Natalie Sumner Lincoln

“ Why should any woman bribe old Oscar to steal papers which had belonged to her aunt?
With a sigh of utter weariness, Kitty gave up the problem for the moment and continued her dressing. Twenty minutes later, her toilet completed, she stopped before the cheval glass and gave a final pat to her hair. At last, satisfied with her appearance, she hastened into the hall. As she descended the staircase, she heard the rattle of dishes in the dining room and the sound of the dumb-waiter creaking its way upward. ”

“ Kitty did not reply at once; instead her hand slipped inside her coat pocket and her fingers closed about the small slip of mauve-colored paper tucked underneath her handkerchief, while the message it bore recurred to her: “Leigh, you are watched.”
To what did Mrs. Parsons’ warning allude? To what could it allude? And why did Inspector Mitchell invariably drag Leigh Wallace’s name into their conversation? And what had inspired her aunt’s hatred of Leigh? Could it have been fear? Fear of what—Death? Kitty shuddered, then pulled herself together. She must not let fancies run away with her. ”

“ Poor Susan—the last person in the world whose death would have been of benefit to any one, and yet she was murdered.”
“If we are to believe the medical evidence, yes,” replied Rodgers. “Poison can be administered with murderous intent, but we must also remember that it can be taken with the intent to commit suicide.”
“True.” Craige chose a seat at some distance from the throne-shaped chair. “But I cannot associate either murder or suicide with Susan. I tell you, Rodgers, Susan had an intense desire to live, and I can conceive of no one wishing for her death sufficiently to face the gallows.” ”

“ It seemed an age to Kitty before the three men carried their burden up the long terraced steps and into the house.
“Go up to the bedroom at the head of the stairs,” she directed. “Mandy,” to the colored woman who, aroused by the noise of tramping feet and voices, appeared at the top of the staircase. “Show them into the spare bedroom and help them get the bed ready for Mr. Rodgers. I’ll telephone at once for Dr. McLean.”
Twenty minutes later Kitty stood with clenched hands waiting for the surgeon’s verdict. She had paced the hall until physical exhaustion had called a halt. ”

“ Mrs. Parsons had been following the dialogue with unwavering attention. At her answer Mitchell nodded his head with an air of triumph.
“I’ll amend my statement, Miss Baird,” he said. “You did not carry those peaches home to your aunt, but Major Wallace did—when he called here to see her alone on Sunday afternoon.”
Wallace’s air of indifference dropped from him and he swung to his feet, his hands clenched. “You’re a damned liar!” he shouted.
“Shouting won’t help matters,” Mitchell remarked. “For I have the goods on you.” ”

“ Kitty flushed hotly. “I do not care to have slurs cast upon my aunt,” she said coldly. “She is not here to defend herself.”
“Hold on, Miss Baird,” Mitchell protested. “You must realize that your aunt hoarded this wealth which you inherited; otherwise she would have spoken to you or to some one about it. She—” Mitchell came to a full pause, then added impressively: “Your aunt was a miser.”
Kitty’s color deepened, but the denial which loyalty prompted remained unspoken. Her sense of justice told her that Inspector Mitchell had spoken truly. ”

“ Parsons acknowledged to herself if to no one else—she was chary of spoken praise. Kitty had not only an accurate knowledge of social life in Washington, having enjoyed belleship since her first “tea dance” at Rauscher’s which one of her aunt’s old friends had given in her honor, but possessed unbounded tact and a kindly heart. Her aunt, Miss Susan Baird, had seen to it that she was well educated and thoroughly grounded in French and German. Having a natural gift for languages, Kitty had put her early training to good account in her war work as a translator and code expert. ”

“ Parsons watched Kitty standing by the curb, apparently in doubt as to whether to cross the street or not.
Kitty, in fact, was debating where she should lunch. Time hung heavy on her hands, and the thought of the great empty house in Georgetown sent a shiver down her spine. Neither Mandy nor Oscar were enlivening company at the best of times, and since her aunt’s death—Kitty shivered again. ”

“ Kitty did not care to break the pause that followed. She was content to remain silent and await developments. Mitchell did not leave her long in doubt as to the direction his thoughts were tending.
“Mr. Craige tells me that you have inherited a pretty fortune,” he began. “A very pretty fortune, to be exact. Now, your aunt, if you’ll excuse my directness, lived in, eh,” he hesitated, “say, genteel poverty.” Kitty nodded somberly. Would people never stop harping on her suddenly acquired wealth? “Where did your aunt get this money she left to you?” ”

