 CHAPTERS XIX and XX of the Curved Blades by Caroline Wells. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. XIX. LETTERS FROM THE FUGITIVE. Pauline's flight was deemed by many a confession of guilt. The district attorney declared his intention of cabling a command to hold her for examination at Alexandria. Or, he said, perhaps it would be better to intercept her course at Gibraltar or Naples. The people at Garden Steps paid little attention to these suggestions so absorbed were they in planning for themselves. "'Poor child,' said Haveland, she ran away in sheer panic. You don't know Pauline as we do, Mr. Stone. She is brave in the face of a present or material danger. When a gardener's cottage burned she was a real heroine and saved a tiny baby at risk of her own life. But always a vague fear or an intangible dread throws her into a wild, irresponsible state and she loses her head utterly. Now, I may as well own up that I do think Polly committed this deed. I think that she had stood Aunt Lucy as long as she possibly could and you've no idea what the poor child had to put up with. I think that when Lady Lucy threatened to send Pauline away, homeless and penniless, this panic of fear overcame her and she gave that poison on an impulse. But, interrupted Stone, that would imply her having the poison in readiness. She couldn't procure it at a moment's notice. "'That's so,' agreed Haveland thoughtfully. But even so, it's my belief that that's the way it all happened. How Pauline got this stuff I've no idea, but there's no other explanation that fits the facts. Aunt Lucy's aversion to drugs or medicines could have been overcome by few people, but Pauline could have weedled her into taking it by some misrepresentation of its healing qualities or something like that. It must have been under some such misapprehension that she took it," said Stone, for I'm convinced she took it dissolved in a glass of water and therefore was conscious of the act, though not of the nature of the dose. But couldn't Miss Stewart have given it innocently by mistake as a headache powder or— "'Miss Carrington never had headaches,' returned Anita, and anyway Pauline couldn't make such a mistake. It isn't as if Miss Carrington had a medicine cabinet like other people where drugs might get mixed up.' No, Mr. Stone, there was no mistake. You think Miss Stewart administered the poison purposely to kill her aunt? It would have been a brazen soul indeed that could have spoken falsely under the piercing gleam in Fleming Stone's eyes, then. "'I am forced to think that,' replied Anita quietly, and you know I was present when Miss Carrington denounced Pauline and told her to leave the house the next day. And I also heard Miss Carrington when she said later that half her fortune should not go to a niece who treated her as Pauline did. Would she have used those words in speaking to Miss Stewart?' asked Stone pointedly. Surely she would. Why not? "'Never mind all that, Anita,' said Haveland. Pauline's gone. Run away. And it's up to us to do all we can to help her. If her flight means she's guilty, never mind. We must stand up for her and deny anything that incriminates her. If she did poison Aunt Lucy, we don't want her convicted of it. She'll go straight to Lauria, and he'll look out for her all right. But if we find anybody's going to head her off at Naples or anywhere, we must warn her and help her to thwart their plans.' "'Accessory after the fact,' began Stone. "'Sure,' said Haveland. "'You bet will be accessories after the fact to help Pauline out.' "'Why, Mr. Stone, if she did this thing, the best possible plan for her was to Vamoose just as she did do. Car Lauria can hide her in Egypt so nobody can find her, and after a while.' "'Mr. Haveland,' in Stone's eyes, gleamed. I am surprised at your attitude. How can you so easily take Miss Stewart's guilt for granted?' "'No other way out.' "'Now look here, Mr. Stone. Neither Miss Frayne nor I did this thing. We weren't tied to Miss Carrington's apron strings. We could walk off and leave her if we chose. But Miss Stewart couldn't. Her life was a perfectly good hell on earth. I know all about it, a lot more even than Miss Frayne does. I don't quite say I don't blame Pauline, but I do say I quite understand it. She is an impulsive creature. She'll stand an awful lot and then fly all to pieces at some little thing that sets her nerves on edge. She's clever as the devil, and if she procured that aconite long ago, say, it was an anticipation of some time when she—well, when she just reached the limit. And it happened to come that night. That's all.' "'Wrong, Mr. Haveland. All wrong.' And Stone's face was positively triumphant. I've bound an additional hint in what you've just said, and I'm convinced I'm on the right track. One more question, Miss Frayne, about that conversation you so luckily overheard.' "'Luckily,' said Anita, her great blue eyes showing alarm in their startled gaze. "'Surely? Most fortunate to my mind. Indeed it may well be that that carefully exact memorandum of yours may be the means of clearing Miss Stewart of all suspicion. Now tell me this. You heard only Miss Carrington's voice as if speaking to somebody. Did it sound as if she spoke always to the same person, or to more than