THE CRIMSON OUTLINE
Barbara McIntyre made the round of the library for the fifth time, testing each of the seven doors opening into it to see that they ere closed behind their portieres, then she turned back to her sister, who sat cross-logged before a small safe.
"Any luck?" she asked Instead of replying Helen removed the key from the lock of the steel door and regarded it attentively.The safe was of an obsolete pattern and in place of the customary combination lock, was opened by means of a key, unique in appearance.
"It is certainly the key which father mislaid six months ago," she declared."Grimes found it just after father had a new key made and gave it to me.And yet I can't get the door open.""Let me try." Barbara crouched down by her sister and inserted the key again in the lock, but her efforts met with no results, and after five minutes' steady manipulation she gave up the attempt.
"I am afraid it is impossible," she admitted."Seems to me I have heard that the lost key will not open a safe after a new key has been supplied."Helen rose slowly to her feet, stretching her cramped limbs carefully as she did so, and sank down in the nearest chair.Her attitude indicated dejection.
"Then we can't find the envelope," she muttered."Hurry, Babs, and close the outer door; father may return at any moment."Barbara obeyed the injunction with such alacrity that the door, concealing the space in the wall where stood the safe, flew to with a bang and the twins jumped nervously.
"Take care!" exclaimed Helen sharply."Do you wish to arouse the household?""No danger of that." But Barbara glanced apprehensively about the library in spite of her reassuring statement."The servants are either out or upstairs, and Margaret Brewster is writing letters in our sitting room.""Hadn't you better go upstairs and join her?" Helen suggested."Do, Babs," as her sister hesitated."I cannot feel sure that she will not interrupt us.""But my joining her won't keep Margaret upstairs," objected Barbara.
"No, but you can call and warn me if she is on her way down, and that will give me time to - to straighten father's papers," going over to a large carved table littered with magazines, letters, and silver ornaments.Her sister did not move, and she glanced at her with an irritated air, very foreign to her customary manner.
"Go, Barbara."
The curt command brought a stare from Barbara, but it did not accelerate her halting footsteps; instead she moved with even greater slowness toward the hall door; her active brain tormented with an unspoken and unanswered question.Why was Helen so anxious for her departure? She had accepted her offer of assistance in her search of the library with such marked reluctance that Barbara had marveled at the time, and now...
"Are you quite sure, Helen, that father had the envelope in his pocket this morning?" she asked for the third time since the search began.
"He had an envelope - I caught a glimpse of the red seal," answered Helen."Then, just before dinner he was putting some papers in the safe.Oh, if Grimes had only come in a moment sooner to announce dinner, I might have had a chance to look in the safe before father closed the door."Whatever reply Barbara intended making was checked by the rattling of the knob of the hall door; it turned slowly, the door opened and, pushing aside the portieres drawn across the entrance, Margaret Brewster glided in."So glad to find you," she cooed."But why have you closed up the room and turned on all the lights?""To see better," retorted Barbara promptly as the widow's eyes roved around the large room, taking silent note of the drawn curtains and portieres, and the somewhat disarranged furniture."Come inside, Margaret, and help us in our search.""For what?" The widow tried to keep her tone natural, but a certain shrill alertness crept into it and Barbara, who was watching her closely, was quick to detect the change.Helen's color altered at the question, and she observed the widow's entrance with veiled hostility.
"For my seal," Barbara answered."The one with the big letter 'B.'
Have you seen it?"
"I? - No." The widow took a chair uninvited near Helen."You look tired, Helen dear; why don't you go to bed?""I could not sleep if I did." Helen passed a nervous finger across her eyes."But don't let me keep you and Babs up; it won't take me long to arrange to-morrow's market order for Grimes."Under pretense of searching for pencil and paper Helen contrived to see the address of every letter lying on the table, but the envelope she sought, with its red seal, was not among them.When she looked up again, pencil and paper in hand, she found Mrs.Brewster leaning lazily back and regarding her from under half-closed lids."You are very like your father, Helen," she commented softly.
The girl stiffened."Am I? Babs and I are generally thought to resemble our mother.""In appearance, yes; but I mean mannerisms - for instance, the way of holding your pencil, your handwriting, even, closely resembles your father's." Mrs.Brewster pointed to the notes Helen was scribbling on the paper and to an open letter bearing Colonel McIntyre's signature at the bottom of the sheet lying beside the pad to illustrate her meaning."These are almost identical.""You are a close observer." Helen completed her memorandum and laid it aside."What became of father?""He went to a stag supper at the Willard," chimed in Barbara, stopping her aimless walk about the library."He said we were not to wait up for him."Helen pushed back her chair and rose with some abruptness.
"I am more tired than I realized," she remarked and involuntarily stretched her weary muscles."Come, Margaret," laying a persuasive hand on the widow's shoulder."Be a trump and rub my forehead with cologne as you used to do abroad when I had a headache.It always put me to sleep then; and, oh, how I long for sleep now!"There was infinite pathos in her voice and Mrs.Brewster sprang up and threw her arm about her in ready sympathy.
