"I hope not, I hope not," murmured Gertrude anxiously, "it would be such a terrible thing for him to murder his relative. I don't mind Joseph at all if he would only get rid of this crazy affection he has for me. I don't know why he loves me so?"
"Look in the glass, and you'll see," I said, kissing her.
"Oh, nonsense, Cyrus," said Gertrude impatiently, "how can you joke when things are so serious. I am a very ordinary girl, and Joseph is half mad, I really believe. Oh"--she stopped short and looked at me--"that eye."
I saw what she meant. "Yes," I nodded, "that struck me also. Joseph might have been the one who placed it on that drawing-room table to implicate you. In that case--if we can only force him to confess as much--he must be guilty of the murder."
"I hope not--I hope not," she said again shiveringly, "and yet"--then she went off on a new line of thought--"if he placed the eye there, why should he take it away again?"
"He may not have done so. Do you know, Gertrude, I should not be surprised if your Aunt Julia had it. She wanted the eye, as we know, because she desires to handle the money. Apparently she told Joseph of your visit to Mootley, so that he might go there on the same day and anticipate your learning the secret from Mrs. Caldershaw."
"But what would she gain by that?"
"She would be able to make Joseph give her part of the money when he found it," I replied quickly.
"Then you think she anticipated the murder?"
"Not for one moment, my dear. With all her faults, your aunt is not wicked enough to deliberately urge a man to commit murder. But she sent Joseph ahead first, trusting that Mrs. Caldershaw would tell him the secret before you arrived. Then he could return with the cipher and they could understand it together--solve it, that it. But, as things turned out--all this is pure theory mind--Joseph did not show her the eye."