"Such as----?"
"I shall tell you, so that you may see I place myself entirely in your hands, Mr. Vance. Aunt Julia declared that I was at Mootley on the evening of the murder; that the hat-pin with which Anne was stabbed belonged to me; and that she saw my white cloak on the lady who drove the motor car, whom she believed to be myself escaping. She threatened to tell the police all these things unless I gave her half of the fifty thousand pounds. As if I could--as if I could!" wailed Gertrude, dropping into her seat. "I do not know where it is."
"Why not learn from the glass eye?"
She looked up astonished. "I have not got the glass eye."
I stared in my turn. "Listen, Miss Monk. In the face of what you have told me, and of what your aunt has said, I believe that you are innocent."
"Thank God for that," she muttered. "I could not have endured an accusation from you."
On hearing this it was with the greatest difficulty that I prevented myself from taking her in my arms to kiss away the tears. But there was much to be cleared up before I could do that, as I wished her to understand my entire belief in her innocence. "But," I went on with emphasis, "while I know that your account of the interview with Mrs. Caldershaw is correct, I ask you to trust me--as I am your firm friend--fully."
"I have trusted you fully," she said plaintively.
"What about the glass eye? Are you sure that Mrs. Caldershaw did not allow you to carry it away when you left by the back door to escape meeting this mysterious person you speak of."
"I am quite sure," said Gertrude, rising with great dignity, "that Mrs. Caldershaw's glass eye was in her head when I ran from her house. I was in such a hurry to escape meeting the person I mentioned that I left my cloak behind me, and also one of the blue glass-headed pins which fastened my hat. I can guess what happened. The assassin killed Anne with the hat-pin, stole the glass eye, and then assumed my cloak to escape, and perhaps," she added, with an afterthought, "to throw the blame of the crime on me."