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                                WORKS OF
                          ANNA KATHARINE GREEN


     I——THE LEAVENWORTH CASE. A Lawyer’s Story.
        4to, paper, 20 cents; 16mo, paper, 50 cents; 16mo, cloth,  $1 00

    II——A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.
        4to, paper, 20 cents; 16mo, paper, 50 cents; 16mo, cloth,  $1 00

   III——HAND AND RING.
        4to, paper, 20 cents; 16mo, paper, 50 cents; 16mo, cloth,  $1 00

    IV——THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. A Story of New York Life.
        16mo, paper, 50 cents; cloth                               $1 00

     V——X. Y. Z. A Detective Story.
        16mo, paper                                                   25

    VI——THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDE, and other Poems.
        16mo, cloth                                                $1 00

   VII——THE MILL MYSTERY.
        16mo, paper, 50 cents; cloth                               $1 00

  VIII——RISIFI’S DAUGHTER. A Drama.
        16mo, cloth                                                $1 00

    IX——7 to 12. A Story.
        16mo, paper                                                   25


                     G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS, PUBLISHERS,
                            NEW YORK AND LONDON.




                                 7 to 12
                            A DETECTIVE STORY

                                   BY
                          ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
        AUTHOR OF “THE LEAVENWORTH CASE,” “THE MILL MYSTERY,” ETC.


                           NEW YORK AND LONDON
                           G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
                         The Knickerbocker Press
                                  1887




                              COPYRIGHT BY
                           G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
                                  1887




                                Press of
                          G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
                                New York




                                CONTENTS


        7 TO 12, A DETECTIVE STORY                                1

        ONE HOUR MORE                                            79




7 TO 12.

A DETECTIVE STORY.


“Clarke?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Another entrance through a second-story window. A detective wanted
right off. Better hurry up there, —— East Seventy-third Street.”

“All right, sir.”

Clarke turned to go; but the next moment I heard the Superintendent
call him back.

“It is Mr. Winchester’s, you know; the banker.”

Clarke nodded and started again; but a suppressed exclamation from the
Superintendent made him stop for the second time.

“I’ve changed my mind,” said the latter, folding up the slip of paper
he held in his hand. “You can see what Halley has for you to do; I’ll
attend to this.” And giving me a look that was a summons, he whispered
in my ear: “This notification was written by Mr. Winchester himself,
and at the bottom I see hurriedly added, ‘Keep it quiet; send your
discreetest man.’ That means something more than a common burglary.”

I nodded, and the affair was put in my hands. As I was going out of the
door, a fellow detective came hurriedly in.

“Nabbed them,” cried he.

“Who?” asked more than one voice.

“The fellows who have been climbing into second-story windows, and
helping themselves while the family is at dinner.”

I stopped.

“Where did you catch them?” I asked.

“In Twenty-second Street.”

“To-night?”

“Not two hours ago.”

I looked at the Superintendent. He gave a curious lift of his brows,
which I answered with a short smile. In another moment I was in the
street.

My first ring at the bell of No. —— East Seventy-third Street brought
response in the shape of Mr. Winchester himself. Seeing me, his
countenance fell, but in another instant brightened as I observed:

“You sent for a detective, sir;” and quietly showed him my badge.

“Yes,” he murmured; “but I did not expect”——he paused. I was
used to these pauses; I do not suppose I look exactly like the
ordinary detective. “Your name?” he asked, ushering me into a small
reception-room.

“Byrd,” I replied. And taking as a compliment the look of satisfaction
which crossed his face as he finished a hasty but keen scrutiny of my
countenance and figure, I in turn subjected him to a respectful but
earnest glance of interrogation.

“There has been a robbery here,” I ventured.

He nodded, and a look of care replaced the affable expression which a
moment before had so agreeably illumined his somewhat stern features.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth,” he whispered, shortly. “Mrs.
Winchester’s diamonds.”

I started; not so much at the nature and value of the articles stolen,
as at the indefinable air with which this announcement was made by the
wealthy and potential broker and banker. If his all had been taken his
eye could not have darkened with a deeper shadow; if that all had been
lost through means which touched his personal pride and feelings, he
could not have given a sharper edge to his tones, business-like as he
endeavored to make them.

“A heavy loss,” I remarked. “Will you give me the details of the affair
as far as you know them?”

He shook his head and waved his hand with a slight gesture towards the
stairs.

“I prefer that you learn them from such inquiries as you will make
above,” said he. “My wife will tell you what she knows about it, and
there is a servant or two who may have something to say. I would speak
to no one else,” he added, with a deepening of the furrow in his brow;
“at least not at present. Only,”——and here his manner became markedly
impressive,——“understand this. Those diamonds _must_ be found in
forty-eight hours, no matter who suffers, or what consequences follow
a firm and determined pursuit of them. I will stop at nothing to
have them back in the time mentioned, and I do not expect you to. If
they are here by Thursday night——” and the hand he held out with its
fingers curved and grasping actually trembled with his vehemence——“I
will give you five hundred dollars Friday afternoon. If they are here
without noise, scandal, or——” his voice sank further——“disquietude to
my wife, I will increase the sum to a thousand. Isn’t that handsome?”
he queried, with an attempt at a lighter tone, which was not altogether
successful.

