“And placed it in the rack at Mrs. Dane’s?” Sperry was watching her intently, with the same sort of grim intentness he wears when examining a chest.
“I put it in the closet in my room. I meant to get rid of it, when I had a little time. I don’t know how it got downstairs, but I think—”
“Yes?”
“We are house-cleaning. A housemaid was washing closets. I suppose she found it and, thinking it was one of Mrs. Dane’s, took it downstairs. That is, unless—” It was clear that, like Elinor, she had a supernatural explanation in her mind. She looked gaunt and haggard.
“Mr. Ellingham was anxious to get it,” she finished. “He had taken Mr. Johnson’s overcoat by mistake one night when you were both in the house, and the notes were in it. He saw that the stick was important.”
“Clara,” Sperry asked, “did you see, the day you advertised for your bag, another similar advertisement?”
“I saw it. It frightened me.”
“You have no idea who inserted it?”
“None whatever.”
“Did you ever see Miss Jeremy before the first sitting? Or hear of her?”