rose to a scream— 'is getting cold!'
Ethel never could bear an interruption in her schedule, or any surprises. She went to the table and sat down with a plop and plunged her fork blindly into the congealing mass of the spaghetti. Theo Marsh drifted after her. He leaned on the wall and watched—his head cocked.
But to Mr. Gibson, in the chair, in the living room, his senses were returning. His eyes were clearing. He had assimilated the news, the wonderful surprise. He was saved. He was free. He loved and was loved and nobody was going to die of the poison, and prayers are really answered for all a human being dares to know, and he looked about with relish to receive the sense of home— his dear—his earthly home.
And his breath stopped.
'Rosemary! he cried. 'What is that? On the mantel?'
'What, darling?' Rosemary, who had risen, restless with joy, moved, drunken with relief. 'This?' She took a ball of mustard-colored string up in her hand. 'There's money here,' she said wonderingly, 'where the blue vase used to stand.'
So Mr. Gibson, his wits working as fast as ever they had in his life, quickened with terror, plunged like a quarterback between Paul and Jeanie past the body of
Thee Marsh to seize the loaded fork from the hand of his sister, Ethel.
'Mrs. Violette was here!' he shouted.
'Really, Ken, I couldn't say,' said Ethel huffily. 'But you left every door in this house unlocked and we could have been robbed . . .' She was livid with anger.
'Olive oil!' he shouted. 'A bottle of olive oil! Where is it?'
'In the sauce,' said Ethel. 'I presumed you meant it for the sauce.' Her brows were at the top of their possible ascent. 'Have you gone mad?' she inquired frigidly.
At this moment the nurse and the bus driver came on loud quick feet. 'What's this!' Virginia said. She had a glass of brandy in one hand and a small empty glass bottle in the other, which bottle she shook at them.
'And this! Hey!' puffed Lee Coffey, showing them the green paper bag.
'It's here' said Mr. Gibson. 'Don't touch it, Ethel! It is a deadly poison!'
'Poison?' she said recoiling.
Mr. Gibson scraped spaghetti off all three plates into the bowl and then he took up the bowl in a grim clutch. 'It must have been Mrs. Violette who spoke to me,' he told them. 'She did have to go to the bank. I remember she said so. She took the bus, down and back. She spoke the second time when she saw me leave it in the seat. She knew it was mine. She brought it back with the string!'
'She is so very honest . . .' said Rosemary awesomely.
'That's it?' cried Theo. 'You got the poison, there?'
'It's here. And it's been here all afternoon,' said Mr. Gibson, and he took the bowl tenderly with him and sat down and held it on his lap and bowed his head.
'We must inform the police,' said Mrs. Boatright briskly—but with deep pleasure.
'We are all heroes,' said the bus driver.
But Jeanie Townsend, girl heroine, stood with all the other heroes, and frowned. 'But why doesn't Miss Gibson know about the poisoned olive oil?' she asked. 'I heard them telling all about it ... on her radio. This one, right here.'
'I . . . don't under—what poison?' said Ethel, rising, tottering. 'I don't understand. Olive oil?' Paul began, 'He stole it from my lab . . .' 'The laboratory called earlier,' said Mrs. Boatright
sharply. 'They were just on the line. They had discovered their loss. The police had not got to them then. But surely, they must have told you about your brother who had the only opportunity—'
'I—took a message,' said Ethel thickly. 'Nobody mentioned . . . poison? Did Ken have poison?' Her eyes rolled.
'He was going to do himself in,' said the bus driver chattily. 'But he thinks better of it now.'
'Do himself . . . what? Please . . .'
'He thinks better of it now,' said Rosemary shakily. 'Oh, darling, have we really found it?'
'Right here,' said Mr. Gibson. 'I've got it.' He tightened his tight fingers. Rosemary looked angelic, suddenly, as if she would now fly up to the ceiling on great white wings.
'Je-ust a minute,' said Theo Marsh. He looked at Lee Coffey. 'What have we here?' he inquired. > 'Hoist?'
'Hoist! Hoist!' croaked the bus driver. 'I see what you mean. With her own petard.' He flung out one arm.
'Uh-AwIiI'' said Theo. 'We better analyze this. Now, Ethel . . .' He rounded upon her. 'You know, of course, that we are all impelled by subconscious forces. Primitive and low. Hey?' (He had picked up the bus driver's 'hey.')
Ethel looked absolutely stupid.
'You say you didn't 'hear' the warning? Hah-hah-hah.' The artist gave forth a mirthless sound. 'But the subconscious hears all things, my dear. Now, you know that. Then the laboratory phoned. But told you nothing? Nor did you ask?'
'Likely story, all right,' said Lee cheerfully. 'Where was your subconscious . . . hey? All God's chillun got sub —'
