Sure enough, there were two rows of buttons down the back of her bodice, and another row across the sailor collar.
At a nod from Trask she sat down again, and then the storm broke.
“I told you so!” cried Helen Peyton. “That’s the very dress that made the marks on that chair back! Dare you deny, Miss Austin, that you were in Doctor Waring’s study that night he died?”
The dark eyes of Miss Mystery opened wide in horror. She seemed fairly paralyzed with fright, and glanced wildly from one face to another.
Maurice Trask’s showed only frank admiration. He looked at the girl as if he had never before seen any one so attractive.
Gordon Lockwood’s face betrayed no emotion of any sort. Had he been indifferent to Miss Mystery instead of loving her, as he did, he could have shown no less expressive countenance.
And all the others present showed definite and decided suspicion, scorn and hatred.
Except one. Old Salt looked kindly at the agitated girl. He even held out a protective hand, and with a gentle inflection, said:
“Tell the truth, dear child. Did you know Doctor Waring?”
Slowly Miss Mystery’s eyes traveled round the room. Looking at each face in turn, her own expression became more and more hard and stubborn. Then, seeing the kindness on the face of Old Salt, she broke down utterly and sobbed out. “Oh, he’s dead—he’s dead! what shall I do?”