“Except one—” broke in Rodgers, glancing proudly at Kitty.
“Perhaps so,” agreed Craige cheerily. “And when is the engagement to be announced?”
“Oh, don’t say a word about it, please,” Kitty begged; then, with a quick shy glance at Rodgers, “We must keep the secret until the mystery surrounding Aunt Susan’s death is solved.”
“It makes a double incentive to clear up the case,” declared Rodgers. “Come, Kitty, sit by the fire and I’ll explain to Craige the errand which brought us to see him to-night.”
Obediently, Kitty curled herself up on the big sofa which stood facing the huge open fireplace. Her unhappy restlessness had deserted her. In its stead a feeling of peace, of renewed courage and unutterable happiness encompassed her, and she was content to sit idly by and watch the two men. As they stood with their backs to the fire, she was struck by their distinguished appearance. Craige, with his iron-grey hair and dark moustache, was the handsomer of the two, but Kitty decided that Rodgers’ more rugged features, offset by the deep dimple, almost a cleft in his chin, indicated the more determined character. His dark hair was inclined to curl, in spite of every effort on his part to keep it straight, and Kitty liked its wavy appearance better than the severe style which Craige preferred. As Craige held a match to Rodgers’ cigar she was surprised by their similarity in height. Had any one asked her she would have said that Rodgers was the heavier and the taller by a quarter of an inch.
“This afternoon,” Rodgers had waited to commence his explanation of their call until his cigar was drawing nicely. “Kitty overheard an unknown woman bribe Oscar to steal some papers which had belonged to her aunt, Miss Susan Baird.”
“That is interesting,” Craige pulled his mustache thoughtfully. “You say the woman was unknown. Describe her appearance, Kitty.”
“I can’t, for I did not see her,” she explained. “The woman had gone when I looked into the garden, and Oscar with her.”
“Then you haven’t questioned Oscar?”