“Why, of course she couldn’t!” exclaimed Kitty. “And I’m truly glad, for I can’t help liking that girl, if she is queer. But, then, who did do it?”
Suspicion was again at a standstill. There was no evidence to point anywhere; there were no clues to follow, and no one had any suggestion to offer.
It was at this juncture that Tom Willard and Schuyler Carleton came in together.
They were told of Fessenden’s interview with Miss Dupuy at the station, and Carleton expressed himself as thoroughly glad that the girl was exonerated. He said little, however, for it was a delicate subject, since it all hinged on Miss Dupuy’s affection for himself.
Tom Willard listened to Fessenden’s recital, but he only said that nothing would ever have induced him to suspect Miss Dupuy, any way, for it could not have been the deed of a fragile young girl.
“The blow that killed Maddy was powerfully dealt,” said Tom; “and I can’t help thinking it was some tramp or professional burglar who was clever enough to elude Harris’s fastenings. Or some window may have been overlooked that night. At any rate, we have no more plausible theory.”
“We have not,” said Mr. Fairbanks; “but I for one am not content to let the matter rest here. I should like to suggest that we call in some celebrated detective, whose experience and skill would discover what is beyond the powers of Mr. Fessenden and myself.”
Rob felt flattered that Mr. Fairbanks classed him with himself, and felt anxious too that the suggestion of employing a more skilful detective should be carried out.
“But,” objected Coroner Benson, “to engage a detective of high standing would entail considerable expense, and I’m not sure that I’m authorized to sanction this.”
There was a silence, but nearly every one in the room was thinking that surely this was the time for Tom Willard to make use of his lately inherited Van Norman money.