Chapter 10 The Circular Staircase The morning after Halsey's return was Tuesday, Arnold Armstrong had been found dead at the foot of the Circular Staircase at 3 o'clock on Sunday morning. The funeral services were to be held on Tuesday, and the internment of the body was to be deferred until the Armstrongs arrived from California. No one, I think, was very sorry that Arnold Armstrong was dead, but the manner of his death aroused some sympathy and an enormous amount of curiosity. Mrs Ogden Fitzhugh, a cousin, took charge of the arrangements and everything, I believe, was as quiet as possible. I gave Thomas Johnson and Mrs Watson permission to go into town to pay their last respects to the dead man, but for some reason they did not care to go. Halsey spent part of the day with Mr Jamison, but he said nothing of what happened. He looked grave and anxious, and he had a long conversation with Gertrude late in the afternoon. Tuesday evening found us quiet, with the quiet that precedes an explosion. Gertrude and Halsey were both gloomy and distraught, and as Liddy had already discovered that some of the China was broken, it is impossible to have any secrets from an old servant. I was not in a pleasant humour myself. Warner brought up the afternoon mail and the evening papers at seven. I was curious to know what the papers said of the murder. We had turned away at least a dozen reporters, but I read over the headline that ran half across the top of the gazette twice before I comprehended it. Halsey had opened the chronicle and was staring at it fixedly. The trader's bank closes its doors, was what I read, and then I put down the paper and looked across the table. Did you know of this? I asked Halsey. I expected it, but not so soon, he replied. And you? To Gertrude. Jack told us something. Gertrude said faintly. Oh Halsey, what can he do now? Jack, I said scornfully.   It isn't an innest trait.  Gertrude tried to speak, but Halsey stopped her. That isn't all, Gertrude, he said quietly. Jack is under arrest. Under arrest, Gertrude screamed and tore the paper out of his hand. She glanced at the heading, then she crumbled the newspaper into a ball and flung it to the floor. While Halsey, looking stricken and white, was trying to smooth it out and read it, Gertrude had dropped her head on the table and was sobbing stormily. I have the clipping somewhere, but just now I can remember only the essentials. On the afternoon before, Monday, while the trader's bank was in the rush of closing hour, between two and three, Mr Jacob Tortman, president of the Pearl Brewing Company, came into the bank to lift a loan. As security for the loan, he had deposited some 300 international steamship, company's fives, in total value $300,000. Mr Tortman went to the loan clerk and, after certain formalities had been gone through, the loan clerk went to the vault. Mr Tortman, who was a large and genial German, waited for a time, whistling under his breath. The loan clerk did not come back. After an interval, Mr Tortman saw the loan clerk emerge from the vault and go to the assistant cashier. The two went hurriedly to the vault, a lapse of another ten minutes, and the assistant cashier came out and approached Mr Tortman. He was noticeably white and trembling. Mr Tortman was told that through an oversight the bonds had been misplaced and was asked to return the following morning when everything would be made all right. Mr Tortman, however, was a shrewd businessman and he did not like the appearance of things. He left the bank apparently satisfied and within 30 minutes he had called up three different members of the traders board of directors. At 3.30 there was a hastily convened board meeting with some stormy scenes and late in the afternoon a national bank examiner was in possession of the books. The bank had not opened for business on Tuesday. At 12.30 o'clock the Saturday before, as soon as the business of the day was closed, Mr John Bailey, the cashier of the Dekauf Bank, had taken his hat and departed. During the afternoon he had called up Mr Aronson, a member of the board, and said he was ill and might not be at the bank for a day or two. As Bailey was highly thought of Mr Aronson merely expressed a regret. From that time until Monday night when Mr Bailey had surrendered to the police little was known of his movements. Sometime after one on Saturday he had entered the Western Union office at Cherry and White Streets and had sent two telegrams. He was at the Greenwood Country Club on Saturday night and appeared unlike himself. It was reported that he would be released under enormous bond sometime that day, Tuesday. The article closed by saying that while the officers of the bank refused to talk until the examiner had finished his work it was known that securities aggregating a million and a quarter were missing. Then there was a diatribe on the possibility of such an occurrence on the folly of a one-man bank and of the board of directors that met only to lunch together and to listen to a brief report from the cashier and on the poor policy of a government that arranges a three- or four-day examination twice a year. The mystery it insinuated had not been cleared by the arrest of the cashier before now minor officials had been used to cloak the misdeeds of men higher up. Inseparable as the words speculation and speculation have grown to be John Bailey was not known to be in the stock market. His only words after his surrender had been sent to Mr Armstrong at once. The telegraph message which had finally reached the President of the Traders Bank in an interior town in California had been responded to by a telegram from Dr Walker the young physician who was travelling with the Armstrong family saying that Paul Armstrong was very ill and unable to travel. That was how things stood that Tuesday evening. The Traders Bank had suspended payment and John Bailey was under arrest charged with wrecking it. Paul Armstrong lay very ill in California and his only son had been murdered two days before. I sat dazed and bewildered. The children's money was gone. That was bad enough though I had plenty if they would let me share. But Gertrude's grief was beyond any power of mind to comfort. The man she had chosen stood accused of a colossal embezzlement and even worse. For in the instant that I sat there I seemed to see the coils closing around John Bailey as the murderer of Arnold Armstrong. Gertrude lifted her head at last and stared across the table at Halsey. Why did he do it? She wailed. Couldn't you stop him Halsey? It was suicidal to go back. Halsey was looking steadily through the windows of the breakfast room but it was evident he saw nothing. It was the only thing he could do, Trude, he said at last. Aunt Ray, when I found Jack at the Greenwood Club last Saturday night he was frantic. I cannot talk until Jack tells me I may. But he is absolutely innocent of all this, believe me. I thought, Trude and I thought, we were helping him but it was the wrong way. He came back. Isn't that the act of an innocent man? Then why did he leave at all? I asked unconvinced. What innocent man would run away from here at three o'clock in the morning? Doesn't it look rather as though he thought it impossible to escape? Gertrude rose angrily. You are not even just, she flamed. You don't know anything about it and you condemn him. I know that we have all lost a great deal of money, I said. I shall believe Mr Bailey innocent the moment he is shown to be. You profess to know the truth but you cannot tell me what am I to think? Halsey leaned over and patted my hand. You must take us on faith, he said. Jack Bailey has an opinion that doesn't belong to him. The guilty man will be known in a day or so. I shall believe that when it is proved, I said grimly. In the meantime, I take no one on faith. The innocents never do. Gertrude, who had been standing aloof at a window, turned suddenly. But when the bonds are offered for sale, Halsey, won't the thief be detected at once? Halsey turned with a superior smile. It would be done that way, he said. They would be taken out of the vault by someone who had access to it and used as collateral for a loan in another bank. It would be possible to realise 80% of their face value. In cash, in cash. But the man who did it, he would be known. Yes, I tell you both. As sure as I stand here, I believe that Paul Armstrong looted his own bank. I believe he has a million at least as the result and that he will never come back. I'm worse than a pauper now. I can't ask Louise to share nothing a year with me and when I think of this disgrace for her, I'm crazy. The most ordinary events of life seem pregnant with possibilities that day. And when Halsey was called to the telephone, I ceased all pretense at eating. When he came back from the telephone, his face showed that something had occurred. He waited, however, until Thomas left the dining room. Then he told us. Paul Armstrong is dead. He announced gravely. He died this morning in California. Whatever he did, he is beyond the law now. Gertrude turned pale. And the only man who could have cleared Jack can never do it, she said despairingly. Also, I replied coldly. Mr. Armstrong is forever beyond the power of defending himself. When your Jack comes to me with some $200,000 in his hands, which is about what you have lost, I shall believe him innocent. Halsey threw his cigarette away and turned on me. There you go, he exclaimed. If he was the thief, he could return the money, of course. If he is innocent, he probably hasn't attended that amount in the world. In his hands, that's like a woman. Gertrude, who had been pale and despairing during the early part of the conversation, had flushed an indignant red. She got up and drew herself to her slender height, looking down at me with the scorn of the young and positive.  I have given you all I would have given my mother, had she lived my love, my trust.  I tell you, John Bailey is a good man, an honest man. If you say he is not, you Gertrude, Halsey broke in sharply. She dropped beside the table and, bearing her face in her arms, broke into a storm of tears. I love him, love him, she sobbed, in a surrender that was totally unlike her. Oh, I never thought it would be like this. I can't bear it, I can't. Halsey and I stood helpless before the storm. I would have tried to comfort her, but she had put me away, and there was something aloof in her grief, something new and strange. At last, when her sorrow had subsided to the dry-shaking sobs of a tired child, without raising her head, she pulled out one groping hand. Untray, she whispered. In a moment I was on my knees beside her, her arm around my neck, her cheek against my hair. Where am I in this? Halsey said suddenly, and tried to pull his arms around us both. It was a welcome distraction, and Gertrude was soon herself again. The little storm had cleared the air. Nevertheless, my opinion remained unchanged. There was much to be cleared up before I could consent to any renewal of my acquaintance with John Bailey, and Halsey and Gertrude knew it, knowing me. