The Curved Blades

“We seem to have drifted from the subject of Miss Carrington,” Stone said. “The evening before her death was she in her usual spirits? Evidently no premonition of her fate?”

“On the contrary,” said Gray, “she remarked during the evening that something would happen to her that night which would surprise and astound us all. She said distinctly that ‘to-morrow everything would be different.’”

“What did you understand her to mean by that?”

“We couldn’t understand it at all. It was most mysterious. Nor do we yet know what she meant. For surely she had no thought of dying. She spent the evening playing cards and listening to music, and conversation with the family and guests, quite as usual.”

“In amiable mood?” asked Stone.

“No,” replied Pauline, taking up the talk; “on the contrary she was exceedingly irritable and ill-tempered.”

“You saw her after she went to her room for the night?” and Stone turned his whole attention to Pauline.

“Yes; Miss Frayne and I always went to her room with her, to say good-night and to receive possible orders or suggestions for the next day’s occupations.”

“And you say she was unamiable?”

“That is a mild word,” and Pauline smiled a little. “She was in a high temper, and she told us both that we were to leave this house the next day.”

“You both left her in that mood?”

“Yes, we were obliged to do so. She dismissed us peremptorily and ordered us from the room.”

“And you saw her next, Miss Stuart, when?” asked Fleming Stone gently.

Pauline hesitated for a perceptible instant, then she said, with a slight air of bravado, “next morning.”

“I have been told the main facts,” went on Stone, “but I want to learn certain details. Please tell me, Miss Stuart, exactly how she then appeared.”

“Oh, I can’t!” and Pauline flung her face into her hands with a short, sharp cry.

“I should think you couldn’t!” exclaimed Anita, and her voice was distinctly accusing.

This seemed to rouse Pauline, and she looked up haughtily at the speaker. “I don’t wonder you think so!” she cried. “But since you ask, Mr. Stone, I will do the best I can. My aunt was seated at her dressing-table, but not in her usual chair, – or indeed, as if she were in any way attending to her toilette, – but in an easy chair, more as if she were sitting there in contemplation.”

“Was she given to such indications of vanity?” asked Stone, in a gentle way.

“Not at all. My aunt was not a beautiful woman, and she had no illusions about her personal appearance. I have never known her to look at herself in a mirror more than was necessary for her dressing. Her maid will tell you this.”

“Go on, please, Miss Stuart.”

“When I saw my aunt, she was sitting placidly, even smilingly, – and I did not, for a moment, imagine she was not alive. Then I noticed her large tortoise-shell comb was broken to bits, and I noticed, too, her rigid, staring face. The next few moments are a confused memory to me, but I know I touched her hand and felt it cold, then I called to Mr. Haviland and he came.”

“Tell me of your aunt’s garb. I understand it was most unusual.”

“Only in the accessories. The gown she had on was a negligée of Oriental make and fabric, elaborate, but one of which she was fond and which she had worn several times. Round her shoulders was a scarf, one of those heavy Syrian ones, of net patterned with silver. Then, she had on quantities of jewelry. Not only her pearls, and a few pins, which she had worn during the evening, but she had added many brooches and bracelets and rings of great value.”

“She was wearing, let us say, a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry?”

“Far more than that. Her pearls alone are worth that amount. Her diamond sunburst is valued at fifty thousand dollars and her emerald brooch is equally valuable. My aunt believed in gems as an investment, and though she usually kept them in a safe deposit vault, she had recently taken them from there, and had them all in the house.”

“A strange proceeding?”

“Very. I have never known such a thing to occur before unless for some especial social occasion.”

“And the paper snake, of which I have been told – ”

“That is the strangest part of all! My aunt was not only afraid of live snakes, but she had also a perfect horror of any picture or artificial representation of them. She could never, in her right mind, have placed that paper snake about her own neck, nor would she have allowed any one else to do it, without screaming out in horror. Yet, the doctors declare it must have been placed round her neck before death. Therefore, it is to me entirely unexplainable.”

“Is not that a bizarre clue that should make the case an easy one?” asked Anita, with an inquiring glance at Stone.

“It may be so,” he replied, with a thoughtful look at her. “Where could such a snake have come from?”

“It was brought by the burglar, of course,” said Pauline, quickly.

“I don’t mean that; but where could it be bought?”

“Oh, at Vantine’s or any Japanese shop,” said Pauline, “or at some of the department stores.”

“Could you, by inquiry, find out if Miss Carrington purchased it herself at any of those places?”

“I could inquire; but I am sure, Mr. Stone, that Aunt Lucy never bought such a thing.”

“It would simplify matters somewhat if you would kindly find out,” and Stone nodded at her, as if to stamp this suggestion a definite request.

The conversation went on, and no one noticed that so deftly did Fleming Stone guide it that only facts were brought out. No sooner did any one begin to formulate an opinion or theory than he skilfully turned the subject or changed the drift of the discussion.

He gathered from facial expressions and manners much that he wanted to know, he learned the attitudes of the various members of the household toward each other, and he came to the conclusion that as Gray Haviland had engaged him, and as he stood as business head of the estate by authority of Carrington Loria, to Haviland should his reports be made.

“Tell me more of Mr. Loria,” Stone said, at last, after many matters had been discussed.

“He and I are children of Miss Carrington’s two sisters,” said Pauline. “Our parents all died when we were young children and Aunt Lucy brought us both up. Carr, as we call him, lived with us, except for his college terms, until four years ago. Then he had an opportunity to go to Egypt and engage in excavation and ancient research work. He is absorbed in it, and has been home only twice in the four years. It was planned that my aunt and I should go to Egypt next month on a pleasure trip, and both he and we looked forward eagerly to it. Miss Frayne was to accompany us, and Mr. Haviland also.”

“Is it your intention to abandon the trip?”

“Speaking for myself, Mr. Stone, no,” and Pauline looked determined. “I cannot answer for the others, but it seems to me that such a visit to my cousin would be not only right and proper for me, but the only way for me to find relief and distraction from these dreadful scenes.”

“You won’t go, I assume,” said Stone, gently, “until the murderer of your aunt is apprehended with certainty?”

“I cannot say,” and suddenly Pauline flushed rosily and looked distinctly embarrassed.

“Rather not!” declared Anita, with an unpleasant glance, and Fleming Stone made haste to introduce a new phase of the subject.

XII

ESTELLE’S STORY

At the invitation of Haviland, Fleming Stone was a house guest at Garden Steps. Pauline had raised objections to this, but with Carr Loria’s authority back of him, Gray had insisted, and Pauline unwillingly consented.