“That’s good reasoning and sound logic,” he said; “and I’d subscribe to it if it were anybody but old Schuyler. But I can’t and won’t believe that man guilty without further evidence than that of a fainting, hysterical woman.”
“Everybody seems to be in love with Mr. Carleton,” said Kitty, demurely.
“You’re not, are you?” said Rob, so quickly that Kitty blushed.
“No, I’m not,” she declared. “He’s a stunning-looking man, and that superior, impassive way of his catches some women, but I don’t care for it. I prefer a more enthusiastic temperament.”
“Like mine,” said Rob casually.
“Have you a temperament?” said Kitty saucily. “It isn’t at all noticeable.”
“It will be, after you know me better. But Miss French, since you’ve raised this question of Miss Dupuy’s evidence, let me tell you what it means to me. Or, rather, what it seems to point to, for it’s all too vague for us to draw any real conclusions. But, as a first impression, my suspicion turns toward Miss Dupuy herself rather than Carleton.”
“Cicely! You don’t mean she killed Maddy! Oh, how can you?”
“Now, don’t fly into hysterics yourself. Wait a minute. I haven’t accused her at all. But look at it. Miss Van Norman was certainly killed by Carleton, or by some one already in the house. It has been proved that nobody outside could get in. Now if the criminal is some one in the house, we must consider each one in turn. And if by chance we consider Miss Dupuy first, we must admit a motive.”
“What motive?”