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 The Circular Staircase This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Reinhardt. Chapter 11 Halsey Makes a Capture It was about half past eight when we left the dining room and still engrossed with one subject, the failure of the bank and its attendance. Evils Halsey and I went out into the grounds for a stroll Gertrude followed us shortly. The light was sickening to appropriate Shakespeare's description of twilight, and once again the tree toads and the crickets were making night throb with their tiny life. It was almost oppressively lonely in spite of its beauty, and I felt a sickling pang of homesickness for my city at night, for the clatter of horses feed on cemented paving, for the lights, the voices, the sound of children playing. The country after dark oppresses me, the stars quite eclipsed in the city by the electric lights here become insistent, assertive. Whether I want to or not, I find myself looking for the few I know by name and feeling ridiculously new and small by contrast, always an unpleasant sensation. After Gertrude joined us, we avoided any further mention of the murder. To Halsey, as to me, there was ever present, I was sure, the thought of our conversation of the night before. As we strolled back and forth along the drive, Mr Jamison emerged from the shadow of the trees. Good evening, he said, managing to include Gertrude in his bow. Gertrude had never been even ordinarily courteous to him, and she nodded coldly. Halsey, however, was more cordial, although we were all constrained enough. He and Gertrude went on together, leaving the detective to walk with me. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to me. Do you know, Miss Sinus, he said, the deeper I go into this scene, the more strange it seems to me. I am very sorry for Miss Gertrude. It looks as if Bailey, whom she has tried so hard to save, is worse than a rascal, and after her plucky fight for him, it seems hard. I look through the dusk to where Gertrude's light dinner dress gleamed among the trees. She had made a plucky fight, poor child. Whatever she might have been driven to do, I could find nothing but a deep sympathy for her, if she had only come to me with the whole truth then. Miss Sinus, Mr Jamison, was saying, in the last three days have you seen any suspicious figures around the grounds? Any woman? No, I replied. I have a house full of maids that will bear watching, one and all. But there has been no strange woman near the house, or Liddy would have seen her. You may be sure. She has a telescopic eye. Mr Jamison looked thoughtful. It may not amount to anything, he said slowly. It is difficult to get any perspective on things around here, because everyone down in the village is sure he saw the murderer, either before or since the crime, and half of them will stretch a point or two as to the facts to be obliging. But the man who drives the hack down there tells a story that may possibly prove to be important. I have heard it, I think. Was it the one the parlour made brought up yesterday about a ghost wringing its hands on the roof, or perhaps it's the one the milk boy heard, a tramp washing a dirty shirt, presumably bloody, in the creek below the bridge? I could see the gleam of Mr Jamison's teeth as he smiled. Neither, he said, but Matthew Geist, which is our friend's name, claims that on Saturday night at 9.30, a veiled lady. I knew it would be a veiled lady I broke in. A veiled lady, he persisted, who was apparently young and beautiful, engaged his hack and asked to be driven to Sunnyside, near the gate. However, she made him stop, in spite of his remonstrances, saying she preferred to walk to the house. She paid him, and he left her there. Now, Miss Innes, you had no such visitor, I believe? None, I said decidedly. Geist thought it might be a maid, as you had got a supply that day. He said her getting out near the gate puzzled him. Anyhow, we have now one veiled lady, who, with the ghostly intruder of Friday night, makes two assets that I hardly know what to do with. It is mystifying, I admitted, although I can think of one possible explanation. The path from the Greenwood Club to the village enters the road near the lodge gate. A woman who wished to reach the country club, unperceived, might choose such a method. There are plenty of women there. I think this gave him something to ponder, for in a short time he said good night and left, but I myself was far from satisfied. I was determined, however, on one thing. If my suspicions, for I had suspicions, were true, I would make my own investigations. And Mr Jemisin should learn only what was good for him to know. We went back to the house, and Gertrude, who was more like herself, since her talk with Halsey, sat down at the mahogany desk in the living room to write a letter. Halsey prowled up and down the entire East Wing, now in the card room, now in the billiard room, and now and then, blowing his clouds of tobacco smoke among the pink and gold hangings of the drawing room. After a little I joined him in the billiard room, and together we went over the details of the discovery of the body. The card room was quite dark. Where we sat in the billiard room, only one of the side brackets was lighted, and we spoke in subdued tones, as the hour and the subject seemed to demand. When I spoke of the figure Liddy, and I had seen on the porch through the card room window Friday night, Halsey sorted into the darkened room, and together we stood there, much as Liddy and I had done that other night. The window was the same greyish rectangle in the blackness as before. A few feet away in the hall was the spot where the body of Arnold Armstrong had been found. I was a bit nervous, and I put my hand on Halsey's sleeve. Suddenly, from the top of the staircase above us, came the sound of a cautious footstep. At first I was not sure, but Halsey's attitude told me he had heard and was listening. The step, slow, measured, infinitely cautious, was nearer now. Halsey tried to loosen my fingers, but I was in a perilous affright. The swish of a body against the curving rail, as if the guidance was plain enough, and now whoever it was had reached the foot of the staircase and had caught a glimpse of our rigid silhouettes against the billiard room doorway. Halsey threw me off then and strode forward. Who is it? he called imperiously, and took a half dozen rapid strides toward the foot of the staircase. Then I heard him mutter something. There was the crash of a falling body, the slam of the outer door, and, for an instant, quiet. I screamed, I think. Then I remembered turning on the lights and finding Halsey, white with fury, trying to untangle himself from something warm and fleecing. He had culled his forehead a little on the lower step of the stairs, and he was rather a ghastly sight. He flung the white object at me, and, jerking open the outer door, raced into the darkness. Gertrude had come on hearing the noise, and now we stood, staring at each other over, of all things on earth, a white silk and wool blanket, exquisitely fine. It was the most unghastly thing in the world. With its lavender border and its faint scent, Gertrude was the first to speak. Somebody had it, she asked. Yes, Halsey tried to stop whoever it was and fell. Gertrude, that blanket is not mine. I have never seen before. She held it up and looked at it. Then she went to the door on the veranda and threw it open. Perhaps a hundred feet from the house were two figures that moved slowly toward us as we looked. When they came within range of the light, I recognised Halsey, and with him Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper. End of Chapter 11 The most commonplace incident takes on a new appearance if the attendant's circumstances are unusual. There was no reason on earth why Mrs. Watson should not have carried a blanket down the east wing staircase if she so desired. But to take a blanket down at eleven o'clock at night, with every precaution is to noise, and when discovered to fling it at Halsey and Bolt, Halsey's word and a good one into the grounds, this made the incident more than significant. They moved slowly across the lawn and up the steps. Halsey was talking quietly, and Mrs. Watson was looking down and listening. She was a woman of a certain amount of dignity, most efficient so far as I could see, although Lily would have found fault if she dared. But just now Mrs. Watson's face was unenigma. She was defiant, I think, under a mask of submission, and she still showed the effect of nervous shock. Mrs. Watson, I said severely, would you be so good as to explain this rather unusual occurrence? I don't think it's so unusual, Miss Innes. Her voice was deep and very clear. Just now it was somewhat treacherous. I was taking a blanket down to Thomas, who is not well tonight, and I used these staircases being nearer the path to the lodge when Mr. Innes called and then rushed at me. I was alarmed and flung the blanket at him. Halsey was examining the cut on his forehead in a small mirror on the wall. It was not much of an injury, but it had bled freely, and his appearance was rather terrifying. Thomas ill, he said, over his shoulder. Why, I thought I saw Thomas out there as you made that psychotic break out of the door and over the porch. I could see that under pretence of examining his injury he was watching her through the mirror. Is this one of the servants' blankets, Mrs. Watson? I asked, holding up his luxurious folds to the light. Everything else is locked away, she replied, which was true enough, no doubt. I had rented the house without bed furnishings. If Thomas ill, Halsey said, some member of the family ought to go down to see him. You needn't bother, Mrs. Watson. I will take the blanket. She drew herself up quickly as if in protest, but she found nothing to say.  Then she seemed to make up her mind. Very well, Mr. Innes, she said. Perhaps you would better go. I have done all I could. And then she turned and went up the circular staircase, moving slowly and with a certain dignity. Below the three of us stared at one another across the intervening white blanket. Upon my word Halsey broke out.  I have the feeling that we three outsiders and our money for the privilege of staying in this spooked factory are living on the very top of things. We're on the lid, so to speak. Now and then we get the sight of the things inside, but we are not a part of them. Do you suppose, Gertrude asked doubtfully, that she really meant that blanket for Thomas? Thomas was standing beside that magnolia tree, Halsey replied, when I ran after Mrs. Watson. Stand to this, Aunt Ray. Rose's basket and Mrs. Watson's blanket can only mean one thing. There is somebody hiding or being hidden in the lodge. It wouldn't surprise me if you hold the key to the whole situation now. Anyhow, I'm going to the lodge to investigate. Gertrude wanted to go too, but she looked so shaken that I insisted she should not. I sent for Liddy to help her to bed, and Halsey and I started for the lodge. The grass was heavy with dew, and, men-like, Halsey chose the shortest way across the lawn. Halfway, however, he stopped. Quit better go by the drive, he said. This isn't a lawn, it's a field. Where's the gardener these days? There isn't any, I said meekly. We've been thankful enough so far to have our meals prepared and served, and the beds aired. The gardener who belongs here is working at the club. Remind me tomorrow to send out a man from town, he said. I know the very fellow. I record this crap of conversation just as I have tried to put down anything and everything, but had a bearing on what followed, because the gardener Halsey sent the next day played an important part in the events of the next few weeks, events that culminated, as you know, by stirring the country profoundly. At that time, however, I was busy trying to keep my skirts dry and pay little or no attention to what seemed then a most trivial remark. Along the drive I showed Halsey where I had found Rosie's basket with the bits of broken china piled inside. He was rather skeptical. Warner probably, he said, when I had finished. Began it as a joke on Rosie and ended up picking up the broken china out of the road, knowing it would play hob with the tires of the car. Which shows how near one can come to the truth and yet miss it altogether. At the lodge everything was quiet. There was a light in the sitting-room downstairs and a faint gleam as if from a shaded lamp in one of the upper rooms. Halsey stopped and examined the lodge with calculating eyes. I don't know, Aunt Ray, he said dubiously. This is hardly a woman's affair. If there's a scrap of any kind, you hike for the timber. Which was Halsey's solicitude's care for me put into vernacular. I shall stay right here, I said, and crossing the small veranda now shaded and fragrant with honeysuckle I hammered the knocker on the door. Thomas opened the door himself. Thomas, fully dressed and in his customary health. I had the blanket over my arm. I brought the blanket, Thomas, I said, and I am sorry you are so ill. The old man stood staring at me and then at the blanket. His confusion under other circumstances would have been ludicrous. What? Not ill? Halsey said from the step. Thomas, I'm afraid you've been malingering. Thomas seemed to have been debating something with himself. Now he stepped out on the porch and closed the door gently behind him. I reckon you better come in, Miss Innes, he said speaking cautiously. It's got so I don't know what to do and it's bound to come out some time or other. He threw the door open then and I stepped inside, Halsey closed behind. In the sitting-room the old negro turned with quiet dignity to Halsey. You better sit down, sir, he said. It's a place for a woman, sir. Things were not turning out the way Halsey expected. He sat down on the centre-table with his hands trust in his pockets and watched me as I followed Thomas up the narrow stairs.  