Kitty’s eyes widened. “The circumstances of her death,” she repeated slowly, and paused as if seeking a word, “were they not—natural?”
“No, Miss Baird, they were not,” broke in Inspector Mitchell, anxious to have the floor. “We found your aunt dead in this library about two hours ago. Dr. McLean examined her body; he can tell you from what she died.”
Kitty looked in mute question at McLean while her trembling hands plucked aimlessly at her damp handkerchief. The surgeon impulsively put his arm about her shoulder before speaking.
“Your aunt died from a dose of poison,” he stated slowly.
“Poison!” Kitty reeled and but for McLean’s strong arm would have fallen. Dumbly, she stared at the three men. “Aunt Susan poisoned! By whom?”
“We do not know that—yet,” replied Mitchell, and the tone of his voice chilled Kitty. It was some seconds before she could speak.
“What poisoned her?” she asked.
“The exact nature of the poison will be determined by the autopsy,” broke in McLean. “The coroner’s examination of the body and mine were superficial, but it did establish the fact that your aunt had swallowed poison.” He caught the terror which flashed into Kitty’s eyes, and added impulsively, “Miss Baird, in a moment of insanity, may have committed suicide.”
“There you go again, Doctor.” Mitchell laughed shortly. “Now, Miss Baird, where did you spend last night?”
“With my cousin, Nina Potter, and her husband, at their apartment in Sixteenth Street,” Kitty spoke mechanically. Turning about she walked stiffly over to a chair and sank into it. She wondered if her companions were aware of her trembling knees.