with it, "Bella, for
Heaven's sake," he called, "have you gone stark mad? Put that kettle
down."
She did it sulkily and Jim turned to the policeman.
"Yes, I know it was a false alarm before," he explained patiently, "but
this is genuine. It is just as I tell you. Yes, Flannigan is in the
house somewhere, but he's hiding, I guess. We could manage the thing
very well ourselves, but we have no cartridges for our revolvers." Then
as the noise from the rear redoubled, "If you don't come in and help, I
will telephone for the fire department," he concluded emphatically.
I ran to Aunt Selina and tried to straighten her head. In a moment she
opened her eyes, sat up and stared around her. She saw the kettle at
once.
"What are you doing with boiling water on the floor?" she said to me,
with her returning voice. "Don't you know you will spoil the floor?" The
ruling passion was strong with Aunt Selina, as usual.
I could not find out the trouble from any one; people appeared and
disappeared, carrying strange articles. Anne with a rope, Dal with his
hatchet, Bella and the kettle, but I could get a coherent explanation
from no one. When the guards finally decided that Jim was in earnest,
and that the rest of us were not crawling out a rear window while he
held them at the door, they came in, three of them and two reporters,
and Jim led them to the butler's pantry.
Here we found Anne, very white and shaky, with the pantry table and two
chairs piled against the door of the kitchen slide, and clutching the
chamois-skin bag that held her jewels. She had a bottle of burgundy open
beside her, and was pouring herself a glass with shaking hands when we
appeared. She was furious at Jim.