With an important air the spinster entered the room.
Holding herself very erect and even drawing aside her skirts as she passed Miss Austin, she took a seat on the other side of the room.
“Now, Miss Bascom,” Cray began at once, “what made you think of looking in this lady’s bureau drawer for that money?”
“I didn’t look for it, Mr. Cray. I merely felt that she had done wrong and I thought perhaps some evidence would be hidden away in her room. And a top drawer is the place a woman oftenest hides things.”
Cray gave a short laugh. “Rather clever of you, I admit. But Miss Austin says she did not put that money there, herself—that it was a plant.”
“A plant?” Miss Bascom looked puzzled at the word.
“Yes; she thinks some in-disposed person put it there to implicate her, falsely.”
“Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Cray, let her say who did it, and who could have got that money to do it with.”
The hard old face took on a look that was almost malignant in its accusation, and little Anita Austin gave a low cry as she saw it, and hid her face in her hands.
“Take her away,” she moaned, “oh, take that woman away.”