one at the different times?' "'Well, it did sound as if she spoke to different persons, but it couldn't have been so. Surely if there had been more than one I must have heard some other words than her own.' "'Never mind your own surmises. You say it seemed as if she addressed more than one person. Why?' "'Because she used a different intonation. At times angry, at times loving. But this is only an impression as I now look back in memory. I haven't thought about this point before. Nor need you think of it again. You have told me all I want to know, and I assure you it will be of no use for you to mull this over or give it another thought. But I don't want you to thank Mr. Stone,' and Anita began to cry, "'That I want to suspect, Pauline. I am not considering your wishes in the matter,' said Stone coldly. "'If you do not want to thank Miss Stewart implicated in this matter, your words and actions are unintelligible to me, but they are equally unimportant, and I have neither time nor thoughts to waste on them.' With this somewhat scathing speech Stone went away, leaving the angry Anita to be comforted by Haviland. "'What did he mean?' she cried, her cheeks pink with anger and her blue eyes shining through tears. Gray, does he suspect me?' "'No, Anita, of course not. But he's on a trail. Perhaps it wasn't Polly after all. But it had to be. It was somebody in the house and it wasn't you or me or any other servants.' "'Well, you listen to me, girl. If they quiz you any more about that talk fast you butted into, don't you colour the yarn to make it seem against Polly. I won't have it.' "'How cross you are. But I never did, Gray. I never made it seem to be evidence against Pauline. You never did anything else.' "'Don't you love me any more?' And the soft lips quivered as an appealing glass was raised to his face. "'Her eyes, like forget-me-nots in the rain, were so beautiful. Haviland clasped the lovely face in both his hands and said as he held it, I won't love you, Anita, if you go back on our Polly. I'm surprised at your attitude toward her just now, and I warn you I won't stand any more of it. I'm forced to think she did this thing, but I intend to admit that to nobody but you and Stone. If he can find the real criminal and it isn't Polly, I'll bless him for ever. But you know as well as I do why he is clinging to that forlorn hope. It's because he's—of course I know—because he's in love with her. Yes, and it's a remarkable thing for him to fall head over heels in love at first sight like that. Well, of course she is handsome, and Anita's grudging admission was real praise. You bet she is, and old Stone fell for her in a minute. Now there's the old adage of, love will find a way, and if Fleming Stone has any magic ability or whatever these wizard detectives claim, he's going to work it to the limit to prove Polly innocent, and I hope to goodness he succeeds. Great Scott, I wouldn't suspect the girl if there was a glimpse of a gleam of any other way to look. But you hear me, Anita, don't you say a word true or false that will help on the case against Pauline Stewart? I won't stand for it. And don't you say you saw her coming from that room when you know you didn't? The postman came just then and brought with him two letters addressed in Pauline's dashing hand. Well, what do you know about that? Exclaimed Grey half glad and half scared at the sight. One for me and one for F.S. Here, Anita, take Mr. Stone's to him while I eat up mine. I won't do it. I want to see what's in yours first, and Anita stood by Grey's side to look over his shoulder. All right, then. And they read together. Dear Grey, I couldn't help it. You see, I was so frightened at what you all said that I didn't know what to do. I came over to New York with a vague idea of asking Mr. Price to help me. I stayed with Ethel all night and somehow things seemed to look so black I couldn't think of anything but to go to car. I went down to the steamer office to see about changing my tickets for an earlier date or something, and I found the Catalonia sale today. I'm scratching this off to go back by the pilot. I had about two hours to get ready, so I bought a trunk and some clothes, went to the bank, and got a letter of credit, and here I am. I don't know yet whether I'm glad or sorry to be here. But I know I could not stand it at Garden Steps another minute with you and Anita both against me. Mr. Stone doesn't believe I did it, but he is doubtful of being able to prove my innocence, so I'm going to get in the car and you can address me in his care. He's my nearest relative and it's right for me to go there. I cabled him from New York to expect me and to meet me at Alexandria. I'd write more, but it's most time for the pilot to go and I want to send a word to Mr. Stone. Of course you will look after all my bills and affairs till further notice. Pauline. Good Lord! said Gray. Think of that poor child going off like that because she thought you and I were against her. Well, aren't you? asked Anita, an angry gleam in her eyes. No, never! shouted Gray. If Pauline is guilty a thousand times I'm not against her. I'm for her, Anita, for her, first, last and all the time. Come on now, let's take Mr. Stone his letter. They found Stone in the Boudoir, the room where