The Mayors Wife | Page 9

as I
approached. Her easy, courteous manners became her wonderfully. I
immediately recognized how much there was to admire in our mayor's
wife, and quite understood his relief when, a few minutes later, we sat
at table and conversation began. Mrs. Packard, when free and
light-hearted, was a delightful companion and the meal passed off
cheerily. When we rose and the mayor left us for some necessary
business it was with a look of satisfaction in my direction which was
the best possible preparation for my approaching tete-a-tete with his
moody and incomprehensible wife.
But I was not destined to undergo the contemplated ordeal this evening.
Guests were announced whom Mrs. Packard kindly invited me to meet,
but I begged to be allowed to enjoy the library. I had too much to
consider just now, to find any pleasure in society. Three questions
filled my mind.

What was Mrs. Packard's secret trouble?
Why were people afraid to remain in this houses?
Why did the old woman next door show such interest in the new
member of her neighbor's household?
Would a single answer cover all? Was there but one cause for each and
every one of these peculiarities? Probably, and it was my duty to ferret
out this cause. But how should I begin? I remembered what I had read
about detectives and their methods, but the help I thus received was
small. Subtler methods were demanded here and subtler methods I
must find. Meantime, I would hope for another talk with Mayor
Packard. He might clear up some of this fog. At least, I should like to
give him the opportunity. But I saw no way of reaching him at present.
Even Mrs. Packard did not feel at liberty to disturb him in his study. I
must wait for his reappearance, and in the meantime divert myself as
best I could. I caught up a magazine, but speedily dropped it to cast a
quick glance around the room. Had I heard anything? No. The house
was perfectly still, save for the sound of conversation in the
drawing-room. Yet I found it hard to keep my eyes upon the page.
Quite without my, volition they flew, first to one corner, then to
another. The room was light, there were no shadowy nooks in it, yet I
felt an irresistible desire to peer into every place not directly under my
eye. I knew it to be folly, and, after succumbing to the temptation of
taking a sly look behind a certain tall screen, I resolutely set myself to
curb my restlessness and to peruse in good earnest the article I had
begun. To make sure of myself, I articulated each word aloud, and to
my exceeding satisfaction had reached the second column when I found
my voice trailing off into silence, and every sense alarmingly alert. Yet
there was nothing, absolutely nothing in this well-lighted, cozy
family-room to awaken fear. I was sure of this the next minute, and felt
correspondingly irritated with myself and deeply humiliated. That my
nerves should play me such a trick at the very outset of my business in
this house! That I could not be left alone, with life in every part of the
house, and the sound of the piano and cheerful talking just across the
hall, without the sense of the morbid and unearthly entering my

matter-of-fact brain!
Uttering an ejaculation of contempt, I reseated myself. The impulse
came again to look behind me, but I mastered it this time without too
great an effort. I already knew every feature of the room: its
old-fashioned mantel, large round center-table, its couches and chairs,
and why should I waste my attention again upon them?
"Is there anything you wish, Miss?" asked a voice directly over my
shoulder.
I wheeled about with a start. I had heard no one approach; it was not
sound which had disturbed me.
"The library bell rang," continued the voice. "Is it ice-water you want?"
Then I saw that it was Nixon, the butler, and shook my head in mingled
anger and perplexity; for not only had he advanced quite noiselessly,
but he was looking at me with that curious concentrated gaze which I
had met twice before since coming into this house.
"I need nothing," said I, with all the mildness I could summon into my
voice; and did not know whether to like or not like the quiet manner in
which he sidled out of the room.
"Why do they all look at me so closely?" I queried, in genuine
confusion. "The man had no business here. I did not ring, and I don't
believe he thought I did. He merely wanted to see what I was doing and
whether I was enjoying myself. Why this curiosity? I have never