“It seemed a joke then,” she went on. “I didn’t think at first that Natalie could misunderstand, and then--well, I was annoyed with her and I let it go on. It was a form of ‘getting even.’ I even tried to frighten her once or twice. One night I stole her flashlight; she saw my hand and was frightened, I think, for she called. When I began to care more for you, Natalie,” she continued in a different tone, and speaking directly to me, “I was sorry, but--somehow--I couldn’t say so. And because you’d stopped telling of things that occurred to bother you, I thought you weren’t frightened any more. I know it was contemptible. I hope you can forgive me.”
Of course I said I did and I cared a lot for her and that it didn’t matter.
“Didn’t you know your cousin’s writing?” asked one of the men. I shook my head.
“Perhaps it looked different in pencil,” I explained, “and I suppose I never had even noticed it in ink. Then I was so sure those notes came from Madam Jumel. Her initials and Evelyn’s are the same and----” Then I paused, but they made me go on, and I had to tell of our family misfortunes which had, to some minds, been twisted about that bracelet.
Then Amy, who had had to be silent, and who had seen how gentle Herbert had been with Evelyn after her confession, put in. I like Amy most of the time, and we are good friends, but I knew she made her confession hoping that she would be thought noble and so that she would be noticed.
“I stole those violets,” she said, standing up. “I myself, under the lure of an orchid and a wish to snub some of my most intimate friends, put those stockings in the box that went back to Herbert!” Then she glared up at the ceiling and clasped her hands. It was a pose she got from Nazimova, but it didn’t look the way it did under Nazimova’s touch.
Aunt Penelope snapped at her so hard that I felt sorry for her. “You were a little sneak,” she said, “to let all of us punish your cousin for weeks for something that you did. Sit down and be quiet or leave the room.”
“I only ask for forgiveness,” Amy went on sadly, “and that will bring me peace. How could I know, when I inserted those worn-out yellow socks of Evelyn’s, that I was to wreck the happiness of a care-free, girlish heart?”
The detectives laughed, but S. K. glared at her, and he muttered something about hoping people wouldn’t believe everything they heard hereafter!
“Am I forgiven?” asked Amy. She made her voice tremble beautifully. She had learned to from those singing lesson records that you can buy now.