“ You will catch cold up in this icy place, Kitty.” Observing that she was shivering, Craige closed the trunk with a resounding bang, drew out the key, and preceded them out of the attic.
Back in the library again, Kitty walked over to a Japanese screen, which cut off one corner of the room, and pushing it aside, disclosed a low oak case on which rested a glass box. Inside the box lay the cast of a Gila monster. The poisonous lizard looked so alive that Rodgers was startled for a moment. Bending closer, he viewed its wedge-shaped head and black and yellow mottled body with deep interest. ”

“ For a woman of her age she was remarkably free from organic trouble,” replied McLean. “In fact, she did not come to consult me about herself at all, but to ask for a tonic for her niece. By the way, where is Miss Kitty Baird?”
At the question Wallace raised his head and eyed the surgeon intently for a second, then dropped his eyes as the other felt his gaze and turned toward him. ”

“ Mitchell was taking mental note of Kitty’s well-groomed appearance and her nervous handling of her handkerchief.
“I told her not to sit up late.” Kitty did not meet the inspector’s eyes. “Aunt Susan seldom went to bed before one or two o’clock in the morning; she claimed it rested her to sit up and read in the library.”
“Were the servants here when you left the house?” asked Mitchell.
“Servants?” A ghost of a smile touched Kitty’s lips. “Aunty would not employ any one but old Oscar. He never comes until about seven in the morning, and leaves immediately after dinner.” ”

“ It was a housebreaker—a common, ordinary housebreaker.”
“It may have been a housebreaker,” agreed Rodgers, soothingly. “But it was one with the knowledge that the flavor of a peach would disguise the taste of prussic acid.”
“Kitty,” Craige spoke with deep seriousness. “You must realize that this murder of your aunt was a deliberately planned crime. Burglars don’t go around carrying bottles of prussic acid in their pockets. Also, there is one point of especial significance—but one side of the knife-blade had poison on it.” ”

“ Parsons found Charles Craige at her elbow.
“You offer a penny too much,” laughed Mrs. Parsons. “They were idle thoughts—”
“About the idle rich.” Craig looked at her with [Pg 36] admiration. “Upon my word, Cecilia, you grow prettier every day.”
“Happiness is a great ‘beautifier,’” Mrs. Parsons glanced up at him with a strange, new shyness; then quickly veiled her eyes that he might not read her thoughts too plainly. Under pretense of arranging the bouquet, his gift, which she was carrying, Craige pressed her hand. ”

“ The box appeared to be filled with papers of all sizes, but Nina lost no time in examining them. On top lay a package of letters bearing her name in a familiar handwriting. Snatching them up, Nina replaced the box. With the aid of pins she tacked the valance back in place as best she could, straightened the bedclothes, and then stole from the room, her precious package clasped tightly in her hand. As she passed down the staircase, she was totally unaware that she was watched, nor did she catch the faint sound made by the opening and closing of “Miss Susan’s” bedroom door. ”

“ For a man of his height and breadth of shoulder, he seemed to have shrunken, for his clothes appeared to hang upon him. Dwelling on his ill-health would not tend to lessen Wallace’s nervous condition, and Mrs. Parsons omitted personalities. “Were you at the Baird inquest?” she inquired.
“Yes, that is, I got there late—” stumbling somewhat in his speech. “Why don’t you go and see Kitty, Cecelia? That house of hers is sort of ghastly—”
“For any one who suffers from nerves,” she put in, and he flushed at the irony of her tone, “Kitty has plenty of courage. ”

“ He was wrong, Wallace had been in the house after the discovery of the murder, for he had accompanied Dr. Leonard McLean to the house on Monday morning. Could the young officer have slipped unseen into the parlor and concealed the bottle of poison while he, Mitchell, and Coroner Penfield were superintending the removal of Miss Baird’s body from the library to her bedroom?
Bah! the idea was absurd. A man would not return to the scene of a murder with incriminating evidence in his pocket when he had had hours in which to throw away the poison without arousing suspicion. ”

“ She appeared unconscious of his steady gaze, her attention apparently centered on the flickering fire, and her hands, clasped together, rested idly in her lap. Mitchell’s profession had made him a close student of human nature and as he studied her face, partly turned from him, he concluded that Kitty did not lack strength of character and will power, whatever her faults might be. ”

