The Curved Blades

“There seems to be no theory to fit the facts,” said Stone, wearily, “so we must try to get some facts that may suggest a theory. You think, Miss Stuart, that you saw Miss Frayne leaving Miss Carrington’s room late that night?”

“I know I saw her with her hand on the door-knob,” returned Pauline steadily, and just then Anita herself burst into the room. “That is a falsehood!” she cried, and her big blue eyes flashed angrily; “how could you see me, when you were yourself in Miss Carrington’s room?”

This was what Stone had wanted, to get these two girls at variance; and he helped along by saying, “Were you, Miss Stuart?”

“Certainly not!” cried Pauline.

“You were!” Anita flung back. “Miss Carrington was talking to you! She said she wished her face was as beautiful as yours! To whom else could she have said that? Surely not to the Count! One doesn’t call a man beautiful. And we all know that Miss Carrington admired your looks and lamented her own lack of beauty.”

“All that applies equally well to yourself,” and Pauline gazed steadily at the blonde beauty of Anita. “Why wasn’t all that speech addressed to your own attractive face, and you repeat it to incriminate me?”

Here was an idea. Stone wondered if it could be that Anita was in the boudoir and to turn suspicion from herself tried to pretend she had heard Pauline in there.

“And she said you were fond of pearls!” went on Pauline. “Your admiration for my aunt’s pearls is an open secret!”

It was. Often had Anita said how much she preferred the soft lustre of pearls to the dazzling sparkle of other gems.

“And she left you ten thousand dollars in her will,” continued Pauline, more as if thinking these things over aloud than as if accusing Anita of crime.

“Wait, Miss Stuart,” cried Stone; “what are you doing? Implying that Miss Frayne had anything to do with the tragedy?”

“I am implying nothing. I am trying to see how far the accusations she makes against me will fit her own case. You remember she said my aunt proposed to leave my share of the fortune to some one else, but Carr’s share must remain untouched. Well, to whom else could she think of giving my share, but to this scheming girl who tried her best to get my portion, but did not succeed?”

Anita struggled to reply, but words would not come. So furious that she could not articulate, she gurgled hysterically, when into the room came Haviland and Hardy. Both looked exceedingly grave, and Gray went at once to Pauline and put his hand kindly on her shoulder. Then he suddenly caught sight of Anita and her evident distress, and leaving Pauline he went over to the other and put his arms gently round her.

“What is it, Anita?” he said. “What has upset you so?”

“Pauline!” was all Anita could say, when she was interrupted by Hardy.

“Let me speak first,” he said, for he saw there was dissension between the two girls. “I have made a discovery. At Mr. Stone’s directions I have been investigating shops where the paper snake might have been bought, and I have learned that one was bought at Vantine’s recently by Miss Stuart.”

“Ah,” said Fleming Stone gravely, “did you buy one, Miss Stuart?”

Pauline hesitated. She was white as chalk, and her lips quivered.

“Of course she did!” screamed Anita, greatly excited; “she did, and she was in there talking to Miss Carrington, just as I said! And she put that thing round her neck to frighten her! And then she gave her the poison, and then she came away and left her to die! All alone by herself! The fiend!”

“There, there, Anita, hush,” and Haviland tried to soothe the frantic exclamation of the girl.

Pauline stood waiting, in silence. At last she said, “When you remove that ranting woman, I will answer your question, Mr. Stone.”

“You’ll answer it now!” cried Anita. “In my presence, and at once.”

“I think you must answer, Miss Stuart,” said Stone, gently. “Did you buy a paper snake?”

“I did,” said Pauline, and added in a low tone, “A long time ago, – this can’t be the same one.”

“The date of the sale is about a week before the death of Miss Carrington,” went on Hardy, merciless in his statements.

“For what purpose did you purchase it?” asked Stone, a little sternly.

Pauline now drew herself up, proudly. “I bought it,” she said, in clear, distinct tones, “because my aunt instructed me to get it for her.”

There was a silence; and then, “Oh, come now, Pauline, you can’t expect us to swallow that!” Gray Haviland said, with a tolerant smile at her. “Try again.”

“That’s the truth,” said Pauline, but her voice trembled, and with a half-stifled exclamation of despair, she ran out of the room.

“Stop, Pauline, where are you going?” cried Haviland as he ran after her.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried. “I’m going to cable Carr to come home! He’s the only one who can help me! You’re so wrapped up in Anita that you can’t tell truth from falsehood. Carr will know what to do, – and I shall send for him.”

“Wait, Miss Stuart,” said Fleming Stone, gravely; “you may cable Mr. Loria, if you choose, but for a few moments I must claim your attention. It is, to my mind, of the greatest importance to learn the details of the purchase of that paper snake, and I must ask you to tell us the circumstances of your aunt’s request for it.”

“There is little to tell,” said Pauline, in a hesitant way. “It was one day when I was going over to New York that Aunt Lucy just said, casually, to get her one of those Japanese paper snakes from Vantine’s, and I did.”

“That’s enough!” cried Anita. “Miss Carrington never sent for a snake! never in the world! You’ll be saying next she told you to get her some aconite to poison herself with!”

XVI

THE TWO GIRLS

“Miss Stuart,” and Fleming Stone’s voice, though gentle, had a ring of decision, “if I am to go on with this case, I must insist on your entire confidence, and absolute, – ” he hesitated over the word, “truthfulness.”

The two were alone. After the altercation between Pauline and Anita, Stone had requested the others to leave them, and he determined to get at the truth of this marvelous statement about the purchase of the snake.

“I understand, and you are quite right,” murmured Pauline, her manner quiet, her tone even, but in the dark eyes raised to his Fleming Stone saw fear, – definite, unmistakable fear.

“Then explain, for I am sure you can, why you suppressed the fact of your own purchase of that paper snake until forced to admit it.”

“I was afraid.” The beautiful face was of a creamy pallor and the scarlet lips quivered. But this evident agitation on Miss Stuart’s part did not deter Stone from his probing queries.

“Why were you afraid? Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that if you knew I bought the snake you would think I was in some way connected with – with the crime – ”

“But don’t you see that to attempt to conceal the fact of your purchase makes any such suspicion more imminent?”

“You don’t think I would – would – ”

“I don’t want to think anything about it, Miss Stuart. I want to know, and I want you to tell me all about your aunt’s strange request for you to buy a thing she so feared and abhorred.”

“I don’t understand it myself. But Aunt Lucy was full of vagaries and would often ask me to buy strange or outlandish things for her.”

“But not of a reptilian nature?”

“No, she had never done such a thing before.”

“Did she give no reason for the request? Make no apology or explanation?”