“Come home with me, my boy,” he said, and his tone gave Joe some ray of comfort. “I need you,” and shoulder to shoulder, father and son stepped from the room. Without speaking to the Fordyces, Pauline followed her father and brother out into the hall.
Potter slipped his arm inside Calderon Fordyce’s. “Let us see them off the premises,” he suggested, and paused only long enough to carefully close the hall door behind them.
Left by themselves Duncan walked swiftly over to Marjorie. He had not seen her alone since his long-distance proposal at the dinner table. At his approach Marjorie faltered and drew back, embarrassment tinging her white cheeks a delicate pink. Desperately she controlled an impulse to turn and fly; then as she met the yearning tenderness of his regard she half conquered her shyness and her hand stole toward him in pleading surrender. Intuitive knowledge guided Duncan as he laid his cheek against her soft palm; she had been sorely tried that day, her composure was at the breaking point.
“What have you there?” he asked gently, pointing to a long envelope which Marjorie clutched in one nervous hand.
“I don’t know,” she steadied her voice with an effort, and handed him the envelope. “My name is written over your house address in the upper left-hand corner, and it is addressed to Admiral Lawrence. I found the envelope in the pocket of my sweater which was lying on the floor behind this door leading to your mother’s private staircase. I have no idea how it got there.”
“We’ve had enough mysteries.” Duncan thrust an impatient finger under the flap of the envelope and tore it open; then drew out a folded typewritten sheet and glanced hastily over it. “Jove! it’s the signed codicil to Mrs. Lawrence’s will. I thought I had solved that mystery.”
His surprise was reflected in Marjorie’s face. “I know nothing about it,” she protested hotly. “I did not address this envelope to Admiral Lawrence, nor write my name in the corner....”
“But the person who stole the codicil inscribed it for you,” exclaimed Duncan triumphantly. “And also made free with your sweater. What else is in the pockets?” thrusting his hand inside them. From the last one he pulled out a piece of white linen. “Why, it’s a nurse’s cap, and the initials ‘K. A.’ are stamped inside it——” turning the cap over in his hand.
“Kathryn Allen!” exclaimed Marjorie. “She was Mrs. Lawrence’s nurse, and was desperately in love with Chichester Barnard....”
“Ah, that is the key to the riddle. She stole the codicil after you left that afternoon; it was lying conveniently to her hand on the desk where Alvord had left it. She undoubtedly hoped that Barnard would marry her and they would inherit Mrs. Lawrence’s legacy.”