“ A murmur of voices reached Rodgers, then a firm tread sounded down the uncarpeted hall, and parting the portières Charles Craige walked into the library.
“Hello, Rodgers,” he exclaimed in hearty greeting. “Mandy told me that you were here. Have you seen Kitty?”
“Not yet.” Rodgers shook Craige’s hand with [Pg 100] vigor. He had grown to like and admire the brilliant lawyer whose many acts of kindness had added to the enjoyment of his visit. Besides, and Rodgers’ eyes glowed, was he not Kitty’s godfather!
“Trust Kitty to keep a man waiting,” and Craige smiled as he spoke, then grew grave. ”

“ Mrs. Parsons paused in indecision; then with an air of perfect candor addressed the impatient inspector.
“Of course you will respect my confidence,” she began. Mitchell nodded. “There is a certain man in Washington who has gained a welcome in the most exclusive homes,” she paused. “I believe him to be an adventurer.”
“Come, Mrs. Parsons, that is not being very explicit,” remonstrated Mitchell. “To whom are you alluding?”
“A man calling himself Edward Rodgers.” ”

“ Rodgers hesitated a moment. “Forgive the question—but—are you and he great friends?”
Kitty regarded him gravely. “Not great friends; we sometimes have spats,” she admitted. A mischievous smile brought out her pretty dimples. “Our last dispute was on the subject of deportment and dress. I do not see how Nina stands his Puritanical ideas.”
“Doesn’t he approve of gay colors?”
“Gay colors!” Kitty laughed outright. “I should say not. Why, he nearly had a fit whenever I appeared in my red coat.”
“He is a man of queer ideas,” Rodgers commented dryly. “The red coat was most becoming to you. ”

“ Wallace flushed to the roots of his sandy hair. “Kitty never had very much use for me,” he admitted, rather bitterly. “She—she—seems to be tired—”
“Of being a cat’s paw?”
“Mrs. Parsons!” Wallace was on his feet, his eyes snapping with anger.
“Don’t go,” Mrs. Parsons’ smile was ingratiating. “Forgive me if I blunder, Leigh. Sometimes an outsider sees most of the game. Will you take a friendly piece of advice—”
“Surely,” but Wallace was slow in reseating himself.
“Then avoid Ben Potter.” Mrs. Parsons picked up her neglected embroidery, and did not trouble to glance at her guest. ”

“ Nina Potter, her feet dragging as she stumbled nearer, half fell into an armchair and Craige took the vacant one by Kitty’s side.
“Draw up,” Mitchell directed. “I will lay my cards on the table—and then, Mr. Potter,” as the naturalist started to speak, “we’ll hear what you have to say. Until then, keep quiet.”
Mitchell spoke in a tone which commanded respect and Potter sullenly obeyed him. The silence remained unbroken for a tense moment, then the portières were drawn aside and Welsh, the plain clothes detective, stuck his head inside the library. ”

“ Parsons’ delicate beauty enhanced by a perfectly fitting modish gown, and Charles Craige, standing tall and straight beside her, his iron-grey hair and ruddy complexion adding distinction to his appearance.
“The world and his wife are here this afternoon, Cecilia,” he said. “Your tea is an unqualified success. And every one is lingering,” glancing down the room. “That is a sure sign that they are enjoying themselves.”
“Except Major Wallace.” Mrs. Parsons drew [Pg 37] his attention to a man worming his way between the groups of people. ”

“ Craige followed Rodgers through the outer office, pausing only long enough to be assisted into his overcoat by an attentive office boy, and joined him at the elevator. “Don’t let Potter worry you, Rodgers; give him time to cool off. I imagine the news that Susan Baird was a wealthy woman, and that she never left him a red cent is responsible for his irritability. You know Ben is rather inclined to love money.” ”

“ Rodgers rose to his feet and his eyes sought the bench where he had found the trap-door. “Come here, Miss Baird,” and he beckoned them to approach. “I opened that by accident just before Mr. Craige arrived—see.”
Kitty slipped her hand inside the cavity and drew out the key.
“I remember the trap-door,” she said. “If you press on a spring concealed in one of the boards, the door drops inward. But what does this tag mean?” and they read the words aloud:
This key unlocks the inside drawer of the highboy in the blue room on the fourth floor. ”

“ A startled look flitted across Ted Rodgers’ face, to be gone the next instant. He had followed the testimony of each witness with undivided attention, answering only in monosyllables the muttered remarks made to him occasionally by Ben Potter, whose expression of boredom had given place to more lively interest at sight of Oscar on his way to the witness chair.
“Who am Miss Kitty?” asked Oscar in scandalized surprise. “Why, Miss Baird’s niece. They live together, leastwise they did ’till yesterday. ”

