“Because of that letter?  Humph!” His very seriousness, perversely enough, made her suddenly wish to treat the whole matter as lightly as possible.

The Doctor repressed the obvious annoyance of a man who sees a warning, given in all sobriety, unexpectedly taken as a quip.

“There is some deviltry afoot,” he persisted.  “You are not safe here, Miss Van Gorder.”

But if he was persistent in his attitude, so was she in hers.

“I’ve been safe in all kinds of houses for sixty-odd years,” she said lightly.  “It’s time I had a bit of a change.  Besides,” she gestured toward her defenses, “this house is as nearly impregnable as I can make it.  The window locks are sound enough, the doors are locked, and the keys are there,” she pointed to the keys lying on the table.  “As for the terrace door you just used,” she went on, “I had Billy put an extra bolt on it today.  By the way, did you bolt that door again?” She moved toward the alcove.

“Yes, I did,” said the Doctor quickly, still seeming unconvinced of the wisdom of her attitude.

“Miss Van Gorder, I confess—­I’m very anxious for you,” he continued.  “This letter is—­ominous.  Have you any enemies?”

“Don’t insult me!  Of course I have.  Enemies are an indication of character.”

The Doctor’s smile held both masculine pity and equally masculine exasperation.  He went on more gently.

“Why not accept my hospitality in the village to-night?” he proposed reasonably.  “It’s a little house but I’ll make you comfortable.  Or,” he threw out his hands in the gesture of one who reasons with a willful child, “if you won’t come to me, let me stay here!”

Miss Cornelia hesitated for an instant.  The proposition seemed logical enough—­more than that—­sensible, safe.  And yet, some indefinable feeling—­hardly strong enough to be called a premonition —­kept her from accepting it.  Besides, she knew what the Doctor did not, that help was waiting across the hall in the library.

“Thank you, no, Doctor,” she said briskly, before she had time to change her mind.  “I’m not easily frightened.  And tomorrow I intend to equip this entire house with burglar alarms on doors and windows!” she went on defiantly.  The incident, as far as she was concerned, was closed.  She moved on into the alcove.  The Doctor stared at her, shaking his head.

She tried the terrace door.  “There, I knew it!” she said triumphantly.  “Doctor—­you didn’t fasten that bolt!”

The Doctor seemed a little taken aback.  “Oh—­I’m sorry—­” he said.

“You only pushed it part of the way,” she explained.  She completed the task and stepped back into the living-room.  “The only thing that worries me now is that broken French window,” she said thoughtfully.  “Anyone can reach a hand through it and open the latch.”  She came down toward the settee where Dale was sitting.  “Please, Doctor!”