"There need be—no stain on the name of—Callender—if you are as clever in hiding the secret as you've been—in finding it out," she said, with a catch in her breath between words.
"What have you done?" I asked.
"You know—don't you—you who know everything? The ring was my Italian mother's—and her mother's before her. Who can tell how long it has been in our family? It was empty when it came to me, but——"
"But you put into it some of the same poison Antonio Tostini made up for Perry and Ned Callender-Graham?"
"Do you think you can force me to accuse the Tostinis? You shall not drag a word from me. When Paolo hears I am dead he will die also, before you can find him. Antonio you cannot touch. He is in Italy. Thank Heaven their father is dead! And now I think—I had better go home or—or to my doctor's. Grace and Roger Odell—wouldn't like me to die here. It might—start scandal. I am feeling—a little faint."
"Aunt Marian!" Grace sobbed. But Odell held the girl in his arms and would not let her go.
"Take Miss Callender away, Odell—quickly," I advised. "I'll attend to—Mrs. Tostini."
Like one who walks in a dream I shut the safe on my way to the desk, and telephoned downstairs for a taxi. "One of the ladies who called has been taken ill, I must drive her to a doctor's," I explained.
"You think of everything," Marian Tostini said. She laughed softly. "My heart has always been weak."
"Taxi is here, sir," a voice called up through the 'phone.