The Thing Beyond Reason
ADVENTURE THAT LED LEXY MORAN TO A HOUSE
OF TRAGEDY AND MYSTERY IN THE
SUBURBS OF NEW YORK
The house was very quiet to-night. There was nothing to disturb MissAlexandra Moran but the placid ticking of the clock and the faint stirof the curtains at the open window. For that matter, a considerableamount of noise would not have troubled her just then. As she sat atthe library table, the light of the shaded lamp shone upon her bright,ruffled head bent over her work in fiercest concentration. She waschewing the end of a badly damaged lead pencil, and she was scowling.
“No!” she said, half aloud. “Won’t do! It can’t be ‘fix’; but, byjiminy, I’ll get it if it takes all night!”
She laid down the pencil and sat back in the chair, with her armsfolded. Though her present difficulty concerned nothing more seriousthan a crossword puzzle, an observer might have learned a good deal ofMiss Moran’s character from her manner of dealing with it. The puzzleitself, with its neat, clear little letters printed in the squares,would have been a revelation that whatever she undertook she didcarefully and intelligently—and obstinately.
She was a young little thing, only twenty-three, and quite alone inthe world, but not at all dismayed by that. Her father had died somethree years ago, and, instead of leaving the snug little fortune shehad been taught to expect, he had left nothing at all; so that attwenty she had had her first puzzle to solve—how to keep alive withouteating the bread of charity.
It was no easy matter for a girl who was still in boarding school, butshe had done it. She had come to New York and had found a post asnursery governess, and later as waitress in a tea room, and then inthe art department of an enormous store. She had gained no tangibleprofit from these three years, she had no balance in the bank, butthat did not trouble her. She had learned that she could stand on herown feet, that she could trust herself; and with this knowledge andthe experience she had had, and her quick wits and splendid health,she felt herself fully armed against the world. Indeed, she had not acare on earth this evening except the crossword puzzle.
“It must be ‘tocsin,’” she said to herself. “There’s something wrongwith the verticals. It can’t be ‘fix,’ and yet—”
The telephone bell rang. Still pondering her problem, Lexy went acrossthe room.
“Is Miss Enderby there?” asked a man’s voice.
“She’s out,” answered Lexy cheerfully.
“No!” said the man’s voice. “She can’t—I—for God’s sake, where’s MissEnderby?”
“She’s out,” Lexy repeated, startled. “She went to the opera with hermother and father.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Mrs. Enderby’s secretary.”
“Look here! Didn’t Miss Enderby say anything? Isn’t there any sort ofmessage for me?”
“Nothing that I know of. The servants have gone to bed, but I’ll askthem, if it’s anything important.”
“No!” said the voice. “Don’t! No, never mind! Good-by!”
“That’s queer!” said Lexy to herself, as she walked away from theinstrument, and then she dismissed the matter from her mind. “None ofmy business!” she thought, and returned to her puzzle.
Suddenly an inspiration came.
“It is ‘fix’!” she cried. “And it’s not ‘tocsin,’ but ‘toxins’!Hurrah!”
This practically completed the puzzle, and she began to fill in theempty squares with the peculiar satisfaction of the crosswordenthusiast. It was perfect, now, and she lik