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.
"Yes, I did," said the Doctor quickly, still seeming unconvinced of
the wisdom of her attitude.
"Miss Van Gorder, I confess--I'm very anxious for you," he
continued.
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