He raised his brows. “Did I say I was looking for something?”
“I know you were.”
“Well, whatever it was I was disappointed,” said Randall. “Someone has been busy.”
“Aunt Harriet turned everything out the day uncle died,” Stella said shortly.
Randall lit a cigarette, and said in a meditative tone: “I often wonder whether Aunt Harriet is the fool she appears to be, or not”
“Good heavens, you don't think she did it to destroy evidence, do you?” exclaimed Stella, unable to believe in such forethought.
“I am quite unable to make up my mind on that point,” Randall replied. “Cast your little feather-weight of a brain backward, my sweet. What did our dear Aunt Harriet take out of uncle's medicine-chest?”
“Oh, I don't know! All sorts of things. Corn-plaster, and iodine, and Eno's Fruit Salts.”
“And uncle's tonic, of course,” said Randall, watching the blue smoke rise up from the end of his cigarette.
“No, that was broken. New bottle, too.”