“I never thought of that, because I have assumed that Pauline put that glove in her hand after—after it was all over, to implicate the Count. And, any way, that’s only that one remark,—or two. To what inanimate object was she talking when she said ‘To-morrow all these jewels may be yours’?”
“That I cannot answer. That whole conversation is most mysterious.”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Stone, under any other hypothesis than that of the presence of Pauline Stuart in her aunt’s room at the time!”
“May I come in?” and Gray Haviland’s good-natured face appeared, as he knocked and opened the door almost simultaneously.
“Yes,” said Stone, “and I will ask you, Miss Frayne, to leave us. I am getting to work in earnest now, and I want to push things a little.”
Stone watched the effect of this speech on Anita and was not surprised to see her look at him with startled eyes, as she unwillingly went through the door he held open for her.
“What’s doing?” asked Haviland, in his breezy way; and Stone replied, frankly: “Lots. Those two girls are sworn foes, aren’t they?”
“Of late they have seemed to be. The break came a month or more before Miss Carrington died. Two beauties never can remain friends.”
“They are both beautiful women,” agreed Stone. “Which do you think had a hand in the tragedy?”
“Good Lord! Neither of them! What are you talking about? That Count man is responsible for the whole thing, Bates and all.”