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Updated: May 23, 2025
He felt her grasp his arm suddenly, as though in fear, but he shook off her hand and debonairly descended to the group below. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said suavely. "Welcome to Baldpate! Please don't attempt to explain we're fed up on explanations now. You have the fifth key, of course. Welcome to our small but growing circle." The big man advanced threateningly. Mr.
"An old man's weakness," he remarked. "Foolish, they may seem to you. But I assure you I found them useful companions in climbing Baldpate Mountain at this hour." He sat down in the largest chair suite seven owned, and from its depths smiled benignly at the two young men. "But I am not here to apologize for my apparel, am I? Hardly.
You see, I never met him in private life he was just the hermit when I knew him. I used to come to Baldpate in the summers, and send his cards back to the folks at home, and dream dreams of his love-story when from my window I saw the light of his shack at night. I'm so glad to meet Mr. Peters informally."
"The haberdasher," he explained, "sleeps below, and he's a nervous man. He might commit the awful error of shooting the only cook on Baldpate Mountain." Mr. Magee went out into the hall and called from the depths the figure of Bland, fully attired in his flashy garments, and looking tawdry and tired in the morning light. "I've been up hours," he remarked.
Shivering with cold and excitement, Mr. Magee leaned against the side of Baldpate Inn and waited. Mr. Max worked eagerly, turning frequently to his bag as a physician might turn to his medicine-case. No word was spoken in the office. Minutes passed. The bulk at the foot of the stairs surged restlessly. Mr.
Silenced, Mr. Magee followed the lantern of Quimby over the snow to the broad steps, and up to the great front door. There Magee produced from beneath his coat an impressive key. Mr. Quimby made as though to assist, but was waved aside. "This is a ceremony," Mr. Magee told him, "some day Sunday newspaper stories will be written about it. Baldpate Inn opening its doors to the great American novel!"
Magee sat and pondered; the interval since luncheon had passed lazily; he was no nearer to guessing which of Baldpate Inn's winter guests hugged close the precious package. Exasperated, angry, he waited for he knew not what, restless all the while to act, but having not the glimmer of an inspiration as to what his course ought to be.
You're welcome to do the same, if you like. But you stay with me. I know you are a man of courage but it would take at least ten men of courage to put me out of Baldpate Inn." They stood eying each other for a moment. Bland's thin lips twisted into a sneer. "We'll see," he said. "We'll settle all that in the morning."
In ten minutes that package will be in your hands along with my fate, my lady." "I shall be so relieved." She turned her face away, there was a faint flush in the cheek toward Mr. Magee. "And happy," she whispered under her breath. They were then at the great front door of Baldpate Inn.
A charming maid comes in too late for breakfast but in plenty of time for walks on the balcony in the moonlight. The mayor of a municipality condescends to stay for dinner. A battle in the snow ensues. There is a weird talk of a sum of money. More guests arrive. Dark hints of a seventh key. Why, bless you, you needn't stir from Baldpate Inn in search of your romance."
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