She had expected Dale to show surprise--excitement--but the white mask of horror which the girl turned toward her appalled her. The young body trembled under her hand for a moment like a leaf in the storm.
"Not--the police!" breathed Dale in tones of utter consternation. Miss Cornelia could not understand why the news had stirred her niece so deeply. But there was no time to puzzle it out, she heard crunching steps on the terrace, the Doctor was returning.
"Ssh!" she whispered. "It isn't necessary to tell the Doctor. I think he's a sort of perambulating bedside gossip--and once it's known the police are here we'll NEVER catch the criminals!"
When the Doctor entered from the terrace, brushing drops of rain from his no longer immaculate evening clothes, Dale was back on her favorite settee and Miss Cornelia was poring over the mysterious missive that had been wrapped about the stone.
"He got away in the shrubbery," said the Doctor disgustedly, taking out a handkerchief to fleck the spots of mud from his shoes.
Miss Cornelia gave him the letter of warning. "Read this," she said.
The Doctor adjusted a pair of pince-nez--read the two crude sentences over--once--twice. Then he looked shrewdly at Miss Cornelia.
"Were the others like this?" he queried.
She nodded. "Practically."
He hesitated for a moment like a man with an unpleasant social duty to face.
"Miss Van Gorder, may I speak frankly?"
"Generally speaking, I detest frankness," said that lady grimly. "But--go on!"
The Doctor tapped the letter. His face was wholly serious.
"I think you ought to leave this house," he said bluntly.
"Because of that letter? Humph!" His very seriousness, perversely enough, made her suddenly wish to treat the whole matter as lightly as possible.
The Doctor repressed the obvious annoyance of a man who sees a warning, given in all sobriety, unexpectedly taken as a quip.
"There is some deviltry afoot," he persisted. "You are not safe here, Miss Van Gorder."
But if he was persistent in his attitude, so was she in hers.
"I've been safe in all kinds of houses for sixty-odd years," she said lightly. "It's time I had a bit of a change. Besides," she gestured toward her defenses, "this house is as nearly impregnable as I can make it. The window locks are sound enough, the doors are locked, and the keys are there," she pointed to the keys lying on the table. "As for the terrace door you just used," she went on, "I had Billy put an extra bolt on it today. By the way, did you bolt that door again?" She moved toward the alcove.