child reciting a lesson. I suppose it seemed unreal to her. Yet it was real enough, too.
“You were with him,” said Soper. “You had a motive…” He began his attack with bluster, but Nugent’s voice cut sharply into the bluster, “Miss Cable,” he said, “will you make a statement of exactly what you did do? Just tell it to us in your own words.”
“I think she ought to have a lawyer,” I said again. “You can refuse to talk, Drue.” I wasn’t sure that she could refuse to answer their questions, but in any case she lifted her firm little chin and looked at Nugent.
“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’ll tell you as much as I can.” I held my breath again and tried to think of ways to stop her if she said too much.
“I was in the library as Nicky says,” she began.
“All right, Miss Cable, go on.”
“I did want to talk to Mr. Brent. So I waited until he returned from his walk, then I came to the library. We talked for some time. He had a heart attack then and…” She faltered, and I was sure she was going to tell about the hypodermic. I rustled warningly. A faint flush came into her face and her hand went up to her throat, almost as if to stop the words on her lips. “And-he died,” she said. “If such a large amount of digitalis was found, I don’t know how he got it.”
Well, that was true enough and so far safe. But I wished I could be sure that she saw, as I saw, that the one thing they were after was an admission that she had given Conrad digitalis. It was the important material evidence; it was the clinching fact, it was the missing link in the chain they had forged. There was no possible way for her to prove, ever (to them, or to a jury), how much she had given him, and that it was not a lethal amount. Her instinct was for telling them the truth, I knew that; and the truth would have been, literally, the most horrible and fatal trap, as things stood then. Soper burst into question again.
“But this revolver, Miss Cable. You had a revolver. Why?”
She turned to face him. “I found that revolver in the garden,” she said steadily, “yesterday afternoon.”
“G-garden,” said the District Attorney.
“Where my-that is, where Craig was shot that night. It was hidden and I found it. In the burlap wrapping around one of the rose shrubs.”
Nugent’s eyes had an odd expression. “Why did you look for it, Miss Cable?” he said. “Why did you bring it to your room?”
She turned back to him; there was less defiance in her manner when she spoke to Nugent, more confidence- which might be her undoing. She seemed to trust him and to want to tell him the whole story and Soper was ready and eager to pounce upon any unguarded admission. She said, “Because I didn’t believe the story of an accident. I went to the garden just to have a look at the place where my”-again she corrected herself quickly-“where Craig had been hurt. I searched it and I found the gun. That’s all. I brought it to my room because I intended to show it to Craig when he was better.”
“Why?” said Nugent rather softly.
“Because it proved someone shot at him,” she said.
“He says it was accident,” said Nugent, watching her closely. “He ought to know.”
“I wanted him to have that revolver,” she said with a kind of obliquity.
“You’re saying that his accident was actually an attempted murder?” cried Soper.
Again she whirled around to face him, her chin high, her voice steady. “He wouldn’t have shot himself like that! He wouldn’t have been cleaning a gun in the garden at eleven o’clock at night!”
“Did you know that the revolver belonged to Conrad Brent?”
“I wasn’t sure. I knew that he’d had a revolver.”
“Did he admit it belonged to him? When you took it to the library, I mean?”
“Yes. That is, by implication. He recognized it and asked where I’d found it.”
“See here, Miss Cable,” said Soper with a crafty look, “did you accuse him of trying to kill his son?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“Why did you give him the revolver?”
“Because I wanted him to know of it, of course. I wanted him to know that I had found it in the garden, hidden. I wanted him to know.”
“Why?” said Soper again.
“Naturally because something ought to be done about it. It proved that Craig didn’t shoot himself. He wouldn’t have hidden it.”
“Exactly what did he say?”
Drue flushed. “He said I couldn’t have found the revolver just there. He said I was-was trying to make trouble.”
“And you…”
“I saw then that he was ill. I told him he’d better lie down. I started to leave but he-he asked me to stay with him. And then he got worse. All at once. And-and died.”
After a moment Nugent said, “Who do you think shot Craig?”
Again the defiance went out of her. She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know…”
“
“I didn’t quarrel with him. I asked him to permit me to stay and take care of Craig.”
“You quarreled with him! You were heard yesterday afternoon when he tried to send you away. You blamed him for breaking up your marriage. You came here in the hope of getting young Brent back again. But his father wouldn’t let you, so you killed him.”
Drue’s face wasn’t white any more; two scarlet flames were in her cheeks, her eyes flashed. “I came here to nurse Craig,” she said. “And he was my husband until his father…”
“Drue, Drue!” I cried, my hand on her arm.
And Soper said, “Arrest her, Nugent. I insist upon it. I’ll make you responsible if she gets away. It’s a murder charge, there’s no use in prolonging this thing. Take her away…”
“I don’t think there’s enough evidence-material evidence-to convict,” said Nugent softly but very coolly.
“Enough evidence!” snorted the District Attorney. “What more do you want? There’s the hypodermic…”
“We haven’t made sure that she had one.”
“You will, you will! No use asking her, she’d only lie. Yes, and you”-he pounced on me, his eyes angry, bright slits in his red face-“you are putting her up to it. Well, we’ll take care of you, too. Besides, there’s the witness…”
“Nicky Senour,” said Nugent again softly. “And he says he won’t swear to it. Besides, he didn’t see her kill him. He said only that she was in the library with Brent…”
“He said they were having a row. That kind of thing goes a long way with a jury. Don’t be a fool, Nugent. You’ll get the evidence. But put the girl under arrest; make sure you’ve got her. All the evidence in the world won’t do you any good later if you’ve let the girl who did it get away. Arrest her…”
“I’ll take her into custody,” said the Lieutenant slowly.
“Custody! What do you mean by that?”
“I’ll keep her here, in her room. Under guard,” said Nugent.
And in the end, incredibly, that was exactly what he did. But first they questioned her again, and made me leave before they began. I would have stayed; but when a District Attorney, a Police Lieutenant and two remarkably stalwart and able-bodied troopers are lined up against one, there’s nothing much to do. I retired as ungracefully as it lay in my power to do and sat on the bench in the hall watching the door. Never before in my whole nursing experience have I let anything come between me and my patient but frankly, while I sat there, eyes glued to the door of that room, trying and failing to hear anything but a rapid murmur of voices, I didn’t care whether Craig Brent lived or died, except I hated him so, just then, for being the cause of Drue’s presence in that ill-omened house that I’d a little rather he’d have died, preferably in boiling oil. If I could have made him come alive again. My own impulses to murder, while vehement in their way, are not very lasting.
Once I did go upstairs. The door to Craig’s room was open and I peeked in cautiously. Peter Huber was sitting in a chair beside him, smoking. Anna was standing at the window, her back toward the room and her head bent
