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after they took things into their own hands, and played spooks themselves, what was the use?”

      “How did you get into the house at night, when it was so securely locked?” asked Peterson.

      “I managed it, but I won’t tell you how,” said Stebbins, doggedly.

      “With Thorpe’s help,” suggested Peterson, “or—oh, by Jinks!” he whistled; “I think I begin to see a glimmer of a gleam of light on this mystery! Yes, I sure do! Excuse me, and I’ll fly over to the house and do a little questioning. Officer, keep friend Stebbins safe against my return.”

      Arrived at Black Aspens, Peterson asked for Rudolph Braye, and was closeted with him for a secret session, from which Braye came forth looking greatly worried and perturbed.

      Peterson went away, and Braye sought the others. He found them listening to a letter which Professor Hardwick had just received and which the old man was reading aloud.

      “It’s from Mr. Wise,” he said to Braye, as the latter came in hearing. “He’s a detective, and he writes to me, asking permission to take up this case.”

      “What a strange thing to do!” exclaimed Braye.

      “Yes,” agreed Hardwick, “and he seems to be a strange man. Listen; ‘If I succeed in finding a true solution to the mystery, you may pay me whatever you deem the matter worth, if I do not, there will be no charge of any sort. Except that I should wish to live in the house with you all, at Black Aspens. I know all of the affair that has been printed in the newspapers, and no more. If you are still in the dark, I should like prodigiously to get into the thick of it and will arrive as soon as you summon me.”

      There was more to the letter but that was the gist of it, and Braye listened in silence.

      “I think,” he said, as the Professor finished, “that we don’t want that detective poking into our affairs.”

      “I agree,” said Landon. “There’s been quite enough publicity about all this already, and I, for one, prefer to go back to New York and forget it as soon as we can.”

      “We can’t forget it very soon, Wynne,” put in Milly, “but I, too, want to go back to New York.”

      “We can’t go right off,” Braye told them, “we must wait a week or so, at least.”

      “Why?” asked Eve, not at all displeased by this statement, for she frankly admitted a desire to stay longer at Black Aspens.

      “Oh, lots of reasons.” Braye put her off. “But let’s settle down for another week here, and then we’ll see.”

      “Then I’m going to tell Wise to come up for that week,” declared the Professor. “I don’t altogether adhere to my conviction as to supernatural powers, and I want to see what a big, really clever detective can dig up in the way of clues or evidence or whatever they work by.”

      “Oh, cut out Wise,” urged Braye. “We don’t want any more detectives than we are ourselves. And Peterson is pretty busy just now, too.”

      It was after the confab broke up that Milly went to Braye.

      “Why don’t you want Mr. Wise to come?” she said, without preamble.

      “Why, oh,—why just ’cause I don’t,” he stammered, in an embarrassed way.

      “You can’t fool me, Rudolph,” she said, with an agonized look on her pretty face. “You are afraid he’ll suspect Wynne,—aren’t you?”

      “Don’t, Milly,” urged Braye, “don’t say such things!”

      “You are! I know from the way you try to put me off. Oh, Braye, he didn’t do it! He hadn’t any hand in any of the queer doings, had he, Rudolph? Tell me you know he hadn’t!”

      “Of course, Milly, of course.”

      “But, listen, Rudolph, I heard some of the things that Peterson man said to you, I listened at the door, I couldn’t help it.”

      “Milly! I’m ashamed of you!”

      “I don’t care! I’m not ashamed. But,—I heard him say that he thinks Wynne is in league with Mr. Stebbins and that the two of them brought about all the mysterious doings——”

      “Hush, Milly! Don’t let any one hear you! You mustn’t breathe such things!”

      “But he did say so, didn’t he, Rudolph?”

      “I won’t tell you.”

      “I know he did! I heard him.”

      “Then forget it, as soon as you can. Trust me, Milly. I’ll do all I can to keep suspicion from Wynne. But, do this, Milly. Use all your powers of persuasion with Professor Hardwick, and make him give up his plan of getting that detective up here. That Wise is a wise one indeed! He’ll find out every thing we don’t want known, and more, too! Will you, Milly, will you,—if only for Wynne’s sake—try to keep that man away?”

      “I’ll try, Rudolph, oh, of course I will! But what can I do, if the Professor has made up his mind? You know how determined he is.”

      “Get the girls to help. Don’t breathe to them a word that you overheard Peterson say, but manage to make them do all they can to keep that detective off. If you all band together, you can do it. Wynne won’t want him; I don’t; I don’t think Mr. Tracy will; and if you women are on our side, Hardwick will be only one against the rest of us, and we must win the day! Milly, that Wise must not come up here,—if you value your peace of mind!”

      “Oh, Rudolph, you frighten me so. I will do all I can, oh, I will!”

      Chapter XIII.

       Pennington Wise

       Table of Contents

      When Mary Pennington married a man named Wise, it was not at all an unusual impulse that prompted her to name her first born son after her own family name, and so Pennington Wise came into being.

      Then, of course, it followed, as the night the day, that his school chums should call him Penny Wise, which name stuck to him through life. Whether this significant name was the cause of his becoming a detective is not definitely known, but a detective he did grow up to be, and a good one, too. Eccentric, of course, what worthwhile detective is not? But clear cut of brain, mind and intelligence. And always on the lookout for an interesting case, for he would engage in no others.

      Wherefore, his persistence in desiring to investigate the strange mysteries of Black Aspens won the day against Milly’s endeavours to prevent his coming. She had done all she could, and most of the house party had aided her efforts, but Professor Hardwick had become imbued with the idea that there was human agency at work, and that his belief in spiritual visitation, honest though it had been, was doomed to a speedy death, unless further proof could be shown.

      Norma, too, was rather inclined to welcome a specialist in the solving of mysterious problems, and in conference with the Professor agreed to do all she could to help the Wise man in his work.

      Norma was still of the opinion that the two tragic deaths were the work of evil spirits, but if it were not so, she wanted to know it.

      But the principal reason why Pennington Wise came to Black Aspens was his own determination to do so. He had never heard of such an unusual and weird mystery, and it whetted his curiosity by its strange and almost unbelievable details.

      The opposing party gave in gracefully, when they found his advent was inevitable. All but Milly, that is. She spent her time alternately crying her heart out in Wynne’s arms, and bracing herself up for a calm and indifferent attitude before the new investigator.

      “Keep

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