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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, much less of sharing, the suspicion which I feared I
had, perhaps, too strongly suggested by my rather pointed inquiry. “Or,
rather,” she corrected, with some slight show of sarcasm, “she is what
is commonly called _a companion_; being sufficiently well educated to
read to me if I happen to be in the mood for listening, or even to play
on the piano, if music is required in the house.”

The chill indifference of this answer stamped Mrs. Winchester as a
woman of more elegance than feeling; but as that only made my rather
disagreeable task easier, it would be ungracious in me to criticise it.

“How long has she been with you?” I pursued.

“Oh, a year; perhaps more.”

“And you know her well; her antecedents and associates?”

“Yes; I know her; all that there is to know. She is not a deep person,
nor is she worthy your questions. Let us drop Philippa.”

“In one moment,” I returned. “In a case like this I must satisfy myself
thoroughly as to the character and past history of all who are in the
house. I have seen Philippa, and consequently push my inquiries in her
regard first. With whom did she live before she came to you, and where
does she spend her time when she is not with you in the house?”

Mrs. Winchester grew visibly impatient. “Follies!” she cried; then,
hurriedly, as if anxious to be done with my importunities, “Philippa is
the daughter of the clergyman who married my husband and myself. I have
always known her; she came from her father’s death-bed to my house. As
for associates, she has none; and the time she spends out of my rooms
is so small that I think it is hardly worth inquiring how or where it
is employed. Have you any further inquiries to make?”

I had, but I reserved them. “Will you let me speak to Philippa?” I
asked.

Her gesture was one of the utmost disdain, but it contained an
acquiescence of which I was not slow in availing myself. Stepping
rapidly into the hall, I approached the slight figure I had managed to
keep in view during this conversation.

But at my first movement in her direction the young girl started, and
before I could address her she had passed through the doorway of the
opposite room and disappeared in the darkness beyond.

I immediately stepped back to the lady I had left.

“Do those rooms communicate with a back staircase?” I inquired.

“Yes,” she returned, with uncompromising coldness.

I was baffled; that is, as far as Philippa was concerned. Accepting the
situation, however, with what grace I could, I bowed my acknowledgments
to Mrs. Winchester, and excusing myself for the moment, went hurriedly
below.

I found her husband awaiting me with ill-concealed anxiety.

“Well?” he asked, at my reappearance.

“I have come to a conclusion,” said I.

He drew me into a remote corner of the room, where, without our
conversation being overheard, he could still keep his eye on the
staircase, visible through the half-open door.

“Let me hear,” said he.

I at once spoke my mind.

“The thief was no chance one; he not only knew that your house
contained diamonds, but he knew where to find them and when. Either a
signal was given him when to enter or the diamonds were thrown into his
hand out of the window. Does my conviction coincide with yours?”

He smiled a grim smile and waived the question.

“And who do you think gave the signal or threw the diamonds? Do not be
afraid to speak names; the case is too serious for paltering.”

“Well,” said I, “I have been in the house but a few minutes and have
seen but three persons besides yourself. I had rather not mention any
one as the possible accomplice of so daring a crime till I have seen
and conversed with every one here. But there is a girl up-stairs——you
yourself called my attention to her——about whom I should like to ask a
question or two. I allude to Philippa, Mrs. Winchester’s companion.”

He turned an eye full of expectancy towards me.

“Do you like her? Have you confidence in her? Is she a person to be
trusted?” I inquired.

His glance grew quite bright, and he bowed with almost a gesture of
respect.

“You could not have a better witness,” he remarked.

The answer was so unexpected, I hastily dropped my eyes.

“She will talk, then, if I interrogate her?” said I.

It was now his turn to look disconcerted.

“Then you have not done so?” he asked.

“I have not had the opportunity,” I rejoined.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, “I see.” And with a look and manner hard to
describe, he added, “Mrs. Winchester naturally kept the girl quiet. I
might have expected that.”

Astonished at this new turn, I ventured to speak the thought suggested
by an admission so extraordinary.

“And why should Mrs. Winchester wish to suppress any evidence
calculated to lead to the discovery of a thief who had so heavily
robbed her?”

The gleam of satisfaction which for the last few moments had lighted up
the countenance of the gentleman before me, faded perceptibly.

