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The Missing Bridegroom
79

It was almost a quarter of an hour later that Madelyn rejoined me. She nodded briefly to the butler, who was sitting on the edge of a chair as stiffly erect as a ramrod. But she did not pause. Hardly deigning a glance at me, she stepped over to the long shelves of books, built higher than her arms could reach, and her hand zigzagged along the rich leather bindings and gilt letters. Selecting a massive morocco volume from one of the central rows, she dropped into the nearest seat. The book was an encyclopedia, extending from the letter "H" to the letter "N."

As she spread it open in her lap, apparently for the first time she recalled the butler. She glanced up.

"You will excuse me?"

"Yes, madam!"

"I will be through in a moment!"

"Yes, madam!"

Jenkins' face resumed its stolidness, and Madelyn's gaze dropped to her book. She could not have read a dozen lines, however, when she closed it and sprang to her feet. She paced across the library, her hands behind her back.

"I have only one question to ask, Jenkins."

"Yes, madam!"

"I wish to know whether Mr. Endicott ordered a tray of ashes brought up to his room last night?"

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