“Where is Miss Vernon?” he asked abruptly.
“You can’t see her to-day,” returned Joyce, “the poor child is prostrated.”
“What did she hope to gain by her trance performance?” asked Roberts, mulling over Joyce’s story.
“She hoped to get some sort of manifestation that would tell her who was the murderer. She never thought of having the jewels restored.”
“Now, Mrs. Stannard, there’s no use trying to dodge the issue. We’ve been pretty suspicious of Miss Vernon from the first. This last matter settles it, to my mind. You know that unsent letter found in Mr. Stannard’s desk was without doubt meant for Miss Vernon. You know it said that she knew where the jewels were hidden. Now, she has proved that she did know, and she produced them in this hocus-pocus way, to hide her theft.”
“No, no, Mr. Roberts, I cannot believe it! Natalie is not bad enough for all that maneuvering; nor would she, I’m sure, be capable of it. Again, granting you’re right in suspecting her of making up last evening’s events, how could she imitate Mr. Stannard’s voice——”
“Oh, that was hypnotism. Miss Vernon is psychic, and, too, she evidently possesses the power of hypnotising at will. She made you believe you heard those sounds. She made you believe the lights went out——”
“Oh, I know the light went out! I couldn’t be mistaken as to that!”
“No, but I mean she went and turned them out while you thought she still sat by your side. Weren’t your eyes closed?”
“No, they were wide open. She did not leave her seat. The lights were turned off by a hand other than hers, whether mortal or spirit, I cannot say.”