A Chain of Evidence - Carolyn Wells

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The Quick or the Dead

       A STUDY!

       Barbara Dering

       A SEQUEL.

       Romances by DAVID POTTER

       The Lady of the Spur

       I Fasten a Bracelet

       An Accidental Honeymoon

       By WILL LEVINGTON COMFORT

       She Buildeth Her House

       Routledge Rides Alone

       PHRYNETTE

       BY

       MARTHE TROLY-CURTIN

       A NOVEL OF THE REAL WEST

       "ME—SMITH"

       By CAROLINE LOCKHART

       By CAROLYN WELLS

       THE GOLD BAG

       THE CLUE

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      I do hate changes, but when my sister Laura, who keeps house for me, determined to move further uptown, I really had no choice in the matter but to acquiesce. I am a bachelor of long standing, and it's my opinion that the way to manage women is simply to humor their whims, and since Laura's husband died I've been rather more indulgent to her than before. Any way, the chief thing to have in one's household is peace, and I found I secured that easily enough by letting Laura do just as she liked; and as in return she kept my home comfortable and pleasant for me, I considered that honors were even. Therefore, when she decided we would move, I made no serious objection.

      At least, not in advance. Had I known what apartment-hunting meant I should have refused to leave our Gramercy Park home.

      But "Uptown" and "West Side" represented to Laura the Mecca of her desires, and I unsuspectingly agreed to her plans.

      Then the campaign began.

      Early every morning Laura scanned the papers for new advertisements. Later every morning she visited agents, and then spent the rest of the day inspecting apartments.

      Then evenings were devoted to summing up the experiences of the day and preparing to start afresh on the morrow.

      She was untiring in her efforts; always hopeful, and indeed positive that she would yet find the one apartment that combined all possible advantages and possessed no objectionable features.

      At first I went with her on her expeditions, but I soon saw the futility of this, and, in a sudden access of independence, I declared I would have no more to do with the search. She might hunt as long as she chose; she might decide upon whatever home she chose; but it must be without my advice or assistance. I expressed myself as perfectly willing to live in the home she selected, but I refused to trail round in search of it.

      Being convinced of my determination, my sister accepted the situation and continued the search by herself.

      But evenings I was called upon as an advisory board, to hear the result of the day's work and to express an opinion. According to Laura it required a careful balancing of location and conveniences, of neighborhood and modern improvements before the momentous question should be decided.

      Does an extra bathroom equal one block further west? Is an onyx-lined entrance greater than a buttoned hall-boy? Are palms in the hall worth more than a red velvet hand-rail with tassels?

      These were the questions that racked her soul, and, sympathetically, mine.

      Then the name. Laura declared that the name was perhaps the most important factor after all. A name that could stand alone at the top of one's letter paper, without the support of a street number, was indeed an achievement. But, strangely enough, such a name proved to be a very expensive proposition, and Laura put it aside with a resigned sigh.

      Who does name the things, anyway? Not the man who invents the names of the Pullman cars, for they are of quite a different sort.

      Well, it all made conversation, if nothing more.

      "I wish you would express a preference, Otis," Laura would say, and then I would obligingly do so, being careful to prefer the one I knew was not her choice. I did this from the kindest of motives, in order to give the dear girl the opportunity which I knew she wanted, to argue against my selection, and in favor of her own.

      Then I ended by being persuaded to her way of thinking, and that settled the matter for that time.

      "Of course," she would say, "if you're never going to marry, but always live with me, you ought to have some say in the selection of our home."

      "I don't expect to marry," I returned; "that is, I have no intention of such a thing at present. But you never can tell. The only reason I'm not married is because I've never seen the woman I wanted to make my wife. But I may yet do so. I rather fancy that if I ever fall in love, it will be at first sight, and very desperately. Then I shall marry, and hunt an apartment of my own."

      "H'm," said my sister, "you seem to have a sublime assurance that the lady will accept you at first sight."

      "If she doesn't, I have confidence in my powers of persuasion. But as I haven't seen her yet, you may as well go ahead with your plans for the continuation of the happy and comfortable home you make for me."

      Whereupon she patted me on the shoulder, and remarked that I was a dear old goose, and that some young woman was missing the chance of her life in not acquiring me for a husband!

      At last Laura decided, regarding our home, that location was the thing after all, and she gave up much in the way of red velvet and buttons, for the sake of living on one of the blocks sanctioned by those who know.

      She decided on the Hammersleigh; in the early sixties, and not too far from the river.

      Though not large, the Hammersleigh was one of the most attractive of the moderate-priced apartment houses in New York City. It had a dignified, almost an imposing entrance, and though the hall porter was elevator boy as well, the service was rarely complained of.

      Of course dwellers in an apartment house are not supposed to know their fellow-tenants on the same floor, any more than occupants of a brown-stone front are supposed to be acquainted with their next-door neighbors. But even so, I couldn't help feeling an interest which almost amounted to curiosity concerning

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