“Cicely! You don’t mean she killed Maddy! Oh, how can you?”
“Now, don’t fly into hysterics yourself. Wait a minute. I haven’t accused her at all. But look at it. Miss Van Norman was certainly killed by Carleton, or by someone already in the house. It has been proved that nobody outside could get in. Now if the criminal is someone in the house, we must consider each one in turn. And if by chance we consider Miss Dupuy first, we must admit a motive.”
“What motive?”
“Why, that of a jealous woman. Miss Van Norman was just about to marry the man Miss Dupuy is in love with. Perhaps—do have patience, I’m merely supposing—perhaps she has vainly urged Miss Van Norman to give him up, and, finding she wouldn’t do so, at the last minute she prevented the marriage herself—putting that paper on the table to make it appear a suicide. This would explain her stealthy attempt to regain possession of the paper later.”
“Why should she want it?”
“So that it couldn’t be proved not to be in Miss Van Norman’s writing.”
“It’s ingenious on your part,” said Kitty slowly, “but it can’t be true. Cicely may be in love with Schuyler, but she wouldn’t kill Maddy because of that.”
“Who can tell what a hysterical, jealous woman will do?” said Rob, with the air of an oracle. “And moreover, to my mind, that explains her half-conscious exclamation of which you just told me. When she said, ‘They must not think Schuyler did it,’ it meant that she knew he didn’t do it, but she didn’t want suspicion to rest on him. That’s why she insists it was a suicide.”
So in earnest was Fessenden that Kitty felt almost convinced there was something in his theory.
“But it can’t be,” she said, at last, with an air of finality. “It wouldn’t be possible for Cicely to do such a thing! I know her too well!”
“Then, Miss French, if that, to you, is a logical argument, you must admit mine. It wouldn’t be possible for Carleton to do such a thing! I know him too well!”
Kitty had to smile at the imitation of the strong inflections she had used, and, too, she had to admit that one opinion was as permissible as the other.
“You see,” went on Rob quietly, “we’re not really assuming Miss Dupuy’s guilt, we’re only seeing where these deductions lead us. Suppose, for the moment, that Miss Dupuy did, during that half-hour in the library, have an altercation with Miss Van Norman, and just suppose—or imagine, if you prefer the word—that she turned the dagger upon her friend and employer, wouldn’t her subsequent acts have been just as they were? At Mr. Carleton’s alarm, she came downstairs, fully dressed; later she tried to remove secretly that written paper; always at serious questioning she faints or flies into hysterics; and, naturally, when suspicion comes near the man she cares for, she tries to turn it off. And then, too, Miss French, a very strong point against her is that she was the last one, so far as we know, to see Miss Van Norman alive. Of course, the murderer was the last one; but I mean, of the witnesses, Miss Dupuy was the latest known to be with Miss Van Norman. Thus, her evidence cannot be corroborated, and it may or may not be true. If she is the guilty one, we cannot expect the truth from her, and so we must at least admit that there is room for investigation, if not suspicion.”
“I suppose you are right,” said Kitty slowly; “a man’s mind is said to be more logical. A woman depends more on her intuition. Now, my intuition tells me that Cicely Dupuy can not be the guilty one.”
“At risk of tiresome repetition,” returned Fessenden, “I must say again that that is no more convincing than my ‘intuition’ that Carleton can not be the guilty one.”
Kitty’s smile showed her quick appreciation of this point, and Rob went on:
“Though suspicion, so far, is cast in no other direction, it is only fair to consider all the others in the house. This will, of course, be done in due time. I approve of Mr. Benson, and I think, though his manners are pompous and at times egotistical, he has a good mind and a quick intelligence. He will do his part, I am sure, and then, if necessary, others will be brought into the case. But, as Carleton’s friend, I shall devote all my energies to clearing him from what I know is an unjust suspicion.”
And then Rob Fessenden went away. Mrs. Markham asked him to remain to dinner, but he declined, preferring to go home with Carleton. He said he would return next morning, and said too that he meant to stay in Mapleton as long as he could be of any service to any of his friends.
This decision was, of course, the result of his great friendship for Carleton, and his general interest in the Van Norman case, but it was also partly brought about by the bewitching personality of Kitty French and the impression she had made on his not usually susceptible heart.
And being master of his own time, Fessenden resolved to stay for a few days and observe developments along several lines.
XIV
The Carleton Household
Mrs. Carleton’s dinner table that evening presented a very different atmosphere from the night before.
The hostess herself was present only by a strong effort of will power. Mrs. Carleton had been greatly overcome by the shock of the dreadful news, and, aside from the sadness and horror of the tragedy, she was exceedingly disappointed at what seemed to her the ruin of her son’s future.
The Carletons were an old and aristocratic family, though by no means possessed of great fortune.
The
