"I am so sorry," she said. "But it brought it all back—so dreadfully—so terribly! Oh, I shall never forget it—never! Miss McCall, my smelling-salts, again, please.... Thank you. Mr. Deland, you have still—much more to proceed with?"
He nodded.
"A good deal, I'm afraid. In the first place, I must tell you that we have discovered one of the weapons—the stiletto which stabbed your husband, Lady Paula. There remains but the air-pistol—and that will not be a difficult matter, either, I imagine." He looked significantly at Ross, whose face went suddenly scarlet.
"I say—if you dare to accuse—me...."
"Not so fast, my friend; I'm accusing nobody," returned Cleek serenely, "and too much protestation often hides a guilty conscience. Please say nothing until you are questioned. It is the safest way. First—the stiletto."
He drew it from his pocket and held it aloft where they could all see it, the sunshine fighting upon its fine blade and turning it into a narrow ribbon of brilliancy.
"Can any one claim this, please?"
There was an instant's hush of amazement as all looked at the thing, as of the stillness before the storm, and then Maud Duggan hurried forward and seized it in her two hands.
"It is my stepmother's!" she exclaimed emphatically, and at the sound of her voice Lady Paula sprang to her feet, instantly upon the defence, and her faintness forgotten in this exciting moment.
"Mine—mine! Oh, of course it is mine!" she shrilled like a veritable harpy. "Every one of you would like to accuse me of this terrible crime, I suppose. Mine?—yes, it is mine. But who had it last, I ask you? That is another question to answer. Who but yourself, Maud?"