“It was a clever thought,” exclaimed Rodgers. “But it would have been better had you taken me entirely into your confidence, Oscar.”
“Yessir.” But Oscar looked doubtful. “I was mighty concarned ’bout Miss Kitty, ’deed I was, Sah. It warn’t ’till jes’ a spell back that that detecertif man, Mister Welsh, who tried to find me in Front Royal an’ at las’ found me to home, ’splained to me I had orter be hyar wif yo’, Honey, Miss Kitty, so then I comed round wif him.”
Leigh Wallace heard the old man to the end, then stared moodily across the library. He started for the doorway and turned around.
“I’ve destroyed your letters, Nina,” he said. “I, forgive me, I feared that you had killed Miss Susan Baird on Sunday night. That was why I was so overcome when the crime was discovered. Mr. Potter,” he spoke with deep feeling. “Your wife loves you devotedly. I am but a forgotten incident in her life. I received my orders for foreign service to-day. Good-by.” He clicked his heels together and with a bow which included all in the library, turned and strode from the room.
At sound of the front door closing, Potter stepped forward. He was oblivious of any one’s presence but his wife.
“Nina, can you forgive me?” he asked humbly. “I have acted the part of a jealous fool.”
Nina’s answer was not in words. With a face in which joy obliterated the shadow of the past few days, she slipped her arm within his and he led her from the room.
“Doan yo’ wait hyar, Miss Kitty—” Oscar came forward a pace. “Jes’ you an’ Mister Rodgers go right along. I’ll stay wid dis—” and he nodded significantly at Rodgers. The latter turned to take a last survey of the library. Not far from Cecelia Parsons lay a small furry body—both were rigid in death.
“Come, sweetheart—” Rodgers slipped his arm around Kitty and they walked toward the drawing room. Once there Kitty gave way to the grief consuming her.