the ghastly crime had been committed. He spent many hours here of late. It seemed necessary for the furthering of his theory and yet whenever anyone was admitted to his presence there he was found sitting staring at the room and its furnishings as if waiting for the inanimate objects to speak. A letter from Miss Stewart, he said eagerly. I hoped for one by the pilot. He opened it and after a glance handed it over to Haveland. It said only, My dear Mr. Stone, thank you for your belief in me and forgive me for running away. And please, oh I beg of you, please drop the case entirely. Your further investigation and discovery can only bring sorrow and anguish to my already distracted soul. I have no time to write more, but assume that I have put forth any or every argument that could persuade you and at once cease all effort to learn who is responsible for the death of my aunt. Sincerely yours, Pauline Stewart. 20. In the Boudoir. Finally Fleming Stone paid little attention to this letter from Pauline. Really, every word engraved itself on his heart as he read the lines and when he gave the paper to Gray Haveland it was only because he knew he would never need to refresh his memory as to the message Pauline had sent him. Stone also read the letter she had written to Gray and his deep eyes clouded with pain at some of the lines. But he returned it to Haveland without comment and then courteously dismissed the pair. He's bothered to death, said Gray as they went downstairs. So my, responded Anita, but nobody cares about me, it's all Pauline, whether she's a let up on that, Anita, and Gray spoke warningly, don't you call Pauline names in my hearing? Anita pouting plounced away to her own room. Fleming Stone remained in Miss Lucy Carrington's Boudoir. He sat on the window seat and looked out across the wide gardens and the innumerable steps. There was not much snow now. Merely great windswept stretches dotted with evergreen trees and the carved stone of the terrace railings and balustrades. Long Stone mused over Pauline's letter. For a time he gave himself up to thoughts of her in which consideration of crime had no part. He knew he loved her, loved her with all the strength and power of his great nature, with all the affection and devotion of his big heart, and with all the passion and adoration of his deep soul. He knew she was not averse to him. Knew almost, with his marvellous power of knowledge, that she cared for him, but he knew, too, that if he let his mind dwell on such alluring thoughts or visions he could not work. And work he must. I, work as he had never before, with an incentive he had never had before. And Fleming Stone's mind was troubled to know whether this love for Pauline would help or hinder this work he must do. And he resolved, with all his mighty willpower, that it should help, that he would control this surging emotion so new to him, and would force it to aid and assist his efforts and to triumph over all doubts or obstacles. Again he concentrated his whole mentality on the room and its contents. He swore to rest from the silent witnesses the story of the crime. This was not his usual method of procedure. On the contrary, he almost invariably learned his points from questioning people, from observing suspects or quizzing witnesses. But he realized the difference in essence between this case and any other in which he had ever engaged. He had no more questions to ask. He knew all anyone could or would tell him. He knew all the facts, all the theories, all the evidence, all the testimony. And none of it was worth a picayune to him except negatively. This case must be and should be solved by the application of his highest mental powers, by the most intense thought and doubtless by most brilliant and clever deduction from hints, not facts, from ideas, not visible clues. To work then. To the work that must bring success. Leaving the window seat, Stone walked round the room and finally drew up in front of the mirror the easy chair in which Miss Carrington had sat when she received the blow given by Bates. Neither she had sat here while taking the poison no one knew. If Stone's theory was right she had not. By referring to the photographs taken of Miss Carrington after her death Stone was able to reconstruct the scene correctly. He placed the easy chair just as it had been when she sat in it. He assumed the position she showed in the photographs and gazed at himself in the mirror as she must necessarily have done. Finally he went over that conversation reported by Anita Frayn. Never for a moment had he doubted the truth of that report. He was sure Miss Carrington had really said all the things Anita repeated and the clear and indubitable explanation of those remarks would mean he was sure the solution of the mystery. By way of interviewing his silent witnesses he endeavored to reconstruct in thought Miss Carrington's movements that night. Pauline and Anita had left her all three of them angry at a little after twelve. Later Estelle had left her. That was about quarter to one. Then she had on her embroidered robe and some jewels. She was not then sitting at the dressing table nor had she then presumably taken the poison. For the doctors insisted that she had swallowed the poison very near the hour of