He turned to her so swiftly that she was taken back, and in her nervousness went a shade pale under her olive tan.

"I--don't know, Mr. Deland. I really never noticed...."

"But _I_ did." It was Catherine Dowd who spoke, a note of decision in her clear voice. "The centre window was open, Mr. Deland--from the bottom. Wide open."

"Yes--of course it was," Maud Duggan broke in excitedly. "I remember noticing how the curtains blew while poor Father was speaking. Don't you, Ross?"

He shook his head miserably.

"I don't remember anything but what actually took place," he returned, in a low, unhappy voice. "I was so furious, Maud; you must remember the ignominy of--of Father calling in everyone like this to see my name struck out of the will! If he'd done it in private, even, it would not have been so bad, but in front of others, people who were not of our family"--his glance travelled from Johanna's mouse-like countenance to the inscrutable Catherine's. "It--it seemed hardly cricket to me, and I was boiling over. I wish to G.o.d I hadn't been! It would have made it much easier to bear--now!"

"My poor Ross!"

Cynthia's voice, very low and tender, crept across to him, and he gave her a weary smile in acknowledgment.

"Well, now," said Cleek evenly, "let's start away at this wretched affair. Mr. Duggan, you were the only other gentleman present besides your father. Perhaps you will tell me how things went. The ladies look somewhat pale. It's rather an ordeal, I'm afraid, but a very necessary one. Your father, I understand, seated himself and began to denounce you in a loud voice, and you----"

"Retaliated, Mr. Deland. Yes, I'm afraid I did. Poor old Dad! But I was pretty well strung up. And then, just as he had sat down again--he was standing up before, waving his fist in the air and calling me all sorts of names"--his voice broke a tone or two and then recovered itself--"just as he had taken up the pen and was about to scratch out my name and subst.i.tute my sister's, out went the lights; we were plunged immediately into utter darkness, and in the midst of it----"

"We heard distinctly the sound of the spinning wheel, humming just as the Peasant Girl said it would hum upon the approaching death of any male member of the family," supplemented Maud Duggan feverishly and with much excitement. "Hum-hum-hum! it went, Mr. Deland; then there was a swishing sound as of someone moving hurriedly--a sort of half-gasp--a--a--oh! how shall I describe it?----"

"A whizz and a whirr, and then the lights came up and there lay Sir Andrew in his chair--dead."

The finale came from Catherine Dowd, who spoke in a low, tense voice, every note of which sounded in that quiet room, and made the atmosphere vibrate with the feeling of it.

"My G.o.d!"

The exclamation came from Lady Paula's and Mr. Narkom's lips simultaneously, but from very different causes. For the lady had gone suddenly white as death and fallen back against the wall, both hands pressed to her face and her shoulders shaking.

Maud Duggan hastened to her immediately, while Miss McCall, like the perfectly trained companion she was, produced smelling-salts from the capacious pocket of her blue serge coat-frock, and held it under her mistress's nose. A dose of brandy set the lady to rights, and her Southern emotionalism subsided when she sat down in front of the open window.

She looked up into Cleek's downbent face with wide eyes.

"I am so sorry," she said. "But it brought it all back--so dreadfully--so terribly! Oh, I shall never forget it--never! Miss McCall, my smelling-salts, again, please.... Thank you. Mr. Deland, you have still--much more to proceed with?"

He nodded.

"A good deal, I'm afraid. In the first place, I must tell you that we have discovered one of the weapons--the stiletto which stabbed your husband, Lady Paula. There remains but the air-pistol--and that will not be a difficult matter, either, I imagine." He looked significantly at Ross, whose face went suddenly scarlet.

"I say--if you dare to accuse--_me_...."

"Not so fast, my friend; I'm accusing n.o.body," returned Cleek serenely, "and too much protestation often hides a guilty conscience. Please say nothing until you are questioned. It is the safest way. First--the stiletto."

He drew it from his pocket and held it aloft where they could all see it, the sunshine fighting upon its fine blade and turning it into a narrow ribbon of brilliancy.

"Can any one claim this, please?"

There was an instant's hush of amazement as all looked at the thing, as of the stillness before the storm, and then Maud Duggan hurried forward and seized it in her two hands.

"It is my stepmother's!" she exclaimed emphatically, and at the sound of her voice Lady Paula sprang to her feet, instantly upon the defense, and her faintness forgotten in this exciting moment.

"Mine--mine! Oh, of course it is mine!" she shrilled like a veritable harpy. "Every one of you would like to accuse me of this terrible crime, I suppose. Mine?--yes, it is mine. But who had it last, I ask you? That is another question to answer. Who but yourself, Maud?"

"Not yesterday, Paula."

"The day before, then----"

"It was I you lent it to the day before, if you remember, Paula," struck in Ross's voice quietly. "Please try to stick to facts as much as possible."

"Well, you, then--or your wretched sister--one or the other of you," she returned vehemently, stung out of all thought of good-breeding by the sudden appearance of this thing of ill-repute. "What does it matter, so long as it was used by one of you?"

"And you will remember, if you think back, that I myself brought it up to your boudoir and handed it to you, Paula, and I myself saw you place it in your top drawer," interposed Ross, still in that ice-cold terrible voice which is so much more horrible to bear than red-hot anger.

"You lie!--you lie!"

"He does not!" It was Johanna McCall who spoke at this juncture--Johanna, with two red spots of colour in her usually pale cheeks and her eyes fairly blazing. "I saw him do it, too-- _I_ saw you, Mr. Duggan. Don't believe what she says, Mr. Deland! It is she who lies-- I swear that!"

To and fro the evil words flew like vultures seeking to peck each other's hearts out in the combat. In the sudden hush which followed this last denouncement, while Lady Paula was acc.u.mulating her forces to retaliate, Cleek held up his hand.

"Then I take it," he said, "that the stiletto is the property of Lady Paula, but that it was last used by Mr. Duggan, who returned it to Lady Paula in the presence of a witness, and she put it back into her drawer.

That is correct, is it not?"

"A lie--an absolute lie!"

"Perfectly correct, Mr. Deland."

"Thank you, Mr. Duggan. At any rate, the ownership of the thing is established, which, by the way, Lady Paula, makes no a.s.sertion whatever as to incriminating _you_ in this disastrous affair. Miss Debenham, would you mind coming over here for a moment? I would like to look at your dress----"

"My _dress_, Mr. Deland?"

He smiled at her with disarming frankness.

"No wonder you think I am mad, but--ah, yes! see, right here on this panel--I thought I was not mistaken. If you wouldn't mind turning round a little more toward the middle of the room, Miss Debenham--thank you--right here; those dark stains." He went down on his knees suddenly and sniffed them, rubbed them with his fingers, and then beckoned the mystified Mr. Narkom, who joined him immediately. "You see, Mr. Narkom, what it is? Rather peculiar, isn't it?"

"What the devil are you driving at?" demanded Ross at this juncture, striding around the desk and taking up a stand beside his fiancee as though to shield her from the hands of these merciless probers of human hearts. "I wish to G.o.d you and your kind had never showed up here at all, I do, indeed! You always bring trouble in your wake."

"_Follow_ trouble, I think you mean, my friend," supplemented Cleek quietly. "The trouble is generally there first. It is our business to see that it is thrust upon--the right shoulders."

"Then Cynthia--what are you driving at now?"

There was a moment's tense silence. Then Cleek's voice sounded clearly:

"Simply this. Those three stains there--long, narrow ones--upon Miss Debenham's gown (I noticed them this morning at breakfast) are--bloodstains, Mr. Duggan--_bloodstains_!"

CHAPTER XIII