DOROTHY BURT
The people rose slowly from their chairs, and most of them looked as if they did not quite comprehend what it all meant. Among these was Carleton himself. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was—at least tacitly—an accused man, and stood quietly, as if awaiting any further developments that might come.
“Look at Schuyler,” said Kitty French to Fessenden. The two had withdrawn to a quiet corner to discuss the affair. But Kitty was doing most of the talking, while Fessenden was quiet and seemed preoccupied. “Of course I suppose he must have killed Madeleine,” went on Kitty, “but it’s so hard to believe it, after all. I’ve tried to think of a reason for it, and this is the only one I can think of. They quarrelled yesterday afternoon, and he went away in a huff. I believe he came back last night to make it up with her, and then they quarrelled again and he stabbed her.”
Fessenden looked at her thoughtfully. “I think that Hunt man testified accurately,” he said. “And if so, Carleton was in the house just fifteen minutes before he gave the alarm. Now, fifteen minutes is an awfully short time to quarrel with anybody so desperately that it leads to a murder.”
“That’s true; but they both have very quick tempers. At least Madeleine had. She didn’t often do it, but when she did fly into a fury it was as quick as a flash. I’ve never seen Mr. Carleton angry, but I know he can be, for Maddy told me so.”
“Still, a quarter of an hour is too short a time for a fatal quarrel, I think. If Carleton killed her he came here for that purpose, and it was done premeditatedly.”
“Why do you say ‘if he killed her’? It’s been proved she didn’t kill herself; it’s been proved that no one could enter the house without a latch-key, and it’s been proved that the deed was done in that one hour between half-past ten and half-past eleven. So it had to be Mr. Carleton.”
“Miss French, you have a logical mind, and I think you’d make a clever little detective. But you have overlooked the possibility that she was killed by some one in the house.”
“Some of us?” Kitty’s look of amazement almost made Fessenden smile.
“Not you or Miss Gardner,” he said. “But a burglar might have been concealed in the house.”