“Yes. We had no guests,” briefly.
“And what did you do after luncheon?”
“It wasn’t luncheon, it was dinner,” she explained. “I went upstairs almost immediately after it was served, and changed my dress preparatory to going out.”
“When did you last see your aunt alive?” asked Penfield.
“As I was leaving the house,” Kitty spoke more hurriedly, “I looked into her bedroom and called out ‘Good-by!’”
“Miss Baird,” Penfield let his eyeglasses dangle from their ribbon and stood up. “Was your aunt expecting guests at tea on Sunday afternoon?”
“I am sure she was not,” she replied. “Aunt Susan always asked me to arrange the tea table if she had invited any of her friends to come and see her. She was, eh, formal and insisted that her guests be given tea when they called.”
“Was it your aunt’s custom to drink tea every afternoon whether she had guests or not?”
“Oh, yes. She had a spirit lamp and a tea caddy in the library, and made tea for herself,” Kitty responded. “But if any friends were coming she insisted always that the table be especially arranged—sandwiches—and all that,” a trifle vaguely. Kitty was growing tired of answering questions which appeared to lead nowhere.