Augusta Huiell Seaman

“ What in the world does he care about it, anyway?”
“Don’t ask me!” exclaimed Connie. “I’m going to find out yet, though. But I haven’t told you all. This explanation seemed to satisfy Cookson and he ended by saying: ‘You’d better not worry Mr. Benham by speaking of it, though. You know he is easily upset at present, especially since he’s not been well. And his heart—’ But Tomkins interrupted right there to say Mr. Benham knew all about it. And at that, old Cookson gave a snort and muttered something that sounded like ‘abominably unfortunate!’ and walked off!”
“Cookson’s mixed up in this thing!” ”

“ I cried. “I’m sure there isn’t a room in this house we haven’t explored over and over again!”
“Not this one,” persisted Connie. “The door has always been shut—not locked, but just closed. I remember once when I was quite little (you didn’t happen to be around at the time) I opened the door one day and was going to play in here when Uncle Benham came along and told me not to, that he preferred not to have the door opened at all—that I could play anywhere I chose except in this one room. I was too little to think anything about it at the time, and soon forgot all about the affair. ”

“ Uncle told me afterward that he put you in here because it was the most comfortable room in the house and he wanted you to have the very best. He didn't say anything else about it. How curious this is!”
“It’s more than curious—it has something to do with that—that other affair,” Connie went on mysteriously. She is very clever at guessing riddles and solving puzzles and is never happier than when she has something of the kind to mull over.
“That’s impossible!” I cried. “Where can you find the slightest connection between the two things?” ”