The Curved Blades

“Yes, we have each ten thou’ beside, which was all right of the old lady, eh, Anita?”

“None too much, considering what I have stood from her capricious temper and eccentric ways,” returned the girl.

“Your own temper is none too even,” said Pauline, quietly; “I’d rather you wouldn’t speak ill of my aunt, if you please.”

What might have been a passage at arms was averted by the appearance of a footman with a cablegram.

“It’s from Carr!” exclaimed Pauline, as she tore it open, and read:

Awful news just received. Shall I come home or will you come here? Let Haviland attend all business. Love and sympathy.

    Carrington Loria.

“He’s in Cairo,” commented Haviland, looking at the paper; “that’s lucky. If he had been off up the Nile on one of his excavating tours, we mightn’t have had communication for weeks. Well, he practically retains me as business manager, at least for the present. And Lord knows there’s a lot to be done!”

“I don’t understand, Gray, why you look upon Carr as more in authority than I am,” said Pauline, almost petulantly; “I am an equal heir, and, too, I am here, and Carr is the other side of the world.”

“That’s so, Polly. I don’t know why, myself. I suppose because he is the man of the family.”

“That doesn’t make any difference. I think from now on, Gray, it will be proper for you to consider me the head of the house as far as business matters are concerned. You can pay Carr his half of the residuary in whatever form he wants it. I shall keep the place, at least for the present.”

“Won’t Mr. Loria come back to America?” asked Hardy.

“I scarcely think so,” replied Pauline. “There’s really no use of his doing so, unless he chooses. And I’m pretty sure he won’t choose, as he’s so wrapped up in his work over there, that he’d hate to leave unless necessary.”

“But won’t he feel a necessity to help investigate the murder?” urged Hardy.

“I don’t know,” and Pauline looked thoughtful. “You see what he says; when he asks if he shall come home, he means do I want him to. If I don’t request it, I’m fairly sure he won’t come. Of course, when he learns all the details, he will be as anxious as we that the murderer should be found. But if I know Carr, he will far rather pay for the most expensive detective service than come over himself. And, too, what could he do, more than we can? We shall, of course, use every effort and every means to solve the mysteries of the case, and he could advise us no better than the lawyers already in our counsel.”

“That’s all true,” said Haviland; “and I think Loria means that when he puts me in charge of it all. But after a week or so we’ll get a letter from him, and he’ll tell us what he intends to do.”

“I shall cable him,” said Pauline, thoughtfully, “not to come over unless he wants to. Then he can do as he likes. But he needn’t come for my benefit. The property must be divided and all that, but we can settle any uncertainties by mail or cable. And, I think I shall go on the trip as we had planned it.”

“You do!” said Gray, in amazement. “Go to Egypt?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not. I’d like the trip, and it would take my mind off these horrors. Our passage is booked for a February sailing. If necessary I will postpone it a few weeks, but I see no reason why I shouldn’t go. Do you?”

“No,” said Haviland, slowly.

Hardy seemed about to speak and then thought better of it, and said nothing.

“Of course I shall not go,” began Anita, and Pauline interrupted her with:

“You go! I should say not! Why should you?”

“Why shouldn’t I, if I choose?” returned Anita, and her pink cheeks burned rosy. “I am my own mistress, I have my own money. I am as free to go as you are.”

“Of course you are,” said Pauline, coldly. “Only please advise me on what steamer you are sailing.”

“That you may take another,” and Anita laughed shortly. “But I may prefer to go on the one you do. Aren’t you rather suddenly anxious to leave this country?”

Pauline faced her. “Anita Frayne,” she said, “if you suspect me of crime, I would rather you said so definitely, than to fling out these continual innuendoes. Do you?”

“I couldn’t say that Pauline. But there are, – there certainly are some things to be explained regarding your interview with your aunt on Tuesday night. You know, I heard you in her room.”

“Your speech, Anita, is that of a guilty conscience. As you well know, I saw you come from her room at the hour you accuse me of being there.”

“Let up, girls,” said Haviland; “you only make trouble by that sort of talk.”

“But when an innocent man is arrested, Pauline ought to tell what she knows!”

“I have told, and it seems to implicate you!”

The impending scene was averted by Haviland, who insisted on knowing what word should be sent to Loria.

“May as well get it off,” he said; “it takes long enough to get word back and forth to him, anyway. What shall I say for you, Polly?”

“Tell him to come over or not, just as he prefers, but that I shall be quite content if he does not care to come; and that I shall go to Egypt as soon as I can arrange to do so. Put it into shape yourself, – you know more about cabling than I do.”

Haviland went away to the library, and Hardy followed.

“Look here, Mr. Haviland,” said the latter, “what do these ladies mean by accusing each other of all sorts of things? Did either of them have any hand in this murder?”

“Not in a thousand years!” declared Gray, emphatically. “The girls never loved each other, but lately, even before the death of Miss Lucy, they have been at daggers drawn. I don’t know why, I’m sure!”

“But what do you make of this story of Miss Frayne’s about hearing Miss Stuart in her aunt’s room?”

“She didn’t hear her. I mean she didn’t hear Miss Stuart; what she heard was Miss Carrington talking to herself. The old lady was erratic in lots of ways.”

“Why do you all say the old lady? She wasn’t really old.”

“About fifty. But she tried so hard to appear young, that it made her seem older.”

“She was in love with the Count, of course?”

“Yes; as she was in love with any man she could attach. No, that’s not quite true. Miss Lucy cared only for interesting men, but if she could corral one of those, she used every effort to snare him.”

“Is the illustrious Count interesting?”

“She found him so. And, yes, he always entertained us. She made that bequest to attract his attention and lure him on. And then – ”

“Well, and then?”

“Oh, then he couldn’t withstand the temptation and he shuffled her off, to make sure of the money now.”

“You think he killed her, then?”

“Who else? Those girls never used a black-jack – ”