one but after it rather than before and had placed the hour of her death at two. So Stone reasoned Miss Carrington must have taken that at pretty nearly the very time Anita heard her talking. It seemed to Stone incredible that there could have been a person present to whom Miss Carrington could have addressed those remarks and who could have given or allowed her to take the deadly draft. The idea that Pauline could have been this person was not among Fleming Stone's catalog of possibilities. Moreover the fact of the one voice strongly impressed him. Another voice however low must have at some point of the conversation risen to an audible sound to a listener with normal hearing. Also Anita had asserted that the speeches of Miss Carrington did sound as if addressed to different persons. It was not likely there were two or more intruders or visitors there at once and slowly but surely Fleming Stone decided once for all that Miss Carrington was alone in that room at that time. This meant not exactly soliloquy. The mode of address contradicted that but it meant to him at least that she was addressing some inanimate object or objects as if they were sentient. His task was to discover those objects. His first thought was as he sat in the easy chair before the mirror that the lady had spoken to her own reflection. But the speeches of which he had a memorandum precluded this hypothesis. She would not say to herself, you are so fond of pearls or you have a beautiful face. Assuming that supposition Stone methodically searched for something that might have been addressed. Clearly, that is, if he were on the right track. The words, Henri, you are the Marc A. Amat could have been spoken to the Count's glove which she held in her hand. In the same vein, assuming that the glove to her represented the Count himself, might have been said this speech about the $10,000 and the remark that he loved pearls. Accepting these possibilities as facts Stone went on to discover more. His method was to repeat to himself her very words and strive to see or sense something to which they might have been addressed. You have the most beautiful face I ever saw. He quoted softly and then scanning the room went on. I only wish mine were as beautiful. His eyes lighted on the picture of Cleopatra which hung above the mirror of the dressing table. That's it. He cried with instant conviction. She looked at that beautiful face and then in the mirror at her plain features, and she involuntarily cried out for the beauty denied her. Poor woman, to live all her lonely, hungry life, surfeited with wealth yet unable to buy the fairness she craved. Not doubting for an instant the truth of his conclusions Stone checked off that speech and passed on to the next on his list. If he could account for them all he would be sure Lucy Carrington met her death alone and therefore by her own hand. Of course she did not knowingly poison herself, but if persuaded that the prepared draft was some innocent remedy, oh well, that was aside the point for the moment. But quoting the phrase, tomorrow I shall be forever free from this curse of a plain face. Tomorrow these jewels may all be yours. Even his ingenuity could suggest no meaning for a fore knowledge of approaching death. What else could free her from her hated lack of beauty? What but death could transfer her fortune of jewels to another? Of course it might be that marriage with her would give the jewels to Count Chalier, but the two speeches were consecutive, and the implication was all toward the fate that was even then almost upon her. The remark about ten thousand dollars was unimportant, as she had recently willed that sum to five different people, and the reference to a change in her will that should cut out Pauline might have been merely a burst of temper. At any rate, Stone ascribed little importance to it then. He felt that he had learned enough to assume positively that Miss Carrington was not talking to a human being when Anita Frayn heard her voice. Then he conjectured as the maid was free of all suspicion on the poisoning matter, and as the two girls had left the room at a little after twelve, the weight of evidence was in favor of the poison being self-administered, no matter for what reason or intent. Seeing this, there must be some trace of the container of the aconite before it was placed in the glass. This must be found. If not, it proved its removal by someone either before or after the poisoning actually occurred. Eagerly, almost feverishly, Stone searched. Exhaustive search had long ago been made, but again he went over all the possible places. The ornate wastebasket beneath the dressing table still held its store of dainty rubbish. This had been ordered to remain undistroyed. Stone knew the contents by heart, but in hope of an overlooked clue he again turned the contents out on a towel. Some clippings of ribbon, a discarded satin flower, two or three used powder leaves, a couple of hairpins, and a torn letter were the principal items of the familiar lot. Nothing that gave the least enlightenment. Stone got up and wandered around. What had that poison been in before it was put in that glass? The ever-recurring thought that someone might have brought it to the boudoir after preparing it elsewhere