THE EMPTY HOUSEWhen Doris Philpot set out for Bronson’s house she was in a pleasantly cheerful mood, confident that some really interesting discovery was before her, and full of an exquisite curiosity. It was only when she entered upon the last stretch of road, still and gloomy under its canopy of beech boughs, that misgivings began to assail her. She tried to shake them off, thinking how pleased Cranley would be when she brought him back some valuable clue, and how he would solve the mystery, and be mentioned in all the papers as “the brilliant young detective,” and be marked down for early promotion. Then they would get married, and she would have a nice little home of her own, instead of standing all day at a bureau at everybody’s beck and call. These were pleasant reflections, but they
