"The thief."
"She is not." I turned on my heel and flung open the door. Miss Destiny leaped to my side.
"What are you going to do?"
"I intend to see Miss Monk, and ask her to disprove your accusations."
"She can't; she daren't."
"We shall see," I snapped, and left the house, while Miss Destiny jeered and made mouths after me like a wicked foul old witch.
[CHAPTER XII.]
GERTRUDE'S DEFENCE
As may be guessed, I passed a very perturbed four and twenty hours until my arranged interview with Miss Monk. Miss Destiny had not seen the glass eye in the drawing-room, and so far could prove nothing against her niece. I believe that, so far, she was speaking the truth, as if she had seen the eye, she would have only been too pleased to adduce its presence as a proof of Gertrude's guilt. But, as things were, what she knew was damning enough. She could swear to the girl's presence at Mootley on the evening of the murder, and to the ownership of the white cloak, worn by the lady who had stolen my motor car. Fortunately, from sheer shame, since Miss Monk was her niece, Miss Destiny promised to hold her tongue.
In the face of what the old woman had said and that I already knew, it seemed certain that Gertrude was guilty. Miss Destiny could even declare that her niece had possessed certain blue glass-headed hat-pins, with one of which the crime had been committed. Then again Gertrude wished to get the money, which, after all, was rightfully her own. It seemed probable--on the face of it--that while waiting with Anne Caldershaw for Miss Destiny's arrival, she had tried to learn what the ex-housekeeper knew as to the whereabouts of the money. Anne may have boasted that the secret was locked up in her glass eye, and then--well, I shuddered to think of what took place. Nine people out of ten would have pronounced Gertrude guilty with the greatest promptitude: but I happened to be the tenth, and I hesitated to give an opinion. But then I was in love, and my decision was biassed.