A Court of Inquiry | Page 3

have had no
need for artificial light. Wait--there lay a long, black object on the
white cover of the dressing-table--a curling iron!
In the hall I ran into the Skeptic.
"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her scarf.
She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?"

"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood outside
the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf. I would
not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly.
"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I
could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp.
"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the
dressing-table. "Oh, no--this must be--a sash," said he, and dropped it.
He stood looking about him.
"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it."
"I don't think you will," said he, "in this--er--this--pandemonium."
I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you
go away?" said I.
"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling
over something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never
mind about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest
to walk--the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"--as he moved
toward the staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move
the Philosopher in to-morrow?"
"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different.
Please reserve your judgment."
I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until
the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where
five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over
upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink
adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed
plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter writing.
I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best towels. I did
not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not help noting
three more brown scratches on my white wall.
* * * * *

At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went
up to her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at
the door interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a
bushel-basket.
"Want some help?" offered he.
"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.
"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the
hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I
couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of
the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to
count the things on that dressing----"
"It was very ungentlemanly of you!"
"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his
eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take notes
like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the Gay Lady
doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how it looks
inside--by the Gay Lady herself."
"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I
mean--how can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her
room in order?--for she certainly does."
"I knew it," said he triumphantly.
"But how?"
"And I know that you keep yours in order."
"But how?"
"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we
can see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the
back of her collar with a common brass pin----"

I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but his
eyes are so keen and----
He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."
"She has many lovely qualities----" I began.
"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----"
The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from
his bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them
for a minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a
dive for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.
"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.
* * * * *
I shall ask