“The paper has printed lies!” Kitty’s foot came down with an unmistakable stamp, and her eyes sparkled with wrath. “I tell you Aunt Susan did not commit suicide.”
“Yes, dear.” Nina stepped hastily forward and threw her arm protectingly across Kitty’s shoulder. “Come and sit down, and when you are more composed you can tell us of—of the details.” Exerting some strength, she pulled the unwilling girl to the lounge and gently pushed her down upon it. “I am so, so sorry, Kitty. Your aunt—” she stumbled a bit in her speech—“Your aunt’s death is a great shock—”
“To me,” bitterly. “I know many people disliked her. Poor Aunt Susan—” Kitty’s lips trembled. “You need not try to dissemble your feelings, Ben. I know you hated Susan.”
“Oh, come, Kitty; that’s pretty strong language!” Potter flushed angrily. “You are unstrung—where are your smelling salts, Nina?”
“A glass of wine would be better.” Rodgers spoke for the first time, and Kitty looked up in startled surprise. She had been conscious of a third person in the room when she first entered, but, absorbed in her talk with her cousin, had forgotten his presence.
“Where’s my flask?” demanded Potter, considerably shaken out of his habitual calm. “Oh, thank you, my dear,” as Nina snatched it out of one of his desk drawers. “Now, Kitty,” unscrewing the stopper and pouring some cognac into an empty tumbler, which, with a water carafe, stood on his desk. “Drink this; no, I insist—” as she put up her hand in protest. “You will need all your strength—drink every drop.”
Kitty’s eyes sought Rodgers and his quick “Please do” did more to make her drink the cognac than all Potter’s urging. The fiery strength of the old brandy made her catch her breath, but she did not put the tumbler down until she had swallowed its contents. As the stimulant crept through her veins, her head cleared, and the feeling of deadly faintness which had threatened to overcome her several times on her way to her cousin’s apartment, disappeared.
“I will tell you what I know,” she began. “Aunt Susan was found by the police dead in our library. The coroner claims that she had taken poison.”
“Well?” prompted Potter. “Go on.”