“Then this money which your aunt left to you couldn’t have been given to her by Colonel Holt in his lifetime?” asked Mitchell.
“Good gracious, no.” Kitty’s astonishment was plain. “Aunt Susan’s prejudices were stronger even than her—”
“Love of money?”
Kitty flushed hotly. “I do not care to have slurs cast upon my aunt,” she said coldly. “She is not here to defend herself.”
“Hold on, Miss Baird,” Mitchell protested. “You must realize that your aunt hoarded this wealth which you inherited; otherwise she would have spoken to you or to some one about it. She—” Mitchell came to a full pause, then added impressively: “Your aunt was a miser.”
Kitty’s color deepened, but the denial which loyalty prompted remained unspoken. Her sense of justice told her that Inspector Mitchell had spoken truly. What other motive, except love of money, had induced her aunt to live in poverty when she had ample funds to enable her to enjoy every luxury which money could buy?
“Am I to conclude from your questions,” she began, “that you connect my aunt’s hidden wealth with her murder?”
“It seems a reasonable hypothesis,” he replied. “Take the known facts about the murder—first, your aunt was alone in the house on Sunday afternoon—”
“Was she?”