"Now, Auntie, have a little heart for poor Mrs. Schuyler, and those old lady sisters. Also for the man himself—"
"Oh, I have, Chet. I'm not inhuman. But those things are in the papers every day, and while one feels a general sympathy, it can't be personal if one doesn't know the people. But, for you to be mixed up in such matters—"
"I wasn't mixed up in it, Aunt Lucy, except as I chose to mix myself. And I've no doubt I should have gotten into it anyway. Mr. Bradbury will have a lot to do with it, I'm sure. I'm no better than he to mix in."
"In a business way, yes. But you were there socially—where a murder was committed—"
Aunt Lucy could have shown no more horror of it all, if I had been the convicted criminal.
"And, I'm glad I was!" I cried, losing patience a little. "If I can be of any help to the Schuyler people or to Miss Van Allen, I shall be willing to do all I can.
"But Miss Van Allen is the—the murderer!" and Aunt Lucy whispered the word.
"Don't say that!" I cried sharply. "You don't know it at all, and there's no reason to condemn the girl—"
I paused. Bemis was taking in my every word with a canny understanding of what I said, and also of what I didn't say.
"Where do your suspicions tend, Mr. Calhoun?" he said smoothly.