Well, that was just as well. She would have a good opportunity to talk things out with Adrian Graeme and Jim Delaney before he arrived.

Aunt Petra turned the knob and tried to open the door. It was her habit to open her relatives’ doors and walk right in as if she owned them herself, when she could. But in this case the door was locked.

“Utterly absurd!” she murmured, annoyed, as she petulantly rang the bell.

A man servant appeared and opened the door for her with respectful formality, as Miriam Graeme had taught him to do.

“The gentlemen are in the living room, Mrs. Holbrook,” the man said.

Aunt Petra made no comment but turned on him with orders.

“Stanton, why don’t you unlock that door?” she said dictatorially. “It’s absurd to keep running back and forth to open the door when you know there are a number of people coming!”

“I’m going according to my orders, ma’am,” said Stanton.

She reached out and snapped the latch back herself. “Now,” she said with authority, “you needn’t come when the bell rings. Let them walk right in!”

Then she turned and sailed into the great beautiful living room.

Stanton stood at one side waiting until she had paused an instant to take in the situation and turned to the right toward the far end where the two men were sitting. Then he reached a swift hand and snapped the latch back once more, disappearing silently into the recesses of the back hall, alert and prepared for the next ring of the bell. His mistress, who had laid this responsibility upon him, was lying in a newly made grave, but as long as he was in this position he would continue to do as she had taught him.

Aunt Petra made her leisurely way down the room, noting with appraising eye several articles in the room that she had long admired, a priceless painting on the wall that might well adorn her own wall now, if she should feel it wise to take over one of the children and look after her. Jennifer, perhaps, because she would soon marry and be off her hands. A tall lamp with a unique arrangement of indirect lights. A lovely plant stand she had long coveted. And those marvelous rugs! But there wasn’t a room in her house that was large enough for them, and they would likely have to be sold, anyway. What a pity!

The two men had risen as she drew near, though they still continued their talk until she was opposite them. Then they turned.

“Good morning, Mrs. Holbrook,” said Jim Delaney. “Won’t you have this chair?”

“Thank you, I prefer a straighter one,” said Aunt Petra obstinately. “Good morning, Adrian. I’m surprised you’re able to be out. I heard Lutie telling someone yesterday at the funeral that you were feeling quite miserable and really ought to be in bed. I didn’t expect to see you this morning!”

“Hmm? Ah! Why, I’m feeling quite well, Mrs. Holbrook, thank you. It is a sad occasion, of course, but I’m in my usual health. Perhaps you’d like this chair.”

“No,” said Aunt Petra sharply, “I’ll take this straight chair. Hasn’t the lawyer come yet? I thought he was always ahead of time.” She glanced at her watch severely as if it were somehow to blame.

“Hmm, no, not yet,” murmured Adrian. “It’s just as well, as we aren’t all here, anyway.”

“Oh, who else is coming?”

“I really couldn’t say,” said Adrian. “All of them, I suppose. Ah, I think I hear footsteps. Someone else has arrived.”

Stanton had arranged the bell with a muffler so that it sounded with a subdued bur-r-r back in the hall, and he was at the door before Aunt Petra could even know anyone had come.