“And Mrs. Markham doesn’t think as I do, either,” went on Kitty. “Nobody thinks as I do.”
“I will think as you do,” declared Fessenden, and so potent was the charm of the tearful violet eyes, that he was quite ready to think whatever she dictated. “Only tell me what to think, and what to do about it.”
“Why, I think Madeleine didn’t kill herself at all. I think somebody else killed her.”
“But who would do such a thing? You see, Miss French, I know nothing of the particulars. I saw Miss Van Norman for the first time yesterday.”
“Had you never met her before?”
“Oh, yes; a few years ago. But I mean, I came to Mapleton only yesterday, and saw her in the afternoon. I was to be Schuyler’s best man, you know, and as he didn’t come here to dinner last night, I thought I’d better not come either, though I had been asked. He was a little miffed with Miss Van Norman, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Maddy did flirt with Tom, and it always annoyed Mr. Carleton. Did you dine with him?”
“Yes, at his home. I am staying there. By the way, I met Miss Burt there; do you know her?”
“No, not at all. Who is she?”
“She’s a companion to Mrs. Carleton, Schuyler’s mother. I never saw her until last night at dinner.”