Summary

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — V. Little Miss Jane (1910)

And as if to prove it conclusively, Margery picked up Miss Jane's new lace cap from the floor. It was crumpled and spotted with blood.
"She has been killed," Margery said, in a choking voice. "Killed, and she had not an enemy in the world!"
"But where is she?" I asked stupidly.
Margery had more presence of mind than I had; I suppose it is because woman's courage is mental and man's physical, that in times of great strain women always make the better showing.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — V. Little Miss Jane (1910)

Thus exposed, the wall showed an opening about a foot square, and perhaps eighteen inches deep. A metal door, opening in, was unfastened and ajar, and just inside was a copy of a recent sentimental novel and a bottle of some sort of complexion cream. In spite of myself, I smiled; it was so typical of the dear old lady, with the heart of a girl and a skin that was losing its roses. But there was something else in the receptacle, something that made Margery Fleming draw in her breath sharply, and made Hunter raise his eyebrows a little and glance at me.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Mary Roberts Rinehart Mary Roberts Rinehart The Window at the White Cat — V. Little Miss Jane (1910)

It takes a short time to search an acre of lawn and shrubbery. There was no trace of the missing woman anywhere outside the house, and from Bella, as she sat at the foot of the front stairs with her apron over her head, I learned in a monosyllable that nothing had been found in the house. Margery was with Miss Letitia, and from the excited conversation I knew she was telling her—not harrowing details, but that Miss Jane had disappeared during the night.
Source: Wikisource

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature