I would not let him drive me away, so I sat still, and it grew darker and colder.  He filled his pipe now and then, but he never looked in my direction.  Finally, however, as it grew very dusk, he knocked the ashes out and came toward me.

“I am going to make a request, Miss McNair,” he said evenly.  “Please keep off the roof after sunset.  There are—­reasons.”  I had risen and was preparing to go downstairs.

“Unless I know the reasons, I refuse to do anything of the kind,” I retorted.  He bowed.

“Then the door will be kept locked,” he rejoined, and opened it for me.  He did not follow me, but stood watching until I was down, and I heard him close the roof door firmly behind me.

Chapter XXI.  A BAR OF SOAP

Late that evening Betty Mercer and Dallas were writing verses of condolence to be signed by all of us and put under the door into Jim’s room when Bella came running down the stairs.

Dal was reading the first verse when she came.  “Listen to this, Bella,” he said triumphantly: 

    “There was a fat artist named Jas,
     Who cruelly called his friends nas. 
     When, altho’ shut up tight,
     He broke out over night
     With a rash that is maddening, he clas.”

Then he caught sight of Bella’s face as she stood in the doorway, and stopped.

“Jim is delirious!” she announced tragically.  “You shut him in there all alone and now he’s delirious.  I’ll never forgive any of you.”

“Delirious!” everybody exclaimed.

“He was sane enough when I took him his chicken broth,” Mr. Harbison said.  “He was almost fluent.”

“He is stark, staring crazy,” Bella insisted hysterically.  “I—­I locked the door carefully when I went down to my dinner, and when I came up it—­it was unlocked, and Jim was babbling on the bed, with a sheet over his face.  He—­he says the house is haunted and he wants all the men to come up and sit in the room with him.”

“Not on your life,” Max said.  “I am young, and my career has only begun.  I don’t intend to be cut off in the flower of my youth.  But I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll take him a drink.  I can tie it to a pole or something.”

But Mr. Harbison did not smile.  He was thoughtful for a minute.  Then: 

“I don’t believe he is delirious,” he said quietly, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has happened on something that—­will be of general interest.  I think I will stay with him tonight.”

After that, of course, none of the others would confess that he was afraid, so with the South American leading, they all went upstairs.  The women of the party sat on the lower steps and listened, but everything was quiet.  Now and then we could hear the sound of voices, and after a while there was a rapid slamming of doors and the sound of some one running down to the second floor.  Then quiet again.