“ Kitty retreated, aghast. “Marry me? You!”
“Yes,” coolly. “I am only fifty-four; there is not such a difference in our ages. I saw your aunt on Sunday about six o’clock. She laughed at me and refused to consent to our marriage.” Beads of perspiration had again gathered on his forehead, but he went steadily on with his story, oblivious apparently of the abhorrence with which his companions were regarding him. “I had forged Miss Susan Baird’s name in my desperation last week. I knew that if [Pg 290] Kitty and I were married quickly, she would keep quiet about the forgery for her family’s sake. ”

“ Rodgers’ gaze had strayed to the floor. Stooping down he rubbed his hand over the bare hardwood boards. “Your flooring is well worn right here,” he said. “Some weight or some one has stood here constantly. Bend closer and you will see that the varnish is completely worn away.”
Kitty followed his suggestion. “I don’t understand,” she exclaimed, standing erect. “It bewilders me. What does it mean?”
“Some one has been using this panel—for what purpose we have yet to find out.” Rodgers spoke half to himself, then asked more loudly: “Have you given all your aunt’s papers to Mr. Craige?” ”

“ Rodgers actually stammered in his rage. “Didn’t you hear him? Why, he had the audacity to infer that because old Oscar overheard a wordy row between Kitty and her aunt, that Kitty killed the old lady and so inherited her fortune—to marry—” he choked. “Why, damn it! There are a dozen men who would marry Kitty if she hadn’t a cent in the world—I’m—” his face paled, “I’m one of them.”
Craige looked at him with admiring approval. “I like your loyalty,” he exclaimed. “As for Potter—” he struck his desk with his clenched fist. “Potter has grown insufferable. ”

“ Parsons is out, Leigh; I’ve just been there.”
“Oh, ah!” Wallace twirled his swagger stick with such energy that it almost slipped from his grasp. “In that case, Kitty, lunch with me at the Shoreham? Don’t say you won’t,” as she shook her head. “I must talk to you—by yourself. Don’t refuse, Kitty, don’t.”
Kitty looked at him steadily. “We can talk as we walk along,” she said quietly. “Come.” And her decided tone left Wallace nothing to do but match his footstep to hers as she sauntered along. ”

“ Craige smiled indulgently. “Get as much pleasure as you can,” he advised. “You deserve the good things of life, Kitty. Now, put your aunt’s tragic death out of your mind—for to-night, at least,” observing her sober expression. “I will see you to-morrow and we will make a further search among your aunt’s belongings for the papers wanted so mysteriously. Rodgers, take good care of her,” and he waved his hand in farewell as Kitty started the car down the driveway. ”

“ Kitty waited to hear no more. Turning abruptly, she stumbled toward her own room—she could not face any one just then. She had reached the end of endurance.
“Miss Baird,” Mitchell’s stern voice caused her to falter just outside her bedroom door. “Who shot Edward Rodgers?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered. “We were coming home through Rock Creek Park and a car dashed by us. I was blinded by its headlights. I heard a report—” she caught her breath sharply. “I turned and found Mr. Rodgers sitting unconscious—wounded as you found him. ”

“ A startled look crept into Craige’s ever shifting eyes. “Why, I found the cat playing with the syringe when I first entered this room. I knew that I had dropped it on Sunday, probably when I reëntered the library after Susan Baird screamed.” A shudder shook him, in spite of his iron self-control. “Seeing it here this afternoon, I supposed it had rolled in some corner, and been overlooked. I judged that the cat had selected it as a plaything.”
“It’s a wonder the cat didn’t poison herself,” commented Mitchell. ”

“ Craige commented dryly. “And Mandy lied to you.”
“What could have been her object?” asked Kitty. “She must realize that we can trace Oscar’s whereabouts.”
“That is already being done by the police,” Rodgers put in quickly. “I called up Inspector Mitchell from your house, Kitty, while you were upstairs getting your wraps, and told him that Oscar had disappeared. He promised to try and locate the old man at once.”
“Good!” Craige’s tone spoke his satisfaction. “Now, as to the woman, did her voice give you no clue to her identity, Kitty?” ”

“ McLean pulled himself up short. Who were Kitty Baird’s intimate friends—her girl friends? He could enumerate dozens of men whose admiration for her was sincere and unconcealed, but when it came to the girls in their set—pshaw! women were cats! Kitty’s popularity had not endeared her to her own sex.
“You might try Mrs. Amos Parsons,” he suggested, and pointed to the telephone table in a corner of the library. “Kitty is her private secretary. No, wait,” as Mitchell snatched up the telephone book and hastily turned its well-thumbed pages. “She may be with her cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Potter. ”