“Why,—they,—oh, they’re women,—women couldn’t do a thing like that!”
“But, ‘women’ did do it,—according to your story.”
“Of course; but it must have been a lower class of women,—not ladies, like my aunt and Mrs Everett.”
“Is that ‘feud’ of which you’ve told me, a distinctly ladylike performance?”
“No; it isn’t. It’s a——”
“I gather, from your report of it, it’s a regular old-fashioned hair-pulling sort of feminine spitefulness.”
“That’s just what it is; and it is in bad taste and all that sort of thing. But murder! That’s different!”
“Of course it’s different, and must be treated differently. If your aunt’s name is so much as hinted at in connection with crime, you must clear it,—if possible. Here we have a murder,—a mysterious murder. The police have been notified, that puts it into the public’s hands. You can’t afford to hold back anything now. Nor can you afford to conceal or gloss over anything. That would be to invite suspicion. Absolute frankness on your part and on the part of your aunt is imperative.”
“You’ll get it from me, but Solomon himself couldn’t understand my aunt if she chose to be secretive.”
“Why should she be secretive?”