He shrank back a little but I said nothing and then Thomas motioned to a partly open door and I went in. The large posted three-bedroom sub-stairs all comfortably furnished. In this one the largest and airiest a night lamp was burning and by its light I could make out a plain white metal bed. A girl was asleep there on a half-stupor for she muttered something now and then. Rosy had taken her courage in her hands and coming in had turned up the light. It was only then that I knew. Fever flushed, ill as she was, I recognised Louie's armstrong. I stood gazing down at her in a stupor of amazement. Louie's here, hiding at the lodge, ill and alone. Rosy came up to the bed and smoothed the white counter-pane. I'm afraid she's worse to-night. She ventured at last. I put my hand on the sick girl's forehead. It was burning with fever and I turned to where Thomas lingered in the hallway. Will you tell me, Thomas Johnson, what you mean by not telling me this before? I demanded indignantly. Thomas quailed. Miss Louise wouldn't let me, he said earnestly. I want to. She ought to have had a doctor the night she came. She won't heed to it. Is she... is she very bad, Miss Innes? Bad enough, I said coldly. Send Mr. Innes up. Halsey came up the stairs slowly, looking rather interested and inclined to be amused. For a moment he could not see anything distinctly in the darkened room. He stopped, glanced at Rosy and at me, and then his eyes fell on the restless head on the pillow. I think he fell to it was before he really saw her. He crossed a room in a couple of strides and bent over the bed. Louise, he said softly, but she did not reply, and her eyes showed no recognition. Halsey was young and illness was new to him. He straightened himself slowly, still watching her and caught my arm. She's dying, Aunt Ray, he said huskily. Dying? Why, she doesn't know me. Fudge, I snapped, being apt to grow irritable when my sympathies are aroused. She's doing nothing of the sort. And don't pinch my arm. If you want something to do, go and choke Thomas. But at that moment Louise roused from her stupor to cough and at the end of the paroxysm as Rosy laid her back exhausted, she knew us. That was all Halsey wanted. To him consciousness was recovery. He dropped on his knees beside the bed and tried to tell her she was all right and we would bring her around in a hurry and how beautiful she looked, only to break down utterly and have to stop. And at that I came to my senses and put him out. This instant I ordered as he hesitated and sent Rosy here. He did not go far. He sat on the top step of the stairs, only leaving the telephone for a doctor and getting in everybody's way in his eagerness to fetch and carry. I got him away finally by sending him to fix up the car as his sort of ambulance, in case the doctor would allow the sick girl to be moved. He sent Kurtre down to the lodge loaded with all manner of impossible things, including an armful of Turkish towels and a box of mustard plasters. And as the two girls had known each other somewhat before, Louise brightened perceptibly when he saw her. When the doctor from Englewood, the cast and over doctor Dr. Walker being away, had started for a sunny side and I had got Thomas to stop trying to explain what he did not understand himself, I had a long talk with the old man and this is what I learned. On Saturday evening before about ten o'clock he had been reading in the sitting-room downstairs someone wrapped at the door. The old man was alone who are not having arrived and at first he was uncertain about opening the door. He did so finally and was amazed at being confronted by Louise Armstrong. Thomas was an old family servant, having been with the present Mrs. Armstrong since she was a child and he was overwhelmed at seeing Louise. He saw that she was excited and tired and he drew her into the sitting-room and made her sit down. After a while he went to the house and brought Mrs. Watson and they talked until late. The old man said Louise was in trouble and seemed frightened. Mrs. Watson made some tea and took it to the lodge but Louise made them both promise to keep her presence a secret. She had not known that sunny side was rented and whatever her trouble was this complicated things. She seemed puzzled. Her stepfather and her mother are still in California that was all she would say about them while she had run away no one could imagine. Mr. Arnold Armstrong was at the Greenwood Club and at last Thomas, not knowing what else to do went over there along the path. It was almost midnight. Partway over he met Armstrong himself and brought him to the lodge. Mrs. Watson had gone to the house for some bed linen it having been arranged that under the circumstances Louise would be better at the lodge until morning. Arnold Armstrong and Louise had a long conference during which he was heard to storm and become very violent. When he left it was after two. He had gone up to the house. Thomas did not know why and at three o'clock he was shot at the foot of the circular staircase. The following morning Louise had been ill. She had asked for Arnold and was told he had left town. Thomas had not the moral courage to tell her of the crime. She refused a doctor and shrank morbidly from having her presence known. Mrs. Watson and Thomas had had their hands full and at last Rosie had been enlisted to help them. She carried necessary provisions little enough to the lodge and help to keep the secret. Thomas told me quite frankly that he had been anxious to keep Louise's presence hidden for this reason. They had all seen Arnold Armstrong that night and he himself for one was known to have had no very friendly feeling for the dead men. As to the reason for Louise's flight from California or why she had not gone to the Fitzhughes to some of her people in town he had no more information than I had. With the death of her stepfather and the prospect of the immediate return of the family things had become more and more impossible. I gathered that Thomas was as relieved as I at the turn events had taken. No, she did not know of either of the deaths in the family. Taken all around I had only substituted one mystery for another. If I knew now why Rosie had taken the basket of dishes I did not know who had spoken to her and followed her along the drive. If I knew that Louise was in the lodge I did not know why she was there. If I knew that Arnold Armstrong had spent some time in the lodge the night before he was murdered I was no nearer the solution of the crime. Who was the midnight intruder who had so alarmed Liddy and myself? Who had fallen down the clothes shoot? Was Gertrude's lover a villain or a victim? Time was to answer all these things. End of Chapter 12 Recording by Wynna Hathaway in Fayetteville, North Carolina Chapter 13 of the Circular Staircase This is a Libby Vox recording While Libby Vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibbyVox.org Recording by Wynna Hathaway The Circular Staircase by Mary Robert Schreinhardt Chapter 13 Louise The doctor from Englewood came very soon and I went up to see the sick girl with him. Halsey had gone to supervise the fitting of the car with blankets and pillows and Gertrude was opening and airing Louise's own room set the house. Her private sitting-room, bedroom and dressing-room were as they had been when we came. They occupied the end of the East Wing beyond the Circular Staircase and we had not even opened them. The girl herself was too ill to notice what was being done. When, with the help of the doctor who was a fatherly man with a family of girls at home we got her to the house and up the stairs into bed. She dropped into a feverish sleep which lasted until morning. Dr. Stewart, that was the Englewood doctor stayed almost all night giving the medicine himself and watching her closely. Afterward he told me that she had had a narrow escape from pneumonia and that the cerebral symptoms had been rather alarming.  He left after breakfast saying that he thought the worst of the danger was over and that she must be kept very quiet. The shock of two deaths are supposed to stun this, he remarked picking up his case. It has been very deplorable. I hastened to set him right. She does not know of either doctor. I said please do not mention them to her. He looked as surprised as the medical man ever does. I do not know the family. He said preparing to get into his top buggy. Young Walker down in Casanova has been attending them. I understand he is going to marry this young lady. You have been misinformed, I said stiffly. Miss Armstrong is going to marry my nephew. The doctors smiled as he picked up the reins. Young ladies are changeable these days, he said. We thought the wedding was to occur soon. Well I will stop in this afternoon to see how my patient is getting along. He drove away then and I stood looking after him. He was a doctor of the old school, of the class of family practitioner that is fast dying out, a loyal and honorable gentleman who was at once physician and confidential advisor to his patients. When I was a girl we called in the doctor alike when we had measles or when mother's sister died in the far west. He cut out redundant tonsils and brought the babies with the same air of inspiring self-confidence. Nowadays it requires a different specialist for each of these occurrences. When the babies cried all Dr. Wainwright gave them peppermint and dropped warm sweet oil in their ears with sublime faith that if it was not colic it was ear ache. When at the end of a year father met him driving in his high sidebar buggy with the white mare ambling along and asked for a bill the doctor used to go home, estimate what his services were worth for that period, divided in half, I don't think he kept any books and sent father a statement in a cramped hand on a sheet of ruled white paper. He was an honored guest at all the weddings, christenings and funerals. Yes, funerals. For everyone knew he had done his best and there was no gain saying the ways of Providence. How well Dr. Wainwright is gone and I am an elderly woman with an increasing tendency to live in the past. The contrast between my old doctor at home and the Casanova doctor Frank Walker always rouses me to wrath and digression. Some time about noon of that day, Wednesday, Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh telephoned me. I have the barest acquaintance with her. She managed to be put on the governing board of the old lady's home and ruins their digestions by sending them ice cream and cake on every holiday. Beyond that and their reputation at Bridge, which is insufferably bad. She is the worst player at the Bridge Club. I