“Why did you not tell before that you wrote this paper supposed to have been written by Miss Van Norman?”
“Nobody asked me.” Miss Dupuy’s tone was defiant and even pert. Robert Fessenden began to look at the girl with increasing interest. He felt quite sure that she knew more about the tragedy than he had suspected. His detective instinct became immediately alert, and he glanced significantly at Kitty French.
She was breathlessly watching Cicely, but nothing could be learned from the girl’s inscrutable face, and to an attentive listener her very voice did not ring true.
Doctor Leonard and Doctor Hills looked at each other. Both remembered that the night before, Cicely had stealthily opened the door of the library and put her head in, but seeing them, had quickly gone back again.
This information might or might not be of importance, but after a brief whispered conference, the two men concluded that it was not the time then to refer to it.
Mr. Carleton, though still pale and haggard of face, seemed to have taken on new interest, and listened attentively to the conversation, while big, good-natured Tom Willard leaned forward and took the paper, and then sat studying it, with a perplexed expression.
“But why did you not volunteer the information? You must have known it was of great importance.” The coroner spoke almost petulantly, and indeed Miss Dupuy had suppressed important information.
At his question she became greatly embarrassed. She blushed and looked down, and then, with an effort resuming her air of defiance, she snapped out her answer: “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid that they would think somebody killed Miss Van Norman, instead of that she killed herself, as she did.”