Somewhere in the House Read Free Page A

don’t you? They said you did.”
    â€œThey frightfully exaggerate, whoever they are.”
    â€œBut I’m so glad you do. You’re quite right, Mr. Gamadge—we must put off the Sacrifice of Sugar till another, happier time. Now I must tell you why I asked you to come. I said that tomorrow will be Garth’s twenty-fifth birthday. That’s the day set in my grandmother’s will for winding up a trust. The estate will be divided up amongst her heirs, and we can sell the house; and on Monday an agent’s coming to view it. So tomorrow we must open a door.”

CHAPTER TWO
The Door
    â€œO PEN A DOOR?” Gamadge looked at her, his cigarette half-way to his mouth. And as she said nothing, he asked: “Do you mean the door of a safe, Mrs. Leeder? I hope my friends didn’t tell you I could do that! I don’t even know an obliging cracksman!”
    â€œIt isn’t a safe; it’s a room.” She added as if reluctantly: “It’s been shut for twenty years.”
    Gamadge, watching her downcast face, offered a short monologue: “I hate them too—attics full of family relics. Some delight in them; to me they represent stuffiness, and they’re full of gadgets you can’t guess the use of. And moulting stuffed birds are grisly; so are creased garments and pressed flowers.”
    â€œI wish it were an attic. It’s just a room that’s been sealed since my grandmother died.”
    â€œBy her orders?”
    â€œNo; we sealed it. Now it must be opened and cleared out, and all the heirs must be here when it’s done—my uncle Gavan, my aunt Cynthia, Seward and Garth, and my former husband Rowe Leeder. He’s one of the heirs. I want you to be here too—at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThat’s what I find so hard to tell you; but I must, and if I do some explaining first it won’t be so difficult for me or seem so queer to you. First I ought to explain that Rowe Leeder comes here quite often. Grandmother never cut him out of her will after that terrible thing that happened to him—that Sillerman scandal; perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
    â€œI remember something.”
    â€œShe only lived for a week or two after it, she died of a stroke; but I think she wouldn’t have cut him out of the will anyway. She was very fond of him. None of us, of course, ever thought for one moment that he had anything to do with the girl’s death, and he was completely exonerated—he had an alibi.” She was playing with a little silver trident for spearing slices of lemon; and Gamadge noticed that she still wore a wedding ring. She went on after a pause: “But his name got out through some bungling, and it was in the headlines. My father and mother made me divorce him. If I’d been older—but I was only twenty-four. I let them persuade me.”
    Her voice died away. Presently she went on: “After they died, he drifted back. As an occasional caller, you know. It seemed to happen quite naturally. I was very glad. And the family—”
    She laid down the silver trident and looked at him. “I hope you won’t be too shocked at my attitude towards them. They’re very cynical; they don’t mind what people do—only the scandal. It had died down by the time Rowe came back, and they accepted him quite coolly. As an heir—we all share equally—he had a certain standing; you’ll understand why when I tell you about the will.
    â€œAnd I can’t tell you about it without telling you first about Grandmother—and Nonie.”
    â€œNonie?”
    â€œShe’s dead. She was Grandmother’s youngest child, and she died ever so long ago, in 1914, just before the other war. There were six children: Uncle Gavan, Aunt Cynthia, Seward’s father, my father, Garth’s grandfather, and Nonie. They’re all dead but Uncle Gavan and