know little of her. It was she who had taken charge of Armored Armstrong's funeral, however, and I went at once to the telephone. Yes, I said. This is Miss Innis. Miss Innis, she said voluply. I have just received a very strange telegram from my cousin Mrs. Armstrong. Her husband died yesterday in California and, wait, I will read you the message. I knew what was coming and I made up my mind at once. If Lois Armstrong had a good and sufficient reason for leaving her people and coming home, a reason, moreover, that kept her from going at once to Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh and that brought her to the large at Sunnyside instead, it was not my intention to betray her. Lois herself must notify her people. I do not justify myself now, but remember I was in a peculiar position toward the Armstrong family. I was connected most unpleasantly with the cold blooded crime and my niece and nephew were practically beggared either directly or indirectly through the head of the family. Mrs. Fitzhugh had found the message. Paul died yesterday, heart disease, she read, why at once if Lois is with you? You see, Miss Innis, Lois must have started east and Fanny is alarmed about her. Yes, I said. Lois is not here, Mrs. Fitzhugh went on. And none of her friends, the few who are still in town, have seen her. I called you because Sunnyside was not rented when she went away and Lois might have gone there. I am sorry, Mrs. Fitzhugh, but I cannot help you. I said, and was immediately filled with compunction. Suppose Lois grew worse. Who was I to play Providence in this case? The anxious mother certainly had a right to know that her daughter was in good hands. So I broke in on Mrs. Fitzhugh's excuses for disturbing me. Mrs. Fitzhugh, I said, I was going to let you think I knew nothing about Lois Armstrong, but I have changed my mind. Lois is here, with me. There was a clatter of ejaculation at the other end of the wire. She is ill and not able to be moved. Moreover, she is unable to see anyone. I wish she would wire her mother that she is with me and ask her not to worry. No, I do not know why she came east. But, my dear Miss Innis, Mrs. Fitzhugh began, I cut in ruthlessly.  No, she is not in a critical state now, but the doctor says she must have absolute quiet. When I had hung up the receiver, I sat down to think. So Lois had fled from her people in California and had come east alone. It was not a new idea, but why had she done it? It occurred to me that Dr. Walker might be concerned in it, might possibly have bothered her with unwelcome attentions. But it seemed to me that Lois was hardly a girl to take refuge in flight under such circumstances. She had always been high-spirited, the well-poised head and buoyant step of the outdoors girl. It must have been much more in keeping with Lois's character, as I knew it, to resent vigorously any unwelcome attentions from Dr. Walker. It was the suitor whom I should have expected to see in headlong flight, not the lady in the case. The puzzle was no clearer at the end of the half-hour. I picked up the morning papers which were still full of the looting of the traders' bank, the interest at fever height again on account of Paul Armstrong's death. The bank examiners were working on the books and said nothing for publication. John Bailey had been released on bond. The body of Paul Armstrong would arrive Sunday and would be buried from the Armstrong townhouse.  The last paragraph was the important one. Walter P. Broadhurst of the Marine Bank had produced 200 American traction bonds, which had been placed as security with the Marine Bank for a loan of $160,000 made to Paul Armstrong just before his California trip. The bonds were a part of the missing traction bonds from the traders' bank. While this involved the late president of the rec bank, to my mind it by no means cleared its cashier. The gardener mentioned by Halsey came out about two o'clock in the afternoon and walked up from the station. I was favorably impressed by him. His references were good. He had been employed by the Brays until they went to Europe and he looked young and vigorous. He asked for one assistant and I was glad enough to get off so easily. He was a pleasant-faced young fellow with black hair and blue eyes and his name was Alex Sander Graham. I've been particular about Alex because, as I said before, he played an important part later. That afternoon I had a new insight into the character of the dead banker. I had my first conversation with Louise. She sent for me and against my better judgment I went. There were so many things she could not be told in her weakened condition that I dreaded the interview. It was much easier than I expected, however, because she asked no questions. Kirtrude had gone to bed, having been up almost all night, and Halsey was absent on one of those mysterious absences of his that grew more and more frequent as time went on until it culminated in the event of the night of June the 10th. Lydia was in attendance in the sick room. There being little or nothing to do, she seemed to spend her time smoothing the wrinkles from the counterpane. Louise lay under a field of virgin white, folded back at an angle of geometrical exactness, and necessitating a readjustment every time the sick girl turned. Lydia heard my approach and came out to meet me. She seemed to be in a perpetual state of goose-flesh, and she had got in the habit of looking past me when she talked, as if she saw things. It had the effect of making me look over my shoulder to see what she was staring at and was intensely irritating. She's awake. Lydia said, looking and easily down the circular staircase which was beside me. She was talking in her sleep something awful about dead men and coffins. Lydia, I said sternly, did you breathe a word about everything not being right here? Lydia's gaze had wandered to the door of the chute, now bolted securely. Not a word, she said, beyond asking her a question or two, which there was no harm in. She says there never was a ghost known here. I glared at her, speechless, and closing the door into Louise's boudoir to Lydia's great disappointment, I went on to the bedroom beyond. Whatever Paul Armstrong had been, he had been lavish with his step-daughter. Gertrude's rooms at home were always beautiful apartments, but the three rooms in the east wing at Sunnyside, set apart for the daughter of the house, were much more splendid. From the walls to the rugs on the floor, from the furniture to the appointments of the bath, with its pools sunk in the floor instead of the customary, unlovely tub, everything was luxurious. In the bedroom, Louise was watching for me. It was easy to see that she was much improved. The flush was going, and the peculiar gasping breathing of the night before was now a comfortable and easy respiration. She held out her hand, and I took it between both of mine. What can I say to you, Miss Innis? She said slowly, to have come like this. I thought she was going to break down, but she did not. You are not to think of anything but of getting well, I said, patting her hand. When you are better, I'm going to scold you for not coming here at once. This is your home, my dear, and of all people in the world, Halsey's old aunt ought to make you welcome. She smiled a little sadly, I thought. I ought not to see Halsey, she said. Miss Innis, there are a great many things which you will never understand, I'm afraid. I'm an imposter on your sympathy, because I stay here and let you lavish care on me, and all the time I know you're going to despise me. Nonsense, I said briskly. Why, what would Halsey do to me if I even ventured such a thing?  Indeed he would be quite capable of it. She seemed scarcely to hear my facetious tone. She had eloquent brown eyes. The Innis's are fair and are prone to a grayish green optic that is better for use than appearance, and they seem now to be clouded with trouble. Poor Halsey, she said softly. Miss Innis, I cannot marry him, and I'm afraid to tell him.  A coward! I sat beside the bed and stared at her.  You will talk about that when you are stronger. I said gently. But there are some things I must tell you, she insisted. You must wonder how I came here and why I stayed hidden at the lodge. Dear old Thomas had been almost crazy, Miss Innis. I did not know that Sunnyside was rented. I knew my mother wished to rent it without telling my stepfather, but the news must have reached her after I left. When I started East I had only one idea, to be alone with my thoughts for a time, to bury myself here. Then I must have taken a cold on the train. You came East in clothing suitable for California, I said, and like all young girls nowadays, I don't suppose you wear flannels. But she was not listening. Miss Innis, she said, has my step-brother Arnold gone away? What do you mean? I was startled, but Louise was literal. He didn't come back that night, she said, and it was so important that I should see him. I believe he has gone away, I replied, and certainly. Isn't it something we could attend to instead? But she shook her head. I must do it myself, she said, duly. My mother must have rented Sunnyside to my step-father, and Miss Innis, did you ever hear of anyone being wretchedly poor in the midst of luxury? Did you ever long and long for money, money to use without question, money that no one would take you to task about?  But we have never had any money, Miss Innis. That must have been why my mother rented this house. My step-father pays out bills. It's the most maddening, humiliating existence in the world. I would love honest poverty better. Never mind, I said. When you and Halsey are married, you can be as honest as you like, and you will certainly be poor. Halsey came to the door at that moment, and I could hear him coaxing Liddy for admission to the sick-room. Shall I bring him in? I asked Louise, uncertain what to do. The girl seemed to shrink back among her pillows at the sound of his voice. I was vaguely irritated with her. There are a few young fellows like Halsey, straightforward, honest, and willing to sacrifice everything for the one woman. I knew one once more than thirty years ago who was like that. He died a long time ago, and sometimes I take out his picture with its cane and its queer silk hat, and I look at it. But of late years it has grown too painful. He is always a boy, and I am an old woman. I would not bring him back if I could. Perhaps it was some such memory that made me call out sharply. Come in, Halsey. And then I took my sewing and went into the boudoir beyond to play propriety. I did not try to hear what they said, but every word came through the open door with curious distinctness. Halsey had evidently gone over to the bed, and I suppose he kissed her. There was silence for a moment, as if words were superfluous things. I have been almost wild, sweetheart. Halsey's voice. Why didn't you trust me and sent for me before? It was because I couldn't trust myself, she said in a low tone. I am too weak to struggle today. Oh Halsey, how I have wanted to see you. There was something I did not hear. Ten, Halsey again. We could go away. He was saying, what does it matter about anyone in the world, but just the two of us? To be always together like this, hand in hand. Louise, don't tell me it isn't going to be. I won't believe you. You don't know. You don't know. Louise repeated dully. Halsey, I care. You know that, but not enough to marry you. That is not true, Louise, he said sternly. You cannot look at me with your honest eyes and say that. I cannot marry you, she repeated miserably. It's bad enough, isn't it? Don't make it worse. Someday before long you will be glad. Then it is because you never loved me. There were depths of hurt pride in his voice.   There is something you haven't told me. Is it because there is someone else? Yes, almost inaudibly. Louise, oh, I don't believe it. It is true, she said sadly. Halsey, you must not try to see me again. As soon as I can I am going away from here where you are all so much kinder than I deserve. And whatever you hear about me try to think of me as well as you can. I am going to marry another man.  I could hear Halsey cross the room through the window. Then after a pause he went back to her again. I could hardly sit still. I wanted to go in and give her a good shaking. Then it's all over. He was saying with a long breath, the plans you made together, the hopes, the all of it, over. Well, I'll not be a baby and I'll give you up the minute you say I don't love you and I do love someone else. I cannot say that, she breathed. But very soon I shall marry the other man. I could hear Halsey's low triumphant laugh. I defy him, he said. Sweetheart, as long as you care for me I am not afraid. The wind slammed the door between the two rooms just then and I could hear nothing more, although I moved my chair quite close. After a discreet interval I went into the other room and found Louise alone. She was staring with sad eyes at the sherob painted on the ceiling over the bed and because she looked tired I did not disturb her. End of Chapter 13 Recording by Winna Hathaway in Fayetteville, North Carolina Chapter 14 An eggnog and a telegram. We had discovered Louise at the lodge Tuesday night. It was Wednesday I had my interview with her. Thursday and Friday were uneventful save as they marked improvement in our patient. Gertrude spent almost all the time with her and the two had grown to be great friends. But certain things hung over me constantly. The coroner's inquest on the death of Arnold Armstrong to be held Saturday and the arrival of Mrs. Armstrong and young Dr. Walker bringing the body of the dead president of the Traders Bank. We had not told Louise of either death. Then too I was anxious about the children. With their mother's inheritance swept away in the wreck of the bank and with their love affairs in a disastrous condition things could scarcely be worse. Added to that the cook and lady had the flare-up over the proper way to make beef tea for Louise and, of course, the cook left. Mrs. Watson had been glad enough, I think, to turn Louise over to our care and Thomas went upstairs, night and morning to greet his young mistress from the doorway. Poor Thomas! He had the faculty, found still in some old negroes, put cling to the traditions of slavery days of making his employer's interests his. It was always we with Thomas. I miss him sorely, pipe-smoking, obsequious, not over-reliable kindly old men. On Thursday Mr. Harden, the Armstrong's legal advisor, called up from town. He had been advised, he said, that Mrs. Armstrong was coming east with her husband's body and would arrive Monday. He came with some hesitation, he went on, to the fact that he had been further instructed to ask me to relinquish my lease on Sunnyside as it was Mrs. Armstrong's desire to come directly there. I was aghast. Here, I said, surely you are mistaken, Mr. Harden. I would think, after what happened here only a few days ago, she would never wish to come back. Nevertheless, he replied, she is most anxious to come. This is what she says. Use every possible means to have Sunnyside vacated. Must go there at once. Mr. Harden, I said testily, I am not going to do anything of the kind. I and mine have suffered enough at the hands of this family. I rented the house at an exorbitant figure and I have moved out here for the summer. My city-home is dismantled and in the hands of decorators. I have been here one week, during which I have not had a single night of uninterrupted sleep and I intend to stay until I have recuperated. Moreover, if Mr. Armstrong died insolvent, as I believe was the case, his widow ought to be glad to be rid of so expensive a piece of property. The lawyer cleared his throat. I am very sorry you have made this decision, he said, Miss Innis. Mrs. Fitzhugh tells me Louis Armstrong is with you. She is. Has she been informed of this double bereavement? Not yet, I said. She has been very ill. Perhaps tonight she can be told. It is very sad, very sad, he said. I have a telegram for her, Miss Innis. Shall I send it out? Better open it and read it to me, I suggested. If it is important, that will save time. There was a pause while Mr. Harton opened the telegram. Then he read it slowly, judicially. Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday. Signed FLW. Hmm, I said. Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday. Very well, Mr. Harton. I will tell her. But she is not in condition to watch for anyone.  I shall not relinquish it, I replied, and I imagined his irritation from the way he hung up the receiver. I wrote the telegram down word for word, afraid to trust my memory, and decided, as Dr. Stewart, how soon Louis might be told the truth. For the closing of the Traders Bank, I considered unnecessary for her to know, but the death of her step-father and step-brother must be broken to her soon, or she might hear it in some unexpected and shocking manner. Dr. Stewart came about four o'clock, bringing his leather satchel into the house with a great deal of care, and opening it at the foot of the stairs to show me a dozen big yellow eggs nesting among the bottles. Real eggs, he said proudly. None of you are anemic store eggs, a real thing. Some of them still warm. Fill them. Eggnog for Mr. Weeks. He was beaming with satisfaction, and before he left, he insisted in going back to the pantry and making an eggnog with his own hands. Somehow, all the time he was doing it, I had a vision of Dr. Willoughby, my nerve specialist in the city, trying to make an eggnog. I wondered if he ever prescribed anything so plebeian and so delicious. And while Dr. Stewart whisked the eggs, he talked. I said to Mrs. Stewart, he confided, a little red in the face from the exertion. After I went home the other day, that she would think me an old gossip for saying what I did about Walker and Miss Louise. Nothing of the sort, I protested. The fact is, he went on evidently trustifying himself, I got that piece of information just as we get a lot of things through the kitchen end of the house. Young Walker's chauffeur, Walker's more fashionable than I am and he goes around the country in a stand-hold car. Well, his chauffeur comes to see our servant girl, and he told her the whole thing. I thought it was probable, because Walker spent a lot of time up here last summer, when the family was here and besides, Riggs, that's Walker's man, had a very pat little story about the doctors building a house on this property, just at the foot of the hill. The sugar, please. The eggnog was finished. Drop by drop, the liquor had cooked the egg, and now, with a final whisk, a last toss in the shaker, it was ready, a symphony in gold and white. The doctors lifted. Real eggs, real milk, and a touch of real Kentucky whiskey, he said. He insisted on carrying it up himself, but at the foot of the stairs he paused. Riggs said the plans were drawn for the house, he said, harking back through the old subject. Drawn by Houston in town, so I naturally believed him. When the doctor came down, I was ready with a question. Doctor, I asked, is there anyone in the neighborhood named Carrington, Nina Carrington? Carrington, he wrinkled his forehead. Carrington. No, I don't remember any such family, there used to be Carrington's down the creek. The name was Carrington, I said, and the subject lapsed. Gertrude and Halsey went for a long walk that afternoon, and Louise slept. Time hung heavy on my hands, and I did as I had fallen into a habit of doing lately. I sat down and thought things over. One result of my meditations was that I got up suddenly and went to the telephone. I had taken the most intense dislike to this Doctor Walker whom I had never seen and who was being talked of in the countryside as the fiance of Louise Armstrong. I knew Sam Houston well. There had been a time when Sam was a good deal younger than he is now before he had married Anne Endicott, when I knew him even better. So now I felt no hesitation in calling him over the telephone. But when his office boy had given way to his confidential clerk, and that functionary had condescended to connect his employer's desk telephone, I was somewhat at a loss as to how to begin. Why, how are you, Rachel? Sam said sonorously. Going to build that house at Rockview? It was a twenty-year-old joke of his. Sometime, perhaps, I said, just now I want to ask you a question about something which is not of my business. I see you haven't changed an iota in a quarter of a century, Rachel. This was intended to be another jest. Ask ahead. Everything but my domestic affairs is at your service. Try to be serious, I said. And tell me this, has your firm made any plans for a house recently for a Dr. Walker at Casanova? Yes, we have. Where was it to be built? I have a reason for asking. It was to be, I believe, on the Armstrong Place. Mr. Armstrong himself consulted me, and the inference was, in fact, I'm quite certain the house was to be occupied by Mr. Armstrong's daughter who was engaged to marry Dr. Walker. When the architect had inquired of the different members of my family and had finally rung off, I was certain of one thing. Louise Armstrong was in love with Halsey, and the man she was going to marry was Dr. Walker. Moreover, this decision was not new. Marriage had been contemplated for some time. There must certainly be some explanation. But what was it? That day I repeated to Louise the telegram Mr. Hardin had opened. She seemed to understand, but an unhappier face I have never seen. She looked like a criminal whose reprieve is over and the day of execution approaching. Chapter 15 of the Circular Stereocase This is a Librebox recording. All Librebox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit Librebox.org Recording by NSVC Mount Portugal The Circular Stereocase by Mary Roberts Reinhardt Chapter 15 Lady Gives the Alarm The Circular Stereocase by Mary Roberts Reinhardt Chapter 15 The Circular Alarm The next day, thriving Chutrut wrote news of her stepfather's death to Louise She did as gently as she could telling her first that he was very ill and finally that he was dead. Louise received news in the most unexpected manner and when Chutrut came out to tell me how she had stood it I think she was almost shocked. She just lay and stared at me and raised. She said Do you know? I believe she's glad, glad, and she's too honest to pretend anything else. What sort of a man was Mr. Paul Armstrong anyhow? He was a bully as well as a rest called your truth, I said, but I am convinced of one thing.  