She came to the door then.  I could feel that she was investigating the top of my head from above.  “Is Mr. Sullivan with you?” she asked.  It was the first word from her, and she was not sure of her voice.

“No.  We are alone.  If you will come down and look at us you will find us two perfectly harmless people, whose horse—­curses on him—­departed without leave last night and left us at your gate.”

She relaxed somewhat then and came down a step or two.  “I was afraid I had killed somebody,” she said.  “The housekeeper left yesterday, and the other maids went with her.”

When she saw that I was comparatively young and lacked the earmarks of the highwayman, she was greatly relieved.  She was inclined to fight shy of Hotchkiss, however, for some reason.  She gave us a breakfast of a sort, for there was little in the house, and afterward we telephoned to the town for a vehicle.  While Hotchkiss examined scratches and replaced the Bokhara rug, I engaged Jennie in conversation.

“Can you tell me,” I asked, “who is managing the estate since Mrs. Curtis was killed?”

“No one,” she returned shortly.

“Has—­any member of the family been here since the accident?”

“No, sir.  There was only the two, and some think Mr. Sullivan was killed as well as his sister.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” with conviction.

“Why?”

She wheeled on me with quick suspicion.

“Are you a detective?” she demanded.

“No.”

“You told him to say you represented the law.”

“I am a lawyer.  Some of them misrepresent the law, but I—­”

She broke in impatiently.

“A sheriff’s officer?”

“No.  Look here, Jennie; I am all that I should be.  You’ll have to believe that.  And I’m in a bad position through no fault of my own.  I want you to answer some questions.  If you will help me, I will do what I can for you.  Do you live near here?”

Her chin quivered.  It was the first sign of weakness she had shown.

“My home is in Pittsburg,” she said, “and I haven’t enough money to get there.  They hadn’t paid any wages for two months.  They didn’t pay anybody.”

“Very well,” I returned.  “I’ll send you back to Pittsburg, Pullman included, if you will tell me some things I want to know.”

She agreed eagerly.  Outside the window Hotchkiss was bending over, examining footprints in the drive.

“Now,” I began, “there has been a Miss West staying here?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Sullivan was attentive to her?”

“Yes.  She was the granddaughter of a wealthy man in Pittsburg.  My aunt has been in his family for twenty years.  Mrs. Curtis wanted her brother to marry Miss West.”

“Do you think he did marry her?” I could not keep the excitement out of my voice.

“No.  There were reasons”—­she stopped abruptly.