Natalie Sumner Lincoln

“ A loud wail from Mouchette caused her to start convulsively, and the Angora cat, switching her injured tail, back and forth, sprang on Kitty’s vacant chair and from there to the tea table.
“That cat is always under my feet, horrid beast!” Mrs. Parsons, conscious of appearing ridiculous, for Wallace had not restrained a chuckle, spoke with irritation.
“Let me help you,” and Craige, who with the other men had risen on the widow’s entrance, assisted her in removing her wrap. ”

“ Parsons’ slight start was lost on all but Craige.
“Drop the melodrama, Ben,” he said. “We prefer to listen to Inspector Mitchell and not to you. Go on, Inspector.”
But the Inspector was doomed to another interruption, for as he hitched his chair closer to Nina Potter, the sound of footsteps in the gallery circling the library drew all eyes upward. With the aid of his nurse, Ted Rodgers was making his way down the gallery steps with faltering speed.
“Don’t any one rise,” he begged, as they started to their feet. Kitty was the first to reach his side. ”

“ Potter. My cousin knew where I kept my revolver; it was no secret. He could easily have slipped upstairs during the confusion of getting Mr. Rodgers to bed and sending for a nurse and doctor, secured my revolver and, unknown to you, dropped it in Mr. Rodgers’ car—for the purpose of incriminating me.”
“And Mr. Potter’s object in doing that?” questioned Mitchell, as she came to a breathless pause.
“Ask him—” and Kitty pointed to her cousin, who had half risen, then dropped back in his chair. Mitchell stared at them both for a second, then faced the throne-shaped chair. ”

“ Potter avoided her gaze and addressed Craige. “I’m tired of mysteries,” he declared. “First, Cousin Susan is murdered, brutally murdered, poor old lady; then my friend, Ted Rodgers, is shot while driving in his own car with Kitty—and Kitty’s revolver, with one chamber discharged, is found in the car. Damn it!” His teeth clenched together. “It’s time the police took action.”
“We will, never worry—” Inspector Mitchell, who had been an interested spectator of the scene from the doorway, stepped inside the library, his face set and stern. ”

“ Murray, who saw you enter this house on Sunday afternoon with a paper package under your arm, and when you left you carried no package and were so agitated that you weren’t even conscious of bumping into Mrs. Murray as you hurried down the street toward Washington. ”