For Louise has steadily refused to see Halsey all day, and the boy is frantic. We had a quiet hour, Halsey and I, that evening, and I told him several things, about requests that we give up at least to set aside, about telegram to Louise, about rumors of an approaching marriage between the girl and Dr. Walker, and, last of all, my own interview with her the day before. He sat back in a big chair, with his face in the shadow, and my heart fairly ached for him. He was too big and so boyish. When I had finished, he drew a long breath. Whatever Louise does, he said, nothing will convince me and Ray that she doesn't care for me, and up to two months ago, when she and her mother went west, I was the happiest fellow on earth. Then something made a difference. She wrote me that her people were opposed to the marriage, and her feeling for me was what it had always been, but that something had happened which had changed her ideas as to the future. I was not to write until she wrote me, and whatever occurred, I was to think the best I could of her. It sounded like a puzzle. When I saw her yesterday, it was the same thing, only perhaps worse. I asked, have you any idea of the nature of the interview between Louise Armstrong and Arnold, the night he was murdered? It was stormy. Thomas said once or twice he almost broke into the room. He was so alarmed for Louise. Another thing, I said, have you ever heard Louise mention a woman named Carrington, Nina Carrington? Never. He said positively. For try-hats we would, our thoughts always came back to the fatal Saturday night and the murder. Every conversational path led to it, and we all felt that Jameson was tightening the threads of evidence around John Bailey. Detective's absence was hardly reassuring. He must have had something to work on in town, or he would have returned. The people's report that the cashier of the Traders Bank was ill in his apartment at Nickerbocker, a condition not surprising considering everything. The guilt of the defunct president was no longer in doubt. Missing bonds had been advertised and some of them discovered. In every instance they had been used as collateral for large loans, and the belief was current that not less than a million and a half dollars had been realized. Everyone connected with the bank had been placed under arrest and released on heavy bond. Was he alone in his guilt, or was the cashier his accomplice? Where was the money? The state of that man was comparatively small, a city house on a fashionable street, sunny side, a large estate, largely mortgaged, an insurance of $50,000, and some personal property. This was all. The rest lost in speculation, probably, the paper said. There was one thing which looked uncomfortable for Jack Bailey. He and Paul Armstrong together had promoted a railroad company in New Mexico, and it was rumored that together they had sunk large sums of money there. The business alliance between the two men added to the belief that Bailey knew something of the looting. His unexplained absence from the bank on Monday lent color to suspicion against him. The strange thing seemed to be his surrendering himself on the point of departure. To me, it seemed the shrewd calculation of a clever rascal. I was not actively untignished to search for his lover, but I meant to be convinced, on one way or the other. I took no one on faith. That night, sunny side ghost began to walk again. Lydia had been sleeping in Louise's dressing room on a couch, and the approach of dusk was a signal for her to barricade the entire suite. Situated as it was, beyond circular staircase, nothing but an extremative excitement would have made her pass its after dark. I confess myself that the place seemed to me to have a sinister appearance, but we kept that wing well lighted, and until the lights went out at midnight it was really cheerful, if one did not know its history. On Friday night, then, I had gone to bed, resolved to go at once to sleep. Thoughts that insisted on obtruding themselves, I pushed resolutely to the back of my mind, and I systematically relaxed every muscle. I fell asleep soon, and was dreaming that Dr. Walker was building his new house immediately in front of my windows. I could hear the thump-thump of the hammers, and then I awaked to a noise that somebody was spawning on my door. I was up at once, and with sound of my footsteps on the floor, the low knocking ceased to be followed immediately by a sibilant whispering through the keyhole. Miss Rachel, Miss Rachel, somebody was saying, over and over. Is that you, Liddy? I asked, my hand on the knob. For the love of mercy, let me in, she said, in a low tone. She was leaning against the door, for when I opened it she fell in. She was greenish-white, and she had a red-and-black-beard flannel petticoat over her shoulders. Listen, she said, standing in the middle of the floor and holding on to me. Oh, Miss Rachel, it's the ghost of that dead man hammering to get in. Sure enough, there was a dull thud-thud-thud from someplace near. It was muffled, one rather felt than heard it, and it was impossible to locate. One moment it seemed to come, three taps and a pause from the floor under us. The next, thud-thud-thud, it came apparently from the wall. It's not a ghost, I said, silently. If it was a ghost, it wouldn't rep. It would come through the keyhole. Liddy looked at the hill. But it sounds very much as though someone is trying to break into the house. Liddy was shearing violently. At home he looked to get me my slippers, and she brought me a pair of key-globes, so I found my things myself and prepared to call Elsie. As before, the night alarm had found the electric lights gone. The whole, safer its night lamp, was in darkness, as I went across to Elsie's room. I hardly know what I feared, but it was a relieved finding there, very sound asleep, and with his door unlocked. Wake up, Elsie! I said, shaking him. He stirred a little. Liddy was half in and half out of the door, afraid as usually to be left alone, and not quite daring to enter. Her scruples seemed faith, however, all at once. She gave a suppressed yell, bolted into the room, and stood tightly, clutching footboard of the bed. Elsie was gradually waking. I've seen it, Liddy wailed. A woman in white on the hall. I paid no attention. Elsie, I persevere. Someone is breaking into the house. Get up, won't you? It isn't our house, he said, sleepily, and then he rose to the excessive occasion. All right, Andre. He said, still warning, if you let me get into something. It was all I could do to get Liddy out of the room. The demands of the occasion had no influence on her. She had seen the ghost, she persisted, and she wasn't going into the hall. But I got her over to my room at last, more dead than alive, and made her lie down on the bed. The tapings, which seemed to have ceased for a while, had commenced again, but they were fainter. Elsie came over in a few minutes, and stood listening and trying to locate sound. Give him a revolver, and ray. He said, and I got it, the one I had thrown in the tulip bed, and gave it to him. He solely did there and divined at once that Lewis was alone. You let me attend to this fellow, whoever it is, Andre, and go to Louise, will you? She may be awake and alarm. So, in spite of her protests, I left Liddy alone and went back to the East Wing. Perhaps I went a little faster past warning blackness of circular staircase, and I could hear Elsie creaking casually around the main staircase, draping, or pounding, at sea, and silence was almost painful. And then, suddenly, from apparently under my very feet, there was a woman's scream, a grive chair that broke off as suddenly as it came. I stood frozen and still. Every drop of my blood in my body seemed to lift surface and gather around my heart. In that silence that fell, it dropped as if it would burst.  She was not there. And of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of the Circular Staircase. This is a Learbox recording. All Learbox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit Learbox.org. Recording by Ana Sviacimão de Portugal. The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Reinhardt. Chapter 16. In the early morning. I stood looking at the empty bed. The coverings had been thrown back, and Louise's pink silk dressing gown was gone from the foot through that lane. The night lamp burned dimly, revealing the emptiness of the place. I picked it up, but my hand shook so that I put it down again, and got somehow to the door. Their voices in the hall on dirt route came running toward me. What is it? She cried. What was that sound? Where is Louise? She's not in her room. I said stupidly. I think it was she who screamed. Lydia joined us now, carrying a light. We stood huddled together at the head of the Circular Staircase, looking down into its shadows. There was nothing to be seen, and it was absolutely quiet down there. Then we heard Halsey running up the main staircase. He came quickly down the hall to where we were standing. There's no one trying to get in. I thought I heard someone trick. Who was it? Our striking faces told him the truth. Someone screamed down there. I said, and Louise is not in her room.  I followed him more slowly. My nerves seemed to be in a state of paralyzes. I could scarcely step. At footed stairs Halsey gave an exclamation and put down the light. And Ray, he called sharply.  She lay limp and wide, her dressing gown dragging loose from one's sleeve of her night dress, and the heavy braid of her dark hair stretching its length a couple of steps above her head, as if she had slipped down. She was not dead. Halsey put her down on the floor and began to rub her cold hands while her truth and lady ran for stimulants. As for me, I sat her at foot of that ghostly staircase. Said, because my knees wouldn't hold me, and wondered where it would all end. Louise was still unconscious, but she was breathing better, and I suggested that we get her back to bed before she came too. There was something grisly and horrible to me, seeing her there in almost same attitude and in the same place where we had found her brother's body. And to add similarity, just then the whole clock, far off, struck faintly three o'clock. It was four before Louise was able to talk, and first rays of dawn were coming through her windows which faced east before she could tell us currently what had occurred. I gave it as she told it. She lay propped in bed, and Halsey sat beside her and rebuffed and held her hand while she talked. I was not sleeping well. She began. Partly, I think, because I had slept during the afternoon. Lily brought me some hot milk at ten o'clock, and I slept until twelve. Then I awakened and I got thinking about things and worrying, so I could not go to sleep. I was wondering where I had not heard from Arnold since the... since I saw him that night at lunch. I was afraid he was ill, because he was to have done something for me and he had not come back. It must have been three when I heard someone rapping. I sat up and listened, to be quite sure, and the rapping kept up. He was cautious, and I was about to call Lily. Then suddenly I thought I knew what it was. The East entrance and circular staircase were always used by Arnold when he was out late, and sometimes, when he forgot his key, he dreads when I would go down and let him in. I thought he had come back to see me. I didn't think about the time, for his hours were always erratic, but I was afraid I was too weak to get downstairs. The knocking kept up, and just as I was about to call Lily, she ran through the room and out into the hall. I got up then, feeling weak and dizzy and put on my dressing gown. If it was Arnold, I knew I must see him. It was very dark everywhere, but of course I knew my way. I felt along for the stair rail and went down as quickly as I could. Knocking had stopped, and I was afraid I was too late. I got through the staircase and over to the door on to the East veranda. I had never thought of anything but that it was Arnold until I reached the door. It was unlocked and opened about an inch. Everything was black. It was perfectly dark outside. I felt very queer and shaky. Then I thought perhaps Arnold had used his key. He did strange things sometimes, and I turned around. Just as I reached foot of the staircase, I thought I heard someone coming. My nerves were going anyhow. They were in the dark, and I could scarcely stand. I got up as far as a third or four step. Then I felt that someone was coming toward me on the staircase. The next instance, I hand back mine on the stair rail. Someone brushed past me, and I screamed. Then I must have fainted. That was Louis' story. There could be no doubt of its truth, and things that made it unexpressibly awful to me was that the poor girl that crept out to answered some of the brother who would never need her kindly offices again. Twice now, without apparent cause, someone had entered the house by means of the East entrance, had apparently gone his way, unhindered through the house, and gone out again as he had entered. It is an unvisited being there a third time. The night Arnold Armstrong was