“Well, don’t quote me,—but I do know Letitia Prall’s nature and you know it’s said, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”
Zizi faced her squarely and with a sharp look said, “You know, Mrs Everett, you’re making a very grave accusation. Do you really think Miss Prall is——”
“Yes, I do! That man was killed. He said women did it. There are no women sufficiently interested in his death to be suspected of it except Letitia and Eliza Gurney. So, much as I hate to think so dreadfully of any woman, I’ve no choice but to suspect them. Of course, it’s a grave accusation, but you asked me and it’s my duty to say what I think.”
From all this Zizi gleaned one bit of satisfaction. She felt positive that Mrs Everett herself was innocent. She had never really suspected the little widow but her name had been mentioned as a possible suspect, and Zizi wondered. Now, she decided that, whatever might be true about Letitia Prall, Mrs Everett could not, were she guilty herself, talk the way she did about her enemy. Not so much the accusation as the way it was said. Had Mrs Everett killed the man, or assisted or directed the murder, she would have shown fear, secretiveness, or at least a harassed demeanor. Instead of which, she had apparently no interest in the matter save a vindictive desire to see her enemy in the clutches of the law.
Anyway, thought Zizi, I cross her off from my list of suspects, and now for the Prall side of the story.
Leaving the Everett apartment Zizi went up the stairs to the eighth floor, and though she was headed for Letitia Prall’s, she paused at the Binney rooms.
“Come in,” called Wise, as the sleek black little head peeped in at the door; “I’ve struck it!”
“Where?” asked Zizi, intuitively knowing that he had found the hiding place of the paper.
“Here,” and Wise drew her attention to a fairly large mirror that was above the mantel in the sitting-room.
“Why, that thing was screwed fast,” the girl said, “and we couldn’t move it.”