“But one razor was missing—” The comment escaped Mrs. Porter unwittingly in the agitation of the moment.
“Hush! Mother, how could you?” Millicent clapped her hand on Mrs. Porter’s mouth and glanced fearfully around, to encounter Mitchell’s eager gaze, and shuddering she looked away.
Wyndham, who had listened to Millicent with tense eagerness, turned with such suddenness that he collided against the large leather bag which Murray was holding, having, in his excitement, forgotten to put it down. The bag, insecurely fastened, burst open and out rolled splints and bandages and a miscellaneous array of surgical instruments and a razor. Wyndham reached for it, but Mitchell jostled him to one side and picked it up.
“The razor is one of the set!” he cried. “Where did you get that bag, Murray?” clutching the footman and giving him a shake. “Answer!”
“From Dr. Thorne’s office, sir,” stammered Murray. “The doctor sent me back to say that Dr. Noyes had shot himself and for the nurses to prepare his room; he also told me to stop at Thornedale to get surgical dressings. The old butler didn’t answer the bell, so I climbed through a window and found this bag sitting in his office. I looked in it and seeing bandages and splints brought it along just as it was.”
Vera looked quickly at Mitchell and his expression gave her the key to his thoughts—good heavens! Would he try to fix the crime upon Beverly Thorne? Could it be that Thorne, like the others, had believed her guilty of Brainard’s murder and had taken the razor from her so that it would not be found in her possession and further incriminate her? If so, he had jeopardized himself to protect her. Her face flamed at the thought.
“I can explain Dr. Thorne’s possession of the razor,” she said clearly. “He got it from me.”
“He did!” Mitchell wheeled on her. “So you admit at last that you had the razors.”
“I admit that I picked up the razor after Millicent dropped it last night,” retorted Vera.
“Millicent!” gasped Mrs. Porter.