Dr. Rane's brow lost its perplexity: an easy smile, as if the mystery were solved, crossed his face. The hint recently given him by Mr. Alexander was in his mind.
"I'm glad you've told me this, Mrs. Gass. The paper was more likely to have been left by Molly Green than by me. It may have dropped from her petticoats."
"Goodness bless the man! From her petticoats! Why, she had run all the way from the Hall. And how was she likely to pick it up in that house--even though her gown had been finished off with fish-hooks?"
"What cause have I given you to suspect me of this?" retorted Dr. Rane in harsh tones.
"Only this--that I don't see where the paper could have come from but out of your own pocketbook," replied Mrs. Gass frankly. "I have no other reason to suspect you; I'd as soon suspect myself. It is just a mystery, and nothing else."
"Whatever the mystery may be, it is not connected with my pocketbook, Mrs. Gass," he emphatically said. "Did you mention this to Richard North?"
"No. Nor to anybody else. It was not a pleasant thing to speak of, you see."
"Not a pleasant thing for me, certainly, to be suspected of having dropped that paper. The culprit, an innocent one, no doubt, must have been Molly Green."
"I never was so brought up in all my life," cried the puzzled woman. "As to Molly Green--it must be just a fancy of yours, doctor, for it never can be fact."
Oliver Rane drew his chair a little nearer to Mrs. Gass, and whispered a word of the doubt touching Mrs. North. He only spoke of it as a doubt; a hint at most; but Mrs. Gass was not slow to take it.