"And afterward did you find any trace of papers' having been stolen?
Drawers opened, or anything?"
"I never looked to see." Foster sat back in bitter disappointment. "All I thought about was breaking the news of Winslow's condition to Minna and Kathleen, and getting a doctor. Henry attended to that; and I went downstairs, awoke Minna," she hesitated perceptibly, "Kathleen I found sitting in her bedroom—dressed."
"What!" Foster shot her a swift glance. "Asleep?"
"No. Just sitting there, apparently too dazed to realize my presence, let alone what I told her. Finally she grasped the news of her father's illness, and her grief was bitter."
"Poor girl!"
Miss Kiametia fingered her gown nervously. "You were in Baltimore when the newspapers published Spencer's will, and this afternoon Dr. McLane interrupted us," she began. "Is it really true that Sinclair Spencer left Kathleen a small fortune?"
"Yes. On investigation, I find he held valuable stock, as well as improved real estate of known value."
"Sinclair Spencer was a bad egg," said Miss Kiametia slowly. "It would have been like him to boast of his wealth to Kathleen, and by its power seek to influence her to accept him."
"A man will do anything to win the woman he loves," said Foster, with a sidelong look of affection utterly lost on the spinster, who sat deep in thought.
"A large legacy," she commented aloud. "It establishes a motive which I thought lacking before."