murdered, or first the time Mr. Jameson had locked someone in the closest chute. Sleep was impossible, I think, for any of us. With his boots finally to bathe in dress, leaving Louis little worse for her experience. But I determined that before the day would come she must know the true state of affairs. Another decision I made, and I put it into execution immediately after breakfast. I had one of the unused bedrooms in East Wing, back along the small corridor prepared for occupancy, and from that time on, Alex the gardener slept there. One man in that barn of a house was an absurdity with things happening all the time, and I must say that Alex was the only person who was unobjectionable as anyone could possibly have been. The next morning also, Alcy and I met an exhaustive examination of circular staircase, small entry as its foot, and the card room opening from it. There was no evidence of anything unusual at night before, and heavy not ourselves heard raping noises. I should have felt that Louis' imagination had run away with her. The outer door was closed and locked, and staircase curved above us, for all the world like any other staircase. Halcy, who had never checked in seriously my account of night, pleading I were there alone, was grave enough now. He examined the panelling of the wind scouting above and below the stairs, evidently looking for a secret door, and suddenly there flashed my mind, recollection of a scrap of paper that Mr. Jameson had found along the fax. As nearly as possible, I repeated its contents to him, while Alcy took them down in a notebook. I wish you had told me that before, he said, as he put me around and carefully away. We found nothing at all in the house, and I expected little from an examination of the porch and grounds. But as we opened the outer door, something fell into the entry with the clatter. It was a cue from the billiard room. Alcy picked it up as an exclamation. That's careless enough, he said. Some observants have been amusing themselves. I was far from convinced. Not one observant would go into that wing at night unless driven by dire necessity. And the billiard cue, as a weapon of either a fence or defense, it was an absurdity unless one accepted Lady's hypothesis of a ghost and even then, Alcy pointed out, a billiard playing ghost would be a very modern evolution of an ancient institution. That afternoon we, Gertrude, Alcy and I, attended the corners in quest in town. Dr. Stewart had been summoned also. It transpired that in that early Sunday morning, when Gertrude and I had gone to our rooms, he had been called to view the body. We went, four of us, in the machine, on the zigrable roads to the matinee train, with half of Kazanova staring at us. And on the way we decided to say nothing of Louise and her interview with her step-brother at night he died. The girl was in trouble enough as it was. And of Chapter 16, Chapter 17 at Circular Staircase. This is a LibriBox recording. All LibriBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriBox.org. Recording by NSVC Mount Portugal. The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Reinhardt. Chapter 17, A Hint of Scandal. In giving the gist of what happened at the inquest, I have only one excuse, to recall to the reader the events of the night of Arnold Armstrong's murder. Many things had occurred which were not brought out at the inquest and some things were told there that were new to me. All together it was a gloomy affair and six men in the corner who constituted the corner jury were evidently the nearest puppets in the hands of that all-powerful gentleman in the corner. The truth and I said well back with our veils down. There were a number of people I knew Barbara Fitzhugh in Extravagant Morning. She always went into black on slightest provocation because it was becoming. And Mr. Jarvis, the man who had come over from the Greenwood Club the night of the murder. Mr. Harden was there too looking impatient as the inquest dragged but alive to every particle of evidence. From a corner Mr. Jameson was watching the proceedings intently. Dr. Stewart was called first. His evidence was told briefly and amounted to deeds. On Sunday morning previous at a quarter before five he had been called to the telephone the message was from Mr. Jarvis who asked him to come at once to Sunnyside as there had been an accident there and Mr. Arnold Armstrong had been shot. He had dressed hastily gathered up some instruments and driving to Sunnyside. He was met by Mr. Jarvis who took him at once to the East Wing there just as he had fallen was the body of Arnold Armstrong. There was no need of the instruments the man was dead. In answer to the coroner's question no, the body had not been moved safe to turn it over it lay at foot of the circular staircase yes, he believed death had been instantaneous the body was still somewhat warm and rigor mortis had not set in it occurred late in cases of sudden death no, he believed the probability of suicide might be eliminated the wound could have been self inflicted but with difficulty and there had been no weapon found the doctor's examination was over but he exitated and cleared his throat Mr. Coroner, he said at risk of taking up valuable time I would like to speak of an incident that may or may not throw some might on this matter the audience was alerted once kindly proceed doctor the coroner said my home is in Inglewood two miles from Kazanova the doctor began in the absence of Dr. Walker a number of Kazanova people have been consulting me a month ago five weeks to be exact a woman whom I had never seen came to my office she was in deep mourning and kept her veil down and she brought for examination a child a boy of six the little fellow was ill it looked like typhoid and the mother was frantic she went to the permit staff and I gave her one the incident would have escaped me but for a curious thing two days before Mr. Armstrong was shot I was sent for to go to the country club someone had been struck the golf ball that had gone wild it was late when I left I was on foot and about a mile from the club on the Claesburg road I met two people they were disputing violently and I had no difficulty in recognizing Mr. Armstrong the woman beyond doubt was the one who had consulted me about the child at this end of scandal Ms. Augent Fitchu set up very straight Jameson was looking slightly skeptical and the corner made a note the children's hospital you say doctor yes but the child who was entered as Lucy and Wallace was taken away by his mother two weeks ago I have tried to trace them and failed all at once I remember the telegram sent to Louise by someone signed FLW presumably Dr. Walker could this veiled woman be the Nenek Harrington of the message but it was only idle speculation I had no way of finding out an inquest was proceeding the reported coroner's physician came next the post mortem examination showed that the bullet had entered the chest and forced left into coastal space and I had taken oblique course downward and backward piercing both the heart and lungs the left lung was collapsed and the exit point of the ball had been found in muscles of the back to the left of the spinal column it was improbable that such a wound would have been self-inflicted and its oblique downward course pointed to the fact that shot had been fired from above in other words as murder men had been found dead at foot of a staircase it was probable that shot had been fired by someone higher up on the stairs there were no marks of powder the bullet, a .38 caliber had been found in dead men's clothing and was shown to jury Mr. Jarvis was called next but his testimony amounted to little he had been summoned by telephone to sunny side had come over at once with Stuart and Mr. Winthrop as present out of town they had been emitted by the housekeeper and had found the body lying at foot of staircase he had made a search for a weapon but there was none around the outer entry door in east wing had been unfastened and was open about an inch I had been growing more and more nervous when the coroner called Mr. John Bailey the room was filled with suppressed excitement Mr. Jameson went forward and spoke a few words to the coroner who nodded then Alfie was called Mr. Inns the coroner said he would tell under what circumstances you saw Mr. Arnold Armstrong the night he died I saw him first at country club Alfie said quietly he was rather pale but very composed I stopped here with my automobile for gasoline Mr. Armstrong had been playing cards when I saw him there coming out of the card room talking to Mr. John Bailey the nature of the discussion was it amiable Alfie hesitated they were having a dispute he said I asked Mr. Bailey to leave the club with me and come to sunny side over Sunday isn't it a fact Mr. Inns that you took Mr. Bailey away from the clubhouse because you were afraid there would be blows the situation wasn't pleasant Alfie said evasively at that time had you any suspicion that the treasurer's bank had been wrecked no what occurred next Mr. Bailey and I talked in the billiard room until 2.30 and Mr. Arnold Armstrong came there while we were talking yes he came about half past two he rapped at east door and I admitted him the silence in the room was intense he never left Alfie's face will you tell us the nature of his errand he brought a telegram that had come to the club for Mr. Bailey he was sober perfectly at that time not earlier was not his apparent friendliness a change from his former attitude yes I have not understand it how long did he stay about five minutes then he left by the east entrance what occurred then we talked for a few minutes discussing a plan Mr. Bailey had in mind then I went to the tables where I kept my car and got it out leaving Mr. Bailey alone in the billiard room Alfie hesitated my sister was there Mrs. Autchenfit Yuk had courage to turn and I jerked her to her longhorn and then I took the car along the lower road not to disturb the household Mr. Bailey came down across the lawn through the edge and got into the car on the road then he knew nothing of Mr. Armstrong's movements after he left the house nothing I read of his death Monday evening for the first time Mr. Bailey did not see him on his way across the lawn I think not if he had seen him he would have spoken of it thank you that is all Mr. Trudge inns Mr. Trudge replied were furious, concise as Alice's Mrs. Fit Yuk subjected her to a close inspection commencing with her head and ending with her shoes I flattered myself she found nothing wrong with either her gown or her manner but poor Mr. Trudge's testimony was a reverse of comforting she had been summoned and Armstrong had gone she had waited in billard's room with Mr. Bailey until the automobile had been ready then she had locked the door at foot of the staircase and, taking a lamp had accompanied Mr. Bailey to the main entrance of the house and had watched him cross the lawn instead of going at once to her room she had gone back to the billard's room for something which had been left there the card room and billard's room were in darkness she had cropped around found the article she was looking for and was on the point returning to her room when she had heard someone fumbling at lock at east outer door she had thought it was probably her brother and had been about to go to the door when she heard it open almost immediately there was a shot and she had run panic-strike into the drawing room and had roused the house you heard no other sound the coroner asked there was no one with Mr. Armstrong when he entered it was perfectly dark there were no voices and I heard nothing there was just opening at the door the shot and sound of somebody falling then, while went through the drawing room and upstairs to alarmed household the criminal, whoever he was could have escaped by the east door yes thank you that will do I flattered myself