“Don’t ring!” exclaimed Kitty. “Both of the servants are out. I have my latch-key to the side door. Don’t wait any longer, Leigh, if you are in a hurry.”
“Sure you can get in?” Kitty nodded an affirmative. Wallace wavered a moment, glanced at the bunch of keys which Kitty produced from her muff, then cast a fleeting look at the walk which skirted the mansion. “Kitty,” he stepped closer to her side, his hands fumbling awkwardly with his hat. “Did you and your aunt really quarrel about me on Sunday?”
Kitty stepped back as if shot. “What an egotistical question?” she stammered, with a brave attempt at a laugh. “On the contrary, Leigh, Aunt Susan and I had words over a matter of no importance; as was our habit. Good-by.”
“Good-by—” Wallace echoed her words mechanically, and, without a further glance at her, ran down the steps.
Kitty watched the taxi and its solitary passenger disappear up Q Street before turning toward the brick walk which circled the house and led to the large garden in the rear. She dreaded entering the house alone. It was a feeling which she had not been able to conquer, and she had, on the few occasions when she had gone out, always arranged to have one of the servants in the house upon her return. Mandy had asked for the afternoon off and Oscar, not being at home when Kitty left to go to Mrs. Parsons, had probably not gotten back in time to be told by Mandy before her departure that he was to await Kitty’s return.
Kitty shook herself. It was not yet four o’clock in the afternoon. It was foolish to give way to nerves. But before turning into the walk, Kitty took one final look down the terraced steps, hoping for a sight of Mandy’s substantial form or old Oscar’s halting walk. Neither was visible. As her glance swept upward, she saw a piece of crumpled paper lying on the step just below her. Stooping over, she picked it up and, observing writing upon it, smoothed out the paper. She had read the few words it bore several times before she took in their meaning.
Leigh, you are watched.
Kitty turned the paper over. It was the one she had seen the waiter at the Shoreham slip surreptitiously into Leigh Wallace’s hand. She recognized the delicate mauve shade of the paper—she also recognized the handwriting. Why had Mrs. Parsons written such a warning to Leigh Wallace?
With her ideas in a whirl Kitty walked slowly around the mansion and to the side door. It gave entrance to the library. There was a perceptible pause before Kitty unlocked the door and entered the house. She had grown to loathe the library.
Mouchette, aroused from her slumber in front of the fireplace, came forward with many “mews” to greet her. Kitty fondled the cat affectionately before laying down her muff and fur piece on the nearest chair. Going over to the chimney, she poked the smoldering embers on the hearth into a feeble blaze and added some kindling wood.