he would not recognize. A sort of sixth sense convinced him that if he kept on looking he must find that clue. He went into the bedroom. The beautiful appointments, replicas of Mariantoinette, seemed to mock at his quest. We know, they seemed to laugh at him, we know all about it, but we will never tell. When touched since Estelle's deft hand had turned back its silken coverlets the bed seemed waiting for some fair occupant. With a sigh at the pathos of it Stone suppressed an involuntary thought of the incongruity of that gilded lace-draped nest and its pitifully unbeautiful owner. There was a profusion of embroidered pillows and across the satin puff lay a fairy-like night robe of gossamer texture and coquettish ribbons. A peignoir of pink crepe lay beside it and on the floor a pair of brocade mules waded in vain for feet that would never again slip into their furred linings. There was nothing helpful here and with a sigh Stone went on to the bathroom. Fit for a princess the shining white and gleaming silver showed careful readiness. Embroidered towels, delicate soaps and perfumes were in place, all showed preparation, not use. If I were searching traces of Estelle now, grown Stone despairingly to himself, I could find thousands. But Miss Carrington didn't come in here at all. But whoever rinsed that glass did. The thought caused Stone to start with eagerness. It was the fact of the glass being out of line with the other appointments of the wash-stand that had first attracted his attention to it. After the test the glass had been returned to its place, now in strict position between a silver cup and a flask of violet water. Stone in it, muse Stone, shows carelessness on the part of whoever put it there. Don't believe a spoon was in a glass generally, in this celestial bathroom. If his ruminations were cut short by a shock of surprise. Under the wash-stand was a small waste-basket. Had this been overlooked by the searchers? Not surprising, for thorough search had not been made in bedroom or bathroom as in the room where death had taken place. Stone mechanically looked over the contents of the little basket. There was only a scant handful of papers. But carefully spreading a towel on the floor he turned the basket upside down. Tremblingly he fingered the papers. The first was the wrapper that had contained a cake of French soap. Had a glance, Stone saw the corresponding soap in its silver dish. Estelle had doubtless placed it there, casting away its paper. But among the scraps was another paper. Two more. They were... They surely were increases like the folds of a powder paper. With lightest touch Stone unfolded them. There was one about four inches square that had been folded as if to contain a powder. This was white and of a texture like writing paper. The other was of a paraffin paper exactly the same size and shape and in similar creases. Also there was a bunch of ball of tinfoil that, when smoothed out, proved to be of identical shape and size with the other two. There was no room for doubt. These were unquestionably the wrappers of the Econiton. Stone detected on the inside of the paraffin paper traces of the powder itself and knew that a test would prove his discovery a true find. Now then where did he stand? To his own mind what he had found proved that Miss Carrington had herself gone to her bathroom, opened the powder, thrown the papers carelessly in the basket and then mixing this stuff with water had taken it then and there and rinsed the glass and set it back on the shelf. It was all natural and plausible. But he well knew others would say that remembering her detestation of medicaments Miss Lucy Carrington never did such a thing. Also they would say someone else, someone of whom Miss Lucy felt no fear had mixed the draft and had administered it by means of some yet undiscovered but plausible misrepresentation. And only too well he knew whose name would be associated with the deed. Heavy of heart he returned to the boudoir and sat in the easy chair before the mirror. New thoughts came surging. It was sure now that Miss Carrington took the Econiton in a glass of water in her own apartments, one of them, and took it if not knowingly or willingly at least without any great objection or disturbance. Slinging to this theory that she was alone, Stone visualized her taking the draft by herself. Assume for the moment an intended headache cure. But no, if she took the Econiton alone and voluntarily, she knew it was poison, for she said, Tomorrow I shall be freed forever from this homely face. Did it all come back then to suicide? No, not with that glad face, that happy smile, that joyful look of anticipation, a suffering invalid longing for death might thus welcome a happy release, but not life loving Lucy Carrington. It was too bewildering, too inexplicable. Again and again Stone scanned the powder papers. They told nothing more than that they were the powder papers. That was positive, but what did it prove? To whom did it point? Frowning, Stone studied his own face in the mirror before him. Desperately he repeated all the sentences on Anita's list. At one of them he paused, even in the act of repetition. He stared blankly into his own mirrored eyes, a dawning light beginning to flame back at him. Then a little wildly he glanced round, up, down, and back to his almost frenzied, reflected face. Oh, he muttered through his clenched teeth, for Stone was not a man given to strong expletives. It is. I've got it, at last. The powder, the pearls, the snake. My heavens, the snake. Oh, Pauline, my love, my love. But who? Who? Have I discovered this thing only to lead back to her? I won't have it so. I am on the right track at last, and I'll follow it to the end, the end, but it shall not lead. I know it will not. To my heart's idle, my beautiful Pauline. End of chapters 19 and 20. Chapters 21 and 22 of the Curved Blades by Carolyn Wells. