Murder Runs in the Family

Lance McCrea set his door open an inch and listened. She was always the
first of the lodgers to come home in the afternoon. At this hour there
was nobody in the house except the servants at work in the basement, and
Professor Sempill, buried in his study in the extension.

When Lance heard her firm light step on the first flight of stairs, a
curious breathlessness took possession of him. He had known the girl only
a week, but she had done things to him. Most inconvenient to fall in love
when you were out of a job. He knew her name--Freda Rollin--and that was
all.

He timed his exit from the room so that they came face to face at the top
of the stairs. Both started with surprise. Freda's start was genuine;
Lance's made to order. The girl's face lighted up at the sight of him,
but instantly became grave again. Lance's eyes dwelt on her with a kind
of hungry pleasure. Without appearing to, he blocked the way to her room.

"You're earlier than usual," he said, just to be saying something.

"No," she answered. "Just the same as usual."

"Is your work far from here?" he asked.

"Not very."

His face fell. He was always trying to lead her into telling him
something about herself, but she always evaded it.

He tried again. "You're lucky to have a job in times like these."

She sighed. "I suppose so."

"Don't you consider yourself lucky?" he asked, in surprise.

"Oh yes," she answered, listlessly. "But you get a kind of yen for
freedom. You can't help longing to see the world."

"I know," said Lance, quickly. "What a good time we could have in the
world if we had a little money!"

She looked away without answering. Lance's eyes ate her up. She used
neither lip-stick nor rouge, and her brown hair was drawn straight back
and twisted in a bun at the nape of her neck. She seemed determined to
make herself look as plain as possible, but it only had the effect of
emphasizing her clear beautiful features and her steady eyes, Lance
thought. It was the blue eyes that had plunged him in a maze. They were
full of sadness. This girl could both think and feel. The silence lasted
so long that she became uneasy.

"Were you going out?" she asked.

"No, just looking for ink," he said. "So that I could answer a couple of
dozen more ads."

"I have some ink," she said. "No need to go all the way downstairs."

"No hurry," said Lance, blocking her way. However, she quietly pushed
past him and went into her room, leaving the door open. She occupied the
top floor rear in Mrs. Peale's lodging-house, and Lance had the hall room
adjoining. He looked wistfully through the door of her room. It was just
an ordinary lodging-house room, but the little things of her own that she
had spread around lent it a wonderful grace in his eyes. He was trying to
spy out whether there were any photographs of young men displayed.