One<br > In the pale glow of her ileadlights Emily Brace caught a view of<br > the sign， ALPINE VILLAGE. It was a very discreet sign but its<br > wooden frame had a carefully rustic air.<br > The shades of night were falling fast， when through an Alpine<br > village passed--the rhyming lines repeated themselves in Emmy s<br > head as she approached the turn into what was euphemistically<br > called Alpine Village. She bore， however， no strange device， only<br > a strange demand.<br > The road wound around in an artistic， very， very rural way，<br > designed， she surmised， by the architect who had designed all the<br > houses. She had never seen the Judge s house; she had never visited<br > the condominiums.<br > It had been a demanding message that brought her here now.<br > He had telephoned her， getting straight through the switch-<br >board， naturally， reaching the cubbyhole they called her office，<br >although she shared it with anybody who needed space. The Judge<br >was not one to wait while a message was taken or other， far more<br >important calls were suitably answered. Probably he had thun-<br >dered into the ear of the girl at the switchboard， nearly breaking<br >her eardrum with his usual courtroom voice. But then when Emmy<br >herself replied， he ordered her to get out to his house at once. No<br >reason given， although she did have the temerity to ask why. He<br >3<br ><br >