"Surely you would not have me charge your husband—your father-in-law, with murder!"
"I strongly suspect the latter from the perturbed air manifested by him when I once hinted at my knowledge of the crime."
"The grave and dignified earl the author of such a deed! Impossible!"
"Not more impossible than that my own father should be a murderer!"
Idris started at her bitter tone. Truly the Fates had dealt hardly with her in the matter of kinsfolk. Those ladies of Ormsby who were disposed to envy Mademoiselle Rivière her new rank would have had little cause for envy could they have seen into her mind at that moment.
"I have found," continued Lorelie, "the very instrument with which the deed was wrought. It is here."
As she spoke she produced a jewelled hat-pin shaped like a stiletto, the steel blade being broken off short at the hilt.
"This belonged to the late Countess of Ormsby, in whose jewel-case it has lain for over twenty years: at least, so the old housekeeper declares. The blade was broken a short time before the death of the countess, and has never been repaired."
"Does the housekeeper give any account of how the steel came to be broken?"
"She tells a very significant story. The countess lost this stiletto when walking in the park one day. On discovering her loss she immediately set the servants to look for it, but their search was unavailing. Next morning, however, the earl returned the hat-pin to the countess, saying that while taking a walk by moonlight he had found it in its broken condition.