Mary Roberts Rinehart & Avery Hopwood Read Online Free PDF Page A

angel, ma'am," said Lizzie, clasping her hands.
    "Well, I feel very little like one," said Miss Cornelia, rising. "As
cook and housemaid may discover before I'm through with them. Send them
into the livingroom, Lizzie, when I've gone down. I'll talk to them
there."
    An hour or so later, Miss Cornelia sat in a deep chintz chair in the
comfortable living-room of the Fleming house going through the pile of
letters which Lizzie's news of domestic revolt had prevented her
reading earlier. Cook and housemaid had come and gone—civil enough,
but so obviously determined upon leaving the house at once that Miss
Cornelia had sighed and let them go, though not without caustic
comment. Since then, she had devoted herself to calling up various
employment agencies without entirely satisfactory results. A new cook
and housemaid were promised for the end of the week—but for the next
three days the Japanese butler, Billy, and Lizzie between them would
have to bear the brunt of the service. Oh, yes—and then there's
Dale's gardener, if she gets one, thought Miss, Cornelia. "I wish he
could cook—but I don't suppose gardeners can—and Billy's a treasure.
Still, its inconvenient—now, stop—Cornelia Van Gorder—you were
asking for an adventure only this morning and the moment the littlest
sort of one comes along, you want to crawl out of it."
    She had reached the bottom of her pile of letters—these to be thrown
away, these to be answered—ah, here was one she had overlooked
somehow. She took it up. It must be the one Lizzie had wanted to
throw away—she smiled at Lizzie's fears. The address was badly typed,
on cheap paper—she tore the envelope open and drew out a single
unsigned sheet.
    If you stay in this house any longer—DEATH. Go back to the city at
once and save your life.
    Her fingers trembled a little as she turned the missive over but her
face remained calm. She looked at the envelope—at the postmark—while
her heart thudded uncomfortably for a moment and then resumed its
normal beat. It had come at last—the adventure—and she was not
afraid!

Chapter Three - Pistol Practice
*
    She knew who it was, of course. The Bat! No doubt of it. And
yet—did the Bat ever threaten before he struck? She could not
remember. But it didn't matter. The Bat was unprecedented—unique. At
any rate, Bat or no Bat, she must think out a course of action. The
defection of cook and housemaid left her alone in the house with Lizzie
and Billy—and Dale, of course, if Dale returned. Two old women, a
young girl, and a Japanese butler to face the most dangerous criminal
in America, she thought grimly. And yet—one couldn't be sure. The
threatening letter might be only a joke—a letter from a crank—after
all. Still, she must take precautions; look for aid somewhere. But
where could she look for aid?
    She ran over in her mind the new acquaintances she had made since she
moved to the country. There was Doctor Wells, the local physician, who
had joked with her about moving into the Bat's home territory—He
seemed an intelligent man—but she knew him only slightly—she couldn't
call a busy Doctor away from his patients to investigate something
which might only prove to be a mare's-nest. The boys Dale had met at
the country club—"Humph!" she sniffed, "I'd rather trust my gumption
than any of theirs." The logical person to call on, of course, was
Richard Fleming, Courtleigh Fleming's nephew and heir, who had rented
her the house. He lived at the country club—she could probably reach
him now. She was just on the point of doing so when she decided
against it—partly from delicacy, partly from an indefinable feeling
that he would not be of much help. Besides, she thought sturdily, it's
my house now, not his. He didn't guarantee burglar protection in the
lease.
    As for the local police—her independence revolted at summoning them.
They would bombard her with ponderous questions and undoubtedly think
she was merely a nervous old spinster. If