“Very,” was my short but deferential reply. And, interested enough by
this time, I turned towards the door, when he stopped me.

“One moment,” said he. “I have endeavored not to forestall your
judgment by any surmises or conclusions of my own. But, after you have
investigated the matter and come to some sort of theory in regard to
it, I should like to hear what you have to say.”

“I will be happy to consult with you,” was my reply; and, seeing
that he had no further remarks to offer, I prepared to accompany him
up-stairs.

The house was a superb one, and not the least handsome portion of it
was the staircase. As we went up, the eye rested everywhere on the
richest artistic effects of carved wood-work and tapestry hangings.
Nor was the glitter of brass lacking, nor the sensuous glow which is
cast by the light striking through ruby-colored glass. At the top was
a square hall fitted up with divans and heavily bespread with rugs. At
one end a half-drawn portière disclosed a suite of apartments furnished
with a splendor equal to that which marked the rest of the house, while
at the other was a closed door, towards which Mr. Winchester advanced.

I was hastily following him, when a young man, coming from above,
stepped between us. Mr. Winchester at once turned.

“Are you going out?” he asked this person, in a tone that lacked the
cordiality of a parent, while it yet suggested the authority of one.

The young gentleman, who was of fine height and carriage, paused with
a curious, hesitating air.

“Are you?” he inquired, ignoring my presence, or possibly not noticing
it, I being several feet from him and somewhat in the shadow.

“We may show ourselves at the Smiths for a few minutes, by and by,” Mr.
Winchester returned.

“No; I am not going out,” the young man said, and, turning, he went
again up-stairs.

Mr. Winchester’s eye followed him. It was only for a moment; but to
me, accustomed as I am to note the smallest details in the manner and
expression of a person, there was a language in that look which opened
a whole field of speculation.

“Your son?” I inquired, stepping nearer to him.

“My wife’s son,” he replied; and, without giving me an opportunity to
put another query, he opened the door before him and ushered me in.

A tall, elegant woman of middle age was seated before the mirror,
having the final touches given to her rich toilette by a young woman
who knelt on the floor at her side. A marked picture, and this not from
the accessories of wealth and splendor everywhere observable, but from
the character of the two faces, which, while of an utterly dissimilar
cast, and possibly belonging to the two extremes of society, were both
remarkable for their force and individuality of expression, as well as
for the look of trouble and suppressed anxiety, which made them both
like the shadows of one deep, dark thought.

The younger woman was the first to notice us and rise. Though occupying
a humble position and accustomed to defer to those around her, there
was extreme grace in her movement and a certain charm in her whole
bearing which made it natural for the eye to follow her. I did not
long allow myself this pleasure, however, for in another instant Mrs.
Winchester had caught sight of our forms in the mirror, and, rising
with a certain cold majesty, in keeping with her imposing figure and
conspicuous if mature beauty, stepped towards us with a slow step,
full of repose and quiet determination. Whatever _her_ feelings might
be, they were without the fierceness and acrimony which characterized
those of her husband. But were they less keen? At first glance I
thought not, but at the second I doubted. Mrs. Winchester was already a
riddle to me.

“Millicent,”——so her husband addressed her,——“allow me to introduce
to you a young man from the police force. If the diamonds are to be
recovered before the week is out, he is the man to do it. I pray you
offer him every facility for learning the facts. He may wish to speak
to the servants and to——” his eye roamed towards the young girl, who, I
thought, turned pale under his scrutiny——“to Philippa.”

“Philippa knows nothing,” the lady’s indifferent side-look seemed to
say, but her lips did not move, nor did she speak till he had left the
room and closed the door behind him. Then she turned to me and gave me
first a careless look and then a keener and more sustained one.

“You have been told how I lost my diamonds,” she remarked at length.

“They said at the station that a man had entered by your second-story
window while you were at dinner.”

“Not at dinner,” she corrected gravely. “I do not leave my jewel-box
lying open, while I go down to dinner. I was in the reception-room
below——Mr. Winchester had sent word that he wished to see me for an
instant——and being on the point of going to an evening party, my
diamonds were in their case on the mantel-piece. When I came back
the case was there, but no diamonds. They had been carried off in my
absence.”

I glanced at the mantel-shelf. On it lay the open jewel-case. “What
made you think a burglar took them?” I asked, my eyes on the lady I was
addressing, but my ears open to the quick, involuntary drawing in of
the breath which had escaped the young girl at the last sentence of her
mistress.

