“I do know it.”
“Yes, I know that has been your firm conviction all along, though it isn’t mine. But don’t tell him it isn’t mine; just tell him of your own confidence and sympathy and faith in him, and see what happens.”
“A woman’s intuitions are always ahead of a man’s,” declared Rob heartily. “I’ll do just as you say, Kitty, and I’ll do it whole-heartedly, and to the best of my ability.”
Kitty was still staying in the Van Norman house, which had not yet been, and probably would not soon be, known by any other name.
Mrs. Markham had gone away temporarily, though it was believed that when she returned it would be merely to arrange for her permanent departure. The good lady had received a generous bequest in Madeleine’s will, and, except for the severing of old associations, she had no desire to remain in a house no longer the home of the Van Normans.
Miss Morton was therefore mistress of the establishment, and thoroughly did she enjoy her position. She invited Miss French to remain for a time as her visitor, and Kitty had stayed on, in hope of learning the truth about the tragedy.
At Miss Morton’s invitation Tom Willard had left the hotel and returned to his old room, which he had given up to Miss Morton herself at Madeleine’s request.
Willard without doubt sorrowed deeply for his beautiful cousin, but he was a man who rarely gave voice to his grief, and his feelings were evident more from his manner than his words. He seemed preoccupied and absent-minded, and, quite unlike Miss Morton, he was in no haste to take even preliminary steps toward the actual acquisition of his fortune.
Fessenden was curious to know whether Willard suspected that his cousin’s death was the work of Schuyler Carleton. But when he tried to sound Tom on the subject he was met by a rebuff. It was politely worded, but it was nevertheless a plain-spoken rebuff, and conclusively forbade further discussion of the subject.
And so as an outcome of Kitty’s suggestion, Fessenden determined to have a plain talk with Schuyler Carleton.