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 21. Fleming Stone's Theory. Alone in the library Fleming Stone and Detective Hardy were in council. I'm going to show you this thing as I see it, Mr. Hardy, said Stone. I frankly admit it's all theory. I haven't a particle of human testimony to back it, but it seems to me the only solution that will fit all points of the mystery. And I shall ask you to consider it confidential for the present, until I can corroborate it by unmistakable proofs. Hardy nodded ascent his eyes fixed on the speaker in a sort of fascination. This young detective had not been at all idle of late, but his work had amounted to nothing definite, and though he was himself convinced that Pauline Stewart was responsible for her aunt's death, he seldom exploited that view before Stone, having learned that it was an unwelcome subject. Here is the theory in a very small nutshell, said Stone, but remember you're not to mention it to anyone until I give you permission. Miss Lucy Carrington took that powder, thinking it a drug that would make her beautiful. A charm, a filter? Hardy's eyes seemed to bulge in his excitement. I'm not sure whether it was a fake magic affair, say, from a clairvoyant or fortune teller, or whether it was a plain swindle from a beauty doctor or something of that sort. You know such people play on the credulity of rich patrons and get enormous sums and a promise of secrecy for a so-called beauty producer. But why would the beauty doctor or their clairvoyant person give a patient poison? They didn't. They gave a harmless powder and some evil-minded person added the aconite, secretly knowing of the beauty scheme. Who did it? That's yet to be discovered, but it will be easier if we can trace the one who sold her the nostrum. Now, listen while I reconstruct the scene. Miss Carrington, having dismissed her maid, goes to her bathroom and takes the powder dissolved in water. These powder papers, which I found in her bathroom waste basket, carry out that idea. Hardy stared at the papers, but did not interrupt the speaker. Then, joyfully waiting the effect of the charm, she sits in front of the mirror to watch her features become beautiful. This is why she said to her own reflection, Tomorrow I shall be freed forever from this homely face. She gazed at the picture of Cleopatra above her dressing table and said, Yours is the most beautiful face I have ever seen. I wish mine were as beautiful. The remarks concerning Count Chalier were addressed to the glove which she held in her hand, a sentimental part of the whole performance. Pretty interesting, Mr. Stone, but pretty fantastic so far. Fleming Stone gave his slow, grave smile that always betokened a surety of his own statements. Wait a bit, Hardy, before you condemn this notion. I haven't finished yet. Now Cleopatra figures pretty strongly in this scheme. Look at these photographs taken after death. They show the lady exactly as she looked when she sat there. See, she is gazing at the picture of Cleopatra, you intently to be merely a casual glance. And what do you think of this? She gazed at Cleopatra and holding the Count's glove, her mind and heart full of the Count, who would adore her when she achieved this looked-for beauty, she said, You are the Mark I.A. Matt. Meaning as Cleopatra had her Mark Anthony, she, Lucy Garrington, aimed at the mark of her choice, the Count. If that's true, Mr. Stone, you are the Wizard of the Ages. How did you dope it out? What? Now wait a minute. This isn't the pipe dream you think it. But listen while I tell you the rest in my own way. Listen, I should think I would. Go on. You know, these fakers give out these charms with all sorts of fool directions to impress the duped customer. As I say, I'm not sure yet whether it was a professional of the Clairvoyant type or a regular beauty doctor. But in neither case I've no doubt that Miss Garrington paid him enough to compensate for giving up his practice and leaving for parts unknown. For after the charm failed to work, of course she would expose the fraud. But the poison. Never mind that for the moment, Mr. Hardy. Surely if we can discover for certain how and why the dose was taken it will go far to help us trace the criminal who added the deadly element to the powder. Now, continuing the Cleopatra idea, I am sure that the Clairvoyant will assume that's what she was. She? Merely to designate this faker person. Somehow I seem to see her as one of those crystal gazing frowsy headed, kimonoed females who prey on the credulity of rich and foolish women. Well, let's call her that for the present. This clever Clairvoyant somehow