The Bungalow Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked very grateful as the girl returned the kiss heartily.
    â€œYou are very kind. I should love to stay with you. But this time, I am afraid—”
    â€œUncle John is not very well, Aunt Minnie,” interposed Roger, coming to the rescue, “and Zoe is his right hand. He could hardly be persuaded to spare her even for the theatricals. Later on, perhaps. But now I am sure that Zoe must be tired and hungry after her journey—perhaps you will just show her to her room, and then we will have dinner.”
    â€œOf course, my dear. What was I thinking of?” The old lady rose in a bustle and rolled up her knitting in a ball. “Your room is all ready, my dear, and dinner will be ready in a minute.”
    There was a grim smile on Roger’s face as he closed the door behind them. When his aunt came into the room again she was looking anxious and worried.
    â€œI wish we had known that she was coming tonight; we would have had something nice for dinner. You never told me how pretty she was, Roger.”
    â€œWho—Zoe?” The doctor looked puzzled. “I do not think she is. At least”—with a change of front, as he remembered the big, bright eyes, the flushing cheeks of this new Zoe—“I suppose she is. I never thought of it before.”
    â€œReally, Roger!” Evidently the old lady was working herself up into quite a state of excitement over her guest. “And her gown—did you notice it?”
    â€œNot particularly,” Roger responded, with masculine denseness. “Something dark, wasn’t it?”
    â€œSomething dark!” Miss Chilton repeated with supreme contempt. “It was dark green of course! But did you notice the cut and the finish and the wonderful embroidery on the vest and cuffs? I could not help saying to her, ‘My dear, where did you get that gown?’ and she said at once, ‘In Vienna.’ I thought she was inclined to catch herself up the moment after she had said it, but still—I have heard that Viennese tailors are even more expensive than the Parisian. What do you make of it, Roger? Your Uncle John—”
    â€œMust have more money than sense, by your account of it, I should say,” Lavington interpolated brusquely.” Don’t worry yourself about it, Aunt Minnie. Zoe”—bringing out the name after an imperceptible pause—“has put on her best bib and tucker to dazzle our rustic minds, I expect.”
    â€œOh, well, I don’t know,” Miss Chilton began, unconvinced. “Oh, there you are, my dear!” with a complete change of tone as the swish of Zoe’s silken petticoats, the tap of her high-heeled shoes, were heard.
    Looking at her, at the daintily arranged masses of her fair hair, at the exquisite finish of her gown, at the delicate touches of lace falling round her throat and wrists, Lavington found it difficult to believe that this was in reality the wild-eyed, desolate creature who had cried aloud to him for help so short a time before.
    But, in the dining-room, he saw that she was making the veriest pretence of eating, and that she was with difficulty preventing herself from starting at every sound. As they were finishing, the front door bell pealed loudly. Roger forced himself to look away from the girl’s rapidly changing colour, and to talk with apparent unconcern to his aunt during the pause that followed. At last the house-parlourmaid appeared with a white, scared face.
    â€œConstable Frost would be glad to speak to you a moment, sir. He is waiting in the hall. And, oh, sir, oh, ma’am!”—turning to the astonished Miss Chilton—“they say there has been a murder done next door, and they are out searching for them that has done it! Me and Cook are both frightened out of our wits to stay in the kitchen!”
    â€œWhat!” Miss Chilton fell back in her chair, white and trembling.
    Lavington felt, rather than saw, the