"It was lying there and I picked it up.I don't see any harm in that.""You probably meant none.You couldn't have known the part it had just played in this tragic drama,"said the old detective looking carefully at the cutter which he had taken in his hand,but not so carefully that he failed to note that the look of distress was not lifted from the mother's face either by her daughter's words or manner.
"You have washed this?"he asked.
"No.Why should I wash it?It was clean enough.I was just going down to give it in at the desk.I wasn't going to carry it away."And she turned aside to the window and began to hum,as though done with the whole matter.
The old detective rubbed his chin,glanced again at the paper-cutter,then at the girl in the window,and lastly at the mother,who had lifted her head again and was facing him bravely.
"It is very important,"he observed to the latter,"that your daughter should be correct in her statement as to the condition of this article when she picked it up.Are you sure she did not wash it?""I don't think she did.But I'm sure she will tell you the truth about that.Caroline,this is a police matter.Any mistake about it may involve us in a world of trouble and keep you from getting back home in time for your coming-out party.Did you -did you wash this cutter when you got upstairs,or -or -"she added,with a propitiatory glance at Mr.Gryce -wipe it off at any time between then and now?Don't answer hastily.Be sure.No one can blame you for that act.Any girl,as thoughtless as you,might do that.""Mother,how can I tell what I did?"flashed out the girl,wheeling round on her heel till she faced them both."I don't remember doing a thing to it.I just brought it up.A thing found like that belongs to the finder.You needn't hold it out towards me like that.
I don't want it now;I'm sick of it.Such a lot of talk about a paltry thing which couldn't have cost ten dollars."And she wheeled back.
"It isn't the value."Mr.Gryce could be very patient."It's the fact that we believe it to have been answerable for Miss Challoner's death -that is,if there was any blood on it when you picked it up.""Blood!"The girl was facing them again,astonishment struggling with disgust on her plain but mobile features."Blood!is that what you mean.No wonder I hate it.Take it away,"she cried.
"Oh,mother,I'll never pick up anything again which doesn't belong to me!Blood!"she repeated in horror,flinging herself into her mother's arms.
Mr.Gryce thought he understood the situation.Here was a little kleptomaniac whose weakness the mother was struggling to hide.
Light was pouring in.He felt his body's weight less on that miserable foot of his.
"Does that frighten you?Are you so affected by the thought of blood?""Don't ask me.And I put the thing under my pillow!I thought it was so -so pretty.""Mrs.Watkins,"Mr.Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter,"did you see it there?""Yes;but I didn't know where it came from.I had not seen my daughter stoop.I didn't know where she got it till I read that bulletin.""Never mind that.The question agitating me is whether any stain was left under that pillow.We want to be sure of the connection between this possible weapon and the death by stabbing which we all deplore -if there is a connection.""I didn't see any stain,but you can look for yourself.The bed has been made up,but there was no change of linen.We expected to remain here;I see no good to be gained by hiding any of the facts now.""None whatever,Madam."
"Come,then.Caroline,sit down and stop crying.Mr.Gryce believes that your only fault was in not taking this object at once to the desk.""Yes,that's all,"acquiesced the detective after a short study of the shaking figure and distorted features of the girl."You had no idea,I'm sure,where this weapon came from,or for what it had been used.That's evident."Her shudder,as she seated herself,was very convincing.She was too young to simulate so successfully emotions of this character.
"I'm glad of that,"she responded,half fretfully,half gratefully,as Mr.Gryce followed her mother into the adjoining room."I've had a bad enough time of it without being blamed for what I didn't know and didn't do."Mr.Gryce laid little stress upon these words,but much upon the lack of curiosity she showed in the minute and careful examination he now made of her room.There was no stain on the pillow-cover and none on the bureau-spread where she might very naturally have laid the cutter down on first coming into her room.The blade was so polished that it must have been rubbed off somewhere,either purposely or by accident.Where then,since not here?He asked to see her gloves -the ones she had worn the previous night.
"They are the same she is wearing now,"the anxious mother assured him."Wait,and I will get them for you.""No need.Let her hold out her hands in token of amity.I shall soon see."They returned to where the girl still sat,wrapped in her cloak,sobbing still,but not so violently.
"Caroline,you may take off your things,"said the mother,drawing the pins from her own hat."We shall not go to-day."The child shot her mother one disappointed look,then proceeded to follow suit.When her hat was off,she began to take off her gloves.
As soon as they were on the table,the mother pushed them over to Mr.
Gryce.As he looked at them,the girl lifted off her cloak.
"Will -will he tell?"she whispered behind its ample folds into her mother's ear.
The answer came quickly,but not in the mother's tones.Mr.Gryce's ears had lost none of their ancient acuteness.
