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Updated: September 11, 2025
When one has heard stories like that all one's life nothing seems very strange." "Nothing really IS strange," said Hector MacNairn. "Again and again through all the ages we have been told the secrets of the gods and the wonders of the Law, and we have revered and echoed but never believed. When we believe and know all is simple we shall not be afraid. You are not afraid, Ysobel.
I touched the manuscript with my hand questioningly. "Did this fall at the back there by accident," I asked, "or did you hide it?" "I did," he answered. "It was no tale for a young thing to read. I have hidden many from you. You were always poking about in corners, Ysobel." Then I sat and thought over past memories for a while and the shadows in the room deepened.
I want you you and Barbara to tell me what you know that happened here in Santa Ysobel on the dates of the missing pages, May 31 and June 1, 1916." Barbara accepted the task, turning that wonderful cinematograph memory back, and murmured,
Until he finds how they can be moved through an inch of planking he'll not leave Santa Ysobel." She'd put it in a nutshell. And I couldn't let him beat me to it. I'd got to get the jump on him.
"I did my best to deliver it," she steadied her voice as she spoke. "He wasn't at the Palace. He wasn't at Santa Ysobel. He didn't communicate with me here." My edifice of suspicion of Barbara Wallace crumbled.
We skirted these, and the links itself where there were two or three players, obstinate, defiant old men who would have their game in spite of forty blossom festivals climbed a fence, and crossed the grass up to the crest of a little round hill, halting there for the view. It wasn't high, but standing free as it did, it commanded pretty nearly the entire Santa Ysobel district.
When I went up-stairs after tea, Jean was in my room laying things out on the bed. "The man you like so much is to dine here to-night, Ysobel," she said. "Mr. Hector MacNairn." I believe I even put my hand suddenly to my heart as I stood and looked at her, I was so startled and so glad. "You must tell him how much you love his books," she said. She had a quiet, motherly way.
"No, no Skeet," Barbara laughed embarrassedly. "Mr. Cummings was just joking. He'll not be here Saturday night." "I'll come back for it," hand in pocket. "It's a masquerade " Barbara hesitated. "Bring my costume with me from San Francisco." "I'm not sure " again Barbara hesitated; Skeet cut in on her, "Why, Barbie Wallace! It's what you came to Santa Ysobel for the Bloss. Fes. ball.
I'm going to Santa Ysobel to find the murderer of Thomas Gilbert. That means a stirring to the depths of that little town. This underneath-the-surface combustion will get poked into a flame she's going to burst out, and somebody's going to get burned. We don't want that to be Worth, Barbara." "No. But what can I do what influence have I with him " she was beginning, but I broke in on her.
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