"Everything looks safe but keep under cover until I can get back. I've put a tea-cosey over the coffee pot to keep it hot."
And this rather remarkable message was signed by the one word "Wendy."
That note, for some reason, started me thinking of the night before. I sat down in a chair beside the table and made an effort to go methodically over the events of the past twenty-four hours. But it proved no easy thing to do. It left me confronted by too many tangles and confounded by too many questions which were still unanswered. And as I pondered over these problems I absently lifted a dish-cover which was still quite warm to the touch, and unearthed a platter of bacon and eggs. Then I lifted the yellow silk tea-cosey and sniffed at the coffee. That, naturally enough, made me look about for the toast. But there was none.
I was still inwardly lamenting this discovery when a sudden sound put an end to all such thoughts. It was the quick shrill of a bell, and it brought me up short. For, at first, I thought that sound was unmistakably a door-bell ringing. As the sound was repeated, however, again and still again, I became convinced it was the call-bell of a telephone from some near-by room. So I started
