“You toss it down, so,” demonstrating, “when I bring it to you, sir,” he explained. “You say, ‘Moto, don’t trouble me, go away,’ and I go.”
“Well, well, Moto, you interrupted me.” Potter’s tone was apologetic. “Much obliged for finding the paper. That is all I wanted.” And Moto slipped away to his pantry in time to hear the buzzer of the front door bell sounding faintly.
Forgetful of all but the paper in his hand, Potter turned it over and searched for the item of news.
“Try the first page,” suggested Rodgers. Potter switched the sheet around and gave vent to a startled exclamation as his eyes fell on the double column heading:
ELDERLY SPINSTER FOUND DEAD
SUICIDE SUSPECTED
“Suicide!” Potter gasped. “Bless my soul! Who would have believed Cousin Susan would kill herself?”
“She didn’t!” The denial rang out clearly from the direction of the door and wheeling around the three occupants of the room saw Kitty Baird confronting them. “Aunt Susan did not commit suicide, Ben; you know she didn’t.”
Potter stared at her long and earnestly. Twice he opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, after a look at Ted Rodgers who, upon Kitty’s entrance, had stopped somewhat in the background so that his face was in shadow.
“I don’t know anything,” Potter said finally. “I haven’t read the paper—”