that coroner got completely enough out of me I saw Mr. Jameson smiling to himself and coroner gave me up after a time I admitted I had found body said I had not known who it was until Mr. Jarvis told me and ended by looking up at Barbara Fitzhugh and saying that in renting the house I had not expected to be involved in any family scandal at which she turned purple the verdict was that Arnold Armstrong had met his death at the end of a person or persons unknown and we all prepared to leave Barbara Fitzhugh flustered out without waiting to speak to me but Mr. Arthurn came up as I knew he would he had decided to give up the house I hoped, Miss Inns he said, Mrs. Armstrong has wired me again I'm not going to give it up I maintain until I understand some things that are puzzling me the day that Murray discovered I will leave then judging by what I have heard he will be back in city very soon he said and I knew that he suspected the discredited cashier of the traders bank Mr. Jameson came up to me as I was about to leave the coroner's office how is your patient he asked with his odd little smile I have no patient I replied startled I will put it in a different way then how is Miss Armstrong she she is doing very well I stammered good cheerfully and our ghost is it late Mr. Jameson I said suddenly I wish you do one thing I wish you come to sunny silence when the few days there I want you to spend one night at least watching circular staircase the murder of Arnold Armstrong was the beginning not an end he looked serious perhaps I can do it he said I have been doing something else but well I will come out tonight we were very silent during the trip back to sunny side I watched her treat closely there was one glaring flaw in her story and it seemed to stand out for everyone to see Arnold Armstrong had had no key and yet she said she had locked the east door he must have been admitted from within the house over and over I repeated it myself that night gently as I could I told Louis's story of her step-brother's death she sat in her big pillow filled chair and heard me through without interruption it was clear that she was shocked beyond words if I had hoped to learn anything from her expression I had failed she was as much in the dark as we were end of chapter 17


OK, so again, it's more likely that you're not going to see the W2 income, but the income coming from basically these other sources. Let's bring the income down below a threshold so that now it might be taxed at a lower rate. So let's say the income was only like 20,000 or something. So let's go back on over and let's imagine that the wages income, I'm going to bring that down from here. And let's say they just got some money from a pension plan or something like that. So we're going to say pension income. And I'm going to say this is 1099R that they got. And it's going to be a normal distribution. And let's say that they got like 20, let's say 15,000 here. Taxable amount, 15,000. And then on the social security, let's bump up the social security a bit. Social security benefits, let's say they got 10,000. Social security. OK, let's make it 5,000, 5,000. OK, make up your mind. Make up your mind. OK, that's what I want to do. So now I'm still looking at the form 1040, although the 1040 SR would be like the form typically used over the threshold of 65. So we've got single. We've got the born before January, whatever. And then down here, now we've got our income coming from the pension and annuities and the social security benefits, none of it's being taxable. And you can look at the worksheet right here. It's because they're below the threshold, and you can get an idea of the income thresholds. But that's going to be, and I won't get into the weeds on that, but you can get into the weeds on that to see the calculation on how the worksheet is being put together. So if I was to mirror that on this side, I'd have to say, OK, income, no W2 income. They got a pension income that I said was $15,000, I think. And then they've got the social security of, what did I say, $5,000. But now it's none of it's taxable. They're not taxed at the 85%. So I'm just going to rely on the software to say that zero of that is taxable. And that's putting the zero down there. So that gives me the 15 up top. So the 15 brings it down to the 300 and so on. So I won't go from there. Now let's increase this a little bit. Let's bring it up to like $25,000. Let's say this was at pension 25. $25,000, let's say, movie B to the N. So now a portion of it is being taxed, right? $1,250. So now we're at $1,250 divided by $5,000. It's pulling in 25%, right? Let's pull it up to, let's pull this amount up to like $30,000. $30,000, $30,000. And see what that does. Going back on over now, half of it, right? So it's going to be $25,000 divided by $5,000. What? K, the heck? Paso divided by $5,050. And now let's bring it up to, I think it's like $34,000. $34,000. And so now it's still at 50%. Let's bring it to actually, I didn't do it here, $34,000. $34,000. So now it's getting pretty close. Pretty close, though. To the full amount here, 85%. So now we're at $4,250 divided by $5,085%. So it's a pretty low threshold still, right? And then if I go up this as high as I wanted to, it should stick at that 85% of the income, right? If I brought this up to $100,000, $100,000, we're still sticking there. And so that's the general kind of curve that you want in your mind. So when you explain it to people, you're like, yeah, you probably have to include an income like 85% unless your income is relatively low. So it's $4,250 divided by $5,000. Now, if they were a married couple, a married couple would find man-turning tricks. Then, of course, you might have social security from two people, right? So then I could go back on over and say, now they're married, file and join. And then on the income side, let's say we had the social security benefits 5,000 from one spouse and 5,000 from another spouse. And so now that's going to be pulling in to the box of $10,000, and 85% is being taxed at this point. If they were married, then you could bring the thresholds will be a little bit different to determine how much will be taxable. So if I went back on over and I went to my pension income and I bring this down once again to $30,000, $30,000, and I go back on over and say, OK, now only 1,500 is being taxable, 1,500 divided by 10,015%. The thresholds are a little bit different as you would expect from married, filing joint. If I bring it up to like 40,040,000, then now we're at the 5,850 divided by 10,000. Which is 58%, and then if I bring it up to like, I think it's like 44,000, 44,000, and pull it on over. Pull it on over. Now we're at that 85%, 85%. So it's still a fairly low threshold, but obviously the threshold differs for married, filing joint versus the single threshold. So there's the general idea that you want to have in your mind with regards to the social security. So remember that you also kind of, you probably want to get a general concept of what the social security is doing. You're pulling it in from the W-2 when you pay it. It's social security or payroll taxes different than basically the income taxes. You're paying it in with your payroll taxes or with your self-employment taxes. And the amount that you pay in is going to be causing the amount or contribute to the calculation of how much benefits you're going to get in retirement. And then when you get the benefits in retirement, it possibly could be included in income and generally will be included in income up to like 85% unless your income is taxable income is relatively low. That's kind of the scenario you might want to have.


Good morning Hank, it's Tuesday. This video is about my mental health, but I want to say here at the outset that I am not a psychologist and that in general I think we should listen to experts when it comes to mental health and also when it comes to other things. But I can only speak to my personal experience. Okay, so it seems to me that the stuff happening way down inside of us is difficult to talk about, partly because those experiences aren't really accessible by the senses. You can't usually see or hear psychic pain and it's difficult to describe without simile or metaphor.  I can say what it's like more than I can say what it is. So I have obsessive-compulsive disorder, which is mostly seen in the popular imagination as being about like excessive hand-washing or neatness or whatever. Because those are things you can see, you know? They're not like the formless and sensate horrors of psychic pain. They're behaviors that you can like portray in a movie. But for me at least there's a reason the obsessive comes before the compulsive in the name. So I experienced these obsessive-thought spirals in which intrusive thoughts, that is like thoughts that I don't want to have that seem to come from outside of me, sort of hijack my consciousness. Now everyone has known some version of not being able to choose their thoughts. Like after you lose someone you may find yourself thinking about them all the time. You may see a sunset and think about seeing a sunset with that person. Or you open a car door and remember driving with them, etc. But for me these obsessive-thought spirals happen all the time and they can take over for days or weeks or months. Like I might worry out of nowhere that my food is contaminated or somehow poisoned and then suddenly that will be the only thought I'm able to think. The thought I'm either thinking or distracting myself from all the time. And when that gets bad I can lose all control over my thoughts for an extended period of time to the extent that I can't follow what's happening in a TV show or read a book. This is exhausting of course, but it's also kind of terrifying because one, I can't stop being scared of the thing I'm scared about. And two, if I can't choose my thoughts and I am at least in part made out of those thoughts then am I actually the captain of this ship I call myself? And the more you think about that, at least for me, the more it becomes sort of the premise for a horror movie.  Those are for me ways of trying to comfort and calm myself. Like I'm not checking over and over again to be eccentric or whatever, I'm doing it because I cannot stop obsessing over the fear that I might have eaten living mold and I will do whatever I can not to be strangled by that thought. Mental illness is highly stigmatized in our culture, but it is also sometimes romanticized.  That kind of thing might be true to some people's experiences, but it hasn't been true to mine. Like I don't feel like my mental illness has any superpower side effects. In fact, when I'm stuck inside a thought spiral, I find it very difficult to observe like anything outside of myself. I become a terrible detective. So when I started the book that has become Turtles all the way down, I wanted to like try to find form and expression for this way down nonsensorial experience of living inside of thought spirals. The book is fictional, totally fictional, but it began for me with thinking about what it would be like to be this one particular 16-year-old girl, Asa Holmes, who's trying to be a good daughter and a good friend and a good student and maybe even a good detective. While also living with terrifying thought spirals that she cannot see or hear, but that are nonetheless very real. So like that's a bit of an introduction to the story and how I came to write it. I also want to say to anyone out there concerned about their mental health, please, please seek help. I've put some resources in the doobly-doo below. I know it can be difficult to get effective treatment, but there is hope even if your brain tells you there isn't. The vast majority of mental illness is treatable and lots of people with chronic mental health problems have fulfilling and vibrant lives. Hank, DFTBA. I will see you on Friday.