“I see,” he observed, “that our opinions on this matter are less in
accord than I supposed. But,” he continued more heartily, “you have, as
you very justly remarked just now, been but a few minutes in the house,
and have not had full opportunity to learn the facts. I will wait till
you have talked with Philippa. Shall I call her here?”

“Do,” I urged; “she is below, I think, though possibly she may still
be in the rooms above;” and I explained how she had started away at my
approach, hiding herself in apartments to which I felt I had not the
right of access.

He frowned, and moved hastily toward the door, but paused half-way to
ask me another question.

“Before I go,” said he, “I should like to inquire what word of Mrs.
Winchester led you to the conclusion that the theft was committed by
some one in the house?”

“Wait,” cried I, “you are going too fast; I do not say the theft was
committed by some one in the house. I merely speak of an accomplice.”

“Who flung the diamonds out of the window——”

“Or merely gave the signal that they were accessible, and for the
moment unguarded.”

He waved his hand impatiently.

“Let us not waste time,” he exclaimed. “I want to know what Mrs.
Winchester said——”

“She said nothing,” I interrupted, for my haste was as great as his;
“that is, nothing beyond the necessary relation of the facts——”

“Which were——”

“That the jewels were lying open in their case on the bureau; that
you called her from below; and that she hastened to respond by her
presence; was gone five minutes or so, and, returning, found the window
open and the diamonds gone. As she had left the window shut, she
naturally sprang to it and looked out, in time to see two men hurrying
down the street. Surely these facts you know as well as I.”

“I was curious,” he replied. “So those are the facts you received, and
it is from them alone you gathered the conclusion you have stated?”

“No,” said I, “there was Philippa.”

“But she said nothing.”

“I know, but she did not need to speak. I heard her heart beat, if I
may so express myself, and from its beatings came the conviction I have
given you.”

Mr. Winchester bestowed upon me an approving smile.

“You are all I thought you,” was his comment. “Philippa’s heart did
beat, and with most unwonted emotions, too. Philippa saw the person who
relieved Mrs. Winchester of her jewels.”

“What!” I cried, “and you——”

He did not wait to hear the end of my remonstrance. “I say so,” he went
on, “because while Mrs. Winchester was here, and before she ascended, I
saw Philippa go up. She had just time to reach the head of the stairs,
when the person whose step I had already detected crossing the floor
above, gained the hall——”

“The hall?” I cried.

“Yes. Can it be you really allowed yourself to dream for a moment that
the thief who stole this small fortune came in by the window?”

“Mr. Winchester,” said I, “when I left the police station it was with
some doubt, I confess, as to whether this theft had been committed in
just the way the man who brought your note said it had been. But after
hearing what Mrs. Winchester had to say——”

“Mrs. Winchester’s account of this occurrence is not to be depended
upon,” he broke in calmly, but determinedly. “Shall I give you a fact
or two? The window which my wife declares she found open when she went
up-stairs was not raised while she was down here, but after her return,
for _I heard it_. The step which crossed the floor above us while we
were talking together here, went out, not by any window, but by the
door leading into the hall; so that——”

“Mr. Winchester,” I interrupted, “do you realize that if what you say
is true, the diamonds are probably still in your house?”

“Just where I think they are, Mr. Byrd; just where I think they are.”

I began to have a strong notion of his suspicion.

“And Philippa,” I suggested.

“_Saw_ what I _heard_.”

I made no further effort to detain him. “Let us have her here,” I
cried. “If what you surmise is true, the mystery ought to be one of
easy solution. So easy,” I could not forbear adding, “that I wonder you
felt the need of sending for a detective.”

“You forget,” he observed, “that it is not so much the discovery of
the thief I am after, as the recovery of the jewels. The former I
might have managed without your assistance; but the latter requires an
authority backed by the law.” And merely stopping to call my attention
to the necessity of keeping a watch on the front door that no one
should escape from the house while he was gone, he hastily left me and
went up-stairs.

He was absent some twenty minutes, during which I heard him pass in and
out of his wife’s room. But when he came down he was alone, and his
countenance, which before had looked merely anxious and determined, now
bore the marks of anger and impatience.

“I do not know by what motive she is actuated,” cried he, “but I cannot
induce Philippa to speak. She insists she has nothing to say