“Why not as well as any one else? And somebody did.”
“Then somebody stole it. Nobody bought it. I’m positive of that, now I’ve learned how impossible it is to make such a purchase. And how could those girls steal it?”
“I don’t know, Hardy, but my point is, why couldn’t they steal it if anybody could? You’re denying their ability to steal the poison, because you don’t want to suspect them. And neither do I, but we must look this thing squarely in the face. Somebody managed to get that aconitine and administer it to Miss Carrington secretly, and it is for us to find out who did it,—who could do it, in the face of almost insuperable obstacles. But it is futile to say this one or that one could or couldn’t do it. Now, since you’ve found no trace of the poison sale, let’s start from some other point. Surely, this case, with its unique circumstances, offers many ways to look for evidence. What strikes me most forcibly is the costume of the lady. Not so much the gown,—I believe she was fond of elaborate boudoir robes,—but the array of jewelry, the glittering scarf and the snake. Most of all, the snake. That, of itself, ought to point directly to the true solution, and I believe it does, only we’re too blind to see it. I’m going to work on that snake clue, and to help, I wish you’d go at once to all the possible shops where it might have been bought. It may not be traceable and then, again, it may. And, the strange fact of her sitting idly before the mirror when she died! Whoever gave her the poison was there on the spot, must have been,—for it’s sure enough that she didn’t take it herself, according to the doctor’s statements. Well, if the murderer was right there with her, and she not only made no outcry but continued to look smiling and happy, it was surely some one she knew and in whom she had all confidence. Perhaps this person urged her to eat the sandwich,—oh, pshaw, that’s all plausible enough,—but, the snake! That’s the bizarre clue that must lead somewhere. And it shall! I’ll ferret out the mystery of that paper snake or my name’s not Stone! Go to it, Hardy! Rake the Japanese shops and department stores, but find out who bought it. It isn’t old. I observed it was fresh and new. Those flimsy paper things show handling mighty quickly. Find out who bought the thing, and we’ve a start in the right direction.”
Hardy went off on his errand and Stone went over to have a talk with Mrs. Frothingham.
The widow was amiable but non-committal. She was highly incensed at the arrest of the Count, but felt confident he would be liberated in a few days. She replied warily to Stone’s questions, but admitted her presence in the house on the fatal evening.
“You see,” she said, in a confidential way, “I was lonely. The Count had gone so often of late to Garden Steps, and I was never invited, that I think I was a little jealous.”
“Of Miss Carrington?” asked Stone, quickly.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Frothingham, frankly; “and of Miss Stuart, and of the Count’s intimacy over there. I had never even been in the house. So I went over there and looked in the windows. I saw them playing cards and later strolling about the rooms. The great door stood a little ajar and I cautiously stepped inside. It was vulgarly curious, but it was no crime. As I stood in the hall I saw some one approaching, and stepped up a few steps of the staircase. It was all so beautiful that I looked at the tapestries and decorations. I remember thinking that if any one challenged me, I should tell the truth, and say that I came in to look, as a neighbor ought to have a right to do.”
“Never mind the ethics of the case, Mrs. Frothingham, stick to facts. Did you go upstairs?”
“No, indeed, only up four or five steps, just to the turn of the staircase.”