conceived the idea of offering to make Miss Garrington as beautiful as Cleopatra. Perhaps she had been here to see Miss Garrington on the subject, and that beautiful picture of Cleopatra put it into her head. But assuming something of this sort, assume further that she directed Miss Garrington to rope herself in a general way like the queen in the picture. Note the pearls. Wouldn't this explain Miss Garrington's getting her pearls from the bank for this occasion? And wouldn't it explain her speech, you love pearls, as being addressed to Cleopatra to whom she was talking? Go on, Mr. Stone, go on. I will go on. Wouldn't that explain, as nothing else on this green earth can, the purchase of a paper snake by the woman who feared and abhorred the reptiles? Supposing the fool Clairvoyant had told her that to become like Cleopatra, she must have a semblance of a snake at her throat, as Cleopatra had the arsep. Good heavens! I tell you, Mr. Hardy, nothing else would account for that snake. And any one of these things might seem the result of a lunatic imagination by itself, but taken all together, the theory holds water. Why think of the oriental scarf, the embroidered robe, the mass of jewels in addition to the significant pearls and the scarabs? All point to the type of Cleopatra. If there had been a picture on the wall, say, of Helen of Troy, and Miss Garrington had been rigged up in a Greek costume with a fillet in her hair and sandals on her feet, or if the picture had shown the goddess of liberty and we had found Miss Garrington draped in an American flag, could anyone have denied the significance? There can be no doubt, no doubt in this world, Hardy, that the costume, the jewels, and the snake all point to a connection with the picture of Cleopatra, and if so, what other connection is possible than the one I've blocked out? Answer me that. And finally the speech to the count whose gloves she fondled. You are the mark I aim at? A pleasantry of wording inevitably suggested by the thought of the man Cleopatra charmed and the man Miss Garrington desired to charm. And a play on words, too, not at all unnatural to her, for I'm told she was both witty and clever in conversation. Mr. Stone, I am carried away by your arguments. I can't deny their plausibility, but I am bewildered. How did you fathom this remarkable plan? Simply because there is no other plan that will fit the facts. I believe Miss Garrington did say all those things Miss Frayne relates. I believe she was alone in the room when she said them. Therefore they must have had, some meaning and the meanings I have just ascribed to them must be the true ones. They must be. And I will further satisfy you that they are. Here is a memorandum I found in Miss Garrington's desk. It is, as you see, a list of items. Read it. Cardi's eye stared more widely than ever as he read. Green and gold boudoir robe, jewels, especially pearls, scarabs, scarf, snake, something belonging to H. Now that, and Fleming Stone spoke in low, even tones without a hint of boasting or pride in his achievement, is a list in Miss Garrington's own writing and is undeniably a list of things to be worn on the occasion which she hoped would mean a delightful change to the beauty she so desired to be, but which instead was a change to the cold stillness of death. I found that after reaching my own conclusions about the Cleopatra business. If I had found it before I would have known it must refer to her costume, but I couldn't have gleaned from it the conclusions I had already come to. Now Cardi, are you convinced? I am, Mr. Stone, and I am also puzzled. From all this knowledge we start fresh as it were and we— Wait a minute, Cardi, let's go slowly. Now here are two ways to look at this thing. I told you about the clairvoyant first, because that first came to my mind as the inevitable explanation, but suppose instead of a professional clairvoyant or beauty doctor, some friend or— Stone said his teeth, but went on steadily, or someone in the household planned all this scheme and pretended to get a powder that would accomplish this transformation, gave it to the unsuspecting lady to take by herself, and in reality this powder was the aconite. Cardi jumped. Then, Miss Stewart—he began— Ah! And Stone's face was white in his voice like cutting steel. Why, Miss Stewart? Why not Miss Frayne who listened at the door? Why not Estelle who knew all her mistresses' secrets? Why not Haviland who is openly enjoying his present responsible position as man of affairs? Why not Count Chalier whose crafty cunning shows on his face? Of course also why not Miss Stewart, but why necessarily Miss Stewart? Well, she has run away, you know. So she has, because of unjust and unfounded suspicions. When clues point directly to her I shall admit them, but when they may equally well point to have a dozen others I shall patiently investigate them and learn the truth. Now I ask of you, Cardi, as man to man, not to favor Miss Stewart unduly, but to give her a fair show and to remember her lonely position and her timid nature. Cardi looked furtively at Fleming Stone whose eyes were downcast and fastened on some papers he was holding. Count on me, Mr. Stone, I am at your orders. I subscribe to your theories and I will do exactly