The Man in Lower Ten | Page 2

Mrs
Klopton, a very worthy woman, so labeled - and libeled - because of a
ferocious pair of eyes and what McKnight called a bucaneering nose. I
quietly closed the door into the hall.
"Keep your voice down, Richey," I said. "She is looking for the
evening paper to see if it is going to rain. She has my raincoat and an
umbrella waiting in the hall."

The collars being damaged beyond repair, he left them and went to the
window. He stood there for some time, staring at the blackness that
represented the wall of the house next door.
"It's raining now," he said over his shoulder, and closed the window
and the shutters. Something in his voice made me glance up, but he was
watching me, his hands idly in his pockets.
"Who lives next door?" he inquired in a perfunctory tone, after a pause.
I was packing my razor.
"House is empty," I returned absently. "If the landlord would put it in
some sort of shape - "
"Did you put those notes in your pocket?" he broke
"Yes." I was impatient. "Along with my certificates of registration,
baptism and vaccination. Whoever wants them will have to steal my
coat to get them."
"Well, I would move them, if I were you. Somebody in the next house
was confoundedly anxious to see where you put them. Somebody right
at that window opposite."
I scoffed at the idea, but nevertheless I moved the papers, putting them
in my traveling-bag, well down at the bottom. McKnight watched me
uneasily.
"I have a hunch that you are going to have trouble," he said, as I locked
the alligator bag. "Darned if I like starting anything important on
Friday."
"You have a congenital dislike to start anything on any old day," I
retorted, still sore from my lost Saturday. "And if you knew the owner
of that house as I do you would know that if there was any one at that
window he is paying rent for the privilege."
Mrs. Klopton rapped at the door and spoke discreetly from the hall.

"Did Mr. McKnight bring the evening paper?" she inquired.
"Sorry, but I didn't, Mrs. Klopton," McKnight called. "The Cubs won,
three to nothing." He listened, grinning, as she moved away with little
irritated rustles of her black silk gown.
I finished my packing, changed my collar and was ready to go. Then
very cautiously we put out the light and opened the shutters. The
window across was merely a deeper black in the darkness. It was closed
and dirty. And yet, probably owing to Richey's suggestion, I had an
uneasy sensation of eyes staring across at me. The next moment we
were at the door, poised for flight.
"We'll have to run for it," I said in a whisper. "She's down there with a
package of some sort, sandwiches probably. And she's threatened me
with overshoes for a month. Ready now!"
I had a kaleidoscopic view of Mrs. Klopton in the lower hall, holding
out an armful of such traveling impedimenta as she deemed essential,
while beside her, Euphemia, the colored housemaid, grinned over a
white-wrapped box.
"Awfully sorry-no time-back Sunday," I panted over my shoulder.
Then the door closed and the car was moving away.
McKnight bent forward and stared at the facade of the empty house
next door as we passed. It was black, staring, mysterious, as empty
buildings are apt to be.
"I'd like to hold a post-mortem on that corpse of a house," he said
thoughtfully. "By George, I've a notion to get out and take a look."
"Somebody after the brass pipes," I scoffed. "House has been empty for
a year."
With one hand on the steering wheel McKnight held out the other for
my cigarette case. "Perhaps," he said; "but I don't see what she would
want with brass pipe."

"A woman!" I laughed outright. "You have been looking too hard at the
picture in the back of your watch, that's all. There's an experiment like
that: if you stare long enough - "
But McKnight was growing sulky: he sat looking rigidly ahead, and he
did not speak again until he brought the Cannonball to a stop at the
station. Even then it was only a perfunctory remark. He went through
the gate with me, and with five minutes to spare, we lounged and
smoked in the train shed. My mind had slid away from my
surroundings and had wandered to a polo pony that I couldn't afford
and intended to buy anyhow. Then McKnight shook off his taciturnity.
"For heaven's sake, don't look so martyred," he burst out; "I know
you've done all the traveling this summer. I know you're missing a
game to-morrow. But don't be a patient mother; confound it, I have