“Yes, you did,” said Fessenden, so quietly that again Cicely was silent, and Kitty sat surprised almost to breathlessness.
“There is to be only truth between us,” went on Rob. “You did mean Mr. Carleton, by the letter ‘S’; but have no fear, your secret shall be respected. Now we will have only the truth—remember that. So please tell me frankly at what time you saw Mr. Carleton come into the house last night?”
“Just a few moments before half-past eleven.” Cicely said this glibly, as if reciting a carefully-conned lesson.
“Wait a moment—you forget that Mr. Hunt fixed the time at quarter after eleven, and that he saw you looking over the baluster at the same time.”
With an agonized cry of dismay, Miss Dupuy fainted into utter unconsciousness.
Perplexed and baffled in his inquiries, Fessenden saw that for the moment Miss Dupuy’s physical condition was of paramount importance, and at Kitty’s request he rang for Marie. Even before she came the others had placed Cicely gently on a couch, and when the maid arrived Fessenden left the room, knowing that the girl was properly cared for.
Going downstairs again, he was about to make his adieux to Mrs. Markham and leave the house, when Kitty French, coming down soon after him, asked him to stay a few minutes longer.
The sight of her pretty face drove more serious thoughts from his mind, and he turned, more than willing to follow where she led. “Oh, whistle, and I’ll come to you,” he whispered. But Kitty had weighty information to impart, and was in no mood for trifling. They found a quiet corner, and then Kitty told him that Cicely had regained consciousness almost immediately, but that just before she did so, she cried out sharply, “They must not think Schuyler did it! They must not!”
“And so,” said Kitty, astutely, “you see, it’s as I told you. Mr. Carleton did kill Maddy, and Cicely knows it, but she doesn’t want other people to find it out, because she’s in love with him herself!”
Rob Fessenden gave his companion an admiring glance.