Harp's Manor

INSTALLMENT IX

May 5, 1928

I open up this installment with distressing news. The glove-box is missing!

I don't know when it vanished, nor does anyone else. The only reason we discovered its absence was Miss Pearce's desire to take measurements for the stand, for which the granite has not yet arrived. She spared no time in gathering me and Mr. Forrest to alert us of the situation.

"Perhaps it fell over," Mr. Forrest said, unconcerned. "It may have broken all over the ground, and a servant swept it up."

"Has anyone been up there recently?" I asked. "Maybe they picked it up and are keeping it until they determine whom it belongs to."

"Maybe someone stole it," Miss Pearce said. "I am very upset about this, I'll let you know! I take a lot of pride in my work, and having it just vanish has surely pushed my buttons."

As the week has progressed, doubt has grown in my mind whether we shall ever locate the glove-box. I am inclined to agree with Mr. Forrest that it fell over. The little thing was never very anchored on the banister in the first place, and was rather frail. What an unfortunate end for the delicate little thing! I suggested to Miss Pearce that we make another one, but she is determined to find out where the original went.

Besides that event, this week has been generally tame, and I find myself needing to convey small, uncorrelated events rather than large ones, like last week.

My story begins on Friday, at not yet nine 'o clock. I was writing more of my novel when a short knock rapped at my door. Figuring it to be Mr. Forrest, I walked over and opened it. "Yes?"

Mr. Forrest was not behind the door to greet me. Instead, it was Ivan Lambert, of all people. "Good morning, Miss Thornton. Would you mind tilting that box on your desk- yes, that one in front of the window, with all your writing-supplies inside- would you mind tilting it away from the window?" he asked.

"I- well, of course," I said, seeing the action done. "But what for-"

When I turned around again, he was gone. The sudden and strange question, followed by the prompt disappearance, aroused my curiosity. I know Mr. Lambert to be an odd man, but not a magician. After scouring the hallway and determining him not to be there, I returned back to my room and peered out the window. Just as I did so, a bright flash of light illuminated the courtyard, dazzling my eyes and making me blink profusely.

Unfortunately, I recognized that light, and had only seen it a few weeks before. Realizing what must have happened, I hurried out of my room and down the stairs, burst out into the courtyard, and rushed over to Mr. Lambert. He had set up his camera there, pointing it directly towards the side of the mansion. "Mr. Lambert!" I exclaimed. "I'm so dreadfully sorry-"

"Hello, Miss Thornton," he said, looking up from the photograph in his hands. "You have ruined my picture."

"I know; I only just now realized. I'm so sorry, I didn't understand why you wanted me to move my writing-supplies out of the way at first. Is it as terribly bad as that?"

"Quite," he said, handing the paper over to me. He didn't sound very mad, merely amused.

I inspected the picture. It was difficult to make out the image in the still-developing film, but it was of the manor, specifically focused on my window, as I had suspected. It didn't appear to be marred in any way, until I spotted a faint shape in my window. The little circle had eyes, nose, and mouth, but just barely! "Good lord, I look like a phantom!" I exclaimed.

"It does look that way, doesn't it?" Mr. Lambert agreed. "You may keep it, if you like. It is a rather humorous picture, if I do say so myself."

"So you are not mad at me?"