“The window was up——I had left it closed——and there was a sound of
scurrying feet on the pavement below. I had just time to see the forms
of two men hurrying down the street. You know there have been a series
of burglaries of this nature lately.”

I bowed, for her imperiousness seemed to demand it. Then I glanced at
Philippa. She was standing with her face half averted, trifling with
some object on the table, but her apparent unconcern was forced, and
her hand trembled so that she hastily dropped the article with which
she was toying and turned in such a manner that she hid it as well as
her countenance from view.

I made a note of this and allowed my attention to return to Mrs.
Winchester.

“At what time was this?” I inquired.

“Seven o’clock.”

“Late for a burglary of this kind.”

A flush sudden and deep broke out on the lady’s cheek.

“It was successful, however,” she observed.

Ignoring her anger, which may have arisen from sheer haughtiness and
a natural dislike to having any statement she chose to make commented
upon, I pursued my inquiries.

“And how long, madam, do you think you were down-stairs?”

“Some five minutes or so; certainly not ten.”

“And the window was closed when you left the room and open when you
returned?”

“I said so.”

I glanced at the windows. They were both closed now and the shades
drawn.

“May I ask you to show me which window, and also how wide it stood
open?”

“It was the window over the stoop, and it stood half-way open.”

I passed at once to the window.

“And the shade?” I asked, turning.

“Was——was down.”

“You are sure, madam?”

“Quite; it was by the noise it made as I opened the door that I noticed
the window was open.”

“Your first glance, then, was not at the mantel-piece?”

“No, sir, but my second was.” Her self-possession was almost cold.

This great lady evidently did not enjoy her position of witness,
notwithstanding the heavy loss she had sustained, and the fact that the
inquisition being made was all in her own interests. I was not to be
repelled by her manner, however, for a suspicion had seized me which
somewhat accounted for the words and method pursued by Mr. Winchester,
and a suspicion once formed, holds imperious sway over the mind of a
detective till it is either disproved by facts or confirmed in the same
manner into a settled belief.

“Madam,” I remarked, “your loss is very great, and demands the most
speedy and vigorous effort on the part of the police, that it may not
result in a permanent one. Has it struck you”——and I looked firmly at
the young girl whom, by my change of position, I had brought again into
view——“that it was in any way peculiar that chance thieves working in
this dangerous and conspicuous manner should know just the moment to
make the hazardous effort which resulted so favorably to themselves?
These burglaries which, as you say, have been so plentiful of late,
have hitherto all taken place at the hour the family are supposed to be
at dinner, while this occurred just when the family would reasonably
be supposed to be returning up-stairs. Besides, the gas was burning in
this room, was it not?”

“Yes.”

“And the shades down?”

“Yes.”

“So that, till the stoop had been climbed and the room entered, the
thief had every reason to believe it was occupied, unless he had
notification to the contrary from some one better situated than
himself?”

The lady’s eyes opened, and a slight, sarcastic smile parted her lips;
but I was not studying her at this moment, but the young Philippa.
Humble as she evidently was, and in a condition of mind that caused
her to place a restraint upon herself, she took a step forward as I
said this, and her mouth opened, as if she would fling some word into
the conversation that would neither bear the stamp of humility nor
sustain her previous rôle of indifference. But a moment’s thought was
sufficient to quell her passionate impulse, and in another instant she
was gliding quietly from the room, when I leaned toward Mrs. Winchester
and whispered:

“Request the young woman to wait in the hall outside, and suggest that
she leave the door open. I do not feel like letting out of my sight
just yet any person, no matter how reliable, who has listened to my
last remark.”

Mrs. Winchester looked surprised, and eyed me with something of the
expression she might have betrayed if I had begged her to stop a mouse
from escaping the conference we were holding. But she did what I asked
her, and that with a cold, commanding air which proved that, however
useful she found the deft and graceful Philippa, she had no real
liking for her or any interest in her beyond that which sprang from
the value of her services. Was this state of things the fault of Mrs.
Winchester or of Philippa? I had not time to determine. The docility of
the latter was not, perhaps, to be trusted too far, especially if, as
I half suspected, there was some tie between her and the thieves who
had carried off Mrs. Winchester’s jewels; and while she still lingered
where I could see her, I must put the question so evidently demanded by
the gravity of the situation.

“Mrs. Winchester,” I said, “is there any one in your house whom you
think capable of being in league with the robbers?”

The question took her by surprise; she started, and the flush
reappeared on her cheek. “I do not understand you,” she began; but,
speedily recovering her self-possession, she exclaimed, in a low but
emphatic tone, “No; how could you think of such a thing? It is the work
of professional burglars and of them alone.”

I made a slight but unmistakable gesture towards the hall.

“Who is that girl?” I asked.

“Philippa? My maid,” she answered, without the slightest token of
understanding,