Opal leaned forward and watched the hands of the detective open the packet.
She never took her eyes from the “find,” and when the last bit of covering had been taken off she appeared to grow white.
One-half of a ring lay in Carter’s hand, and he glanced from it to the immobile face of the millionaire’s daughter.
“You found that in the house, I suppose?” asked Opal.
“Yes; in the darkest corner, not far from the spot where you struck the blow.”
“Is that all?”
“Not quite.”
“You need not go on. Look at me, Mr. Carter. It was for the honor of this house. She was wicked.”
“She was your father’s sister!”
“She made a bad match. She was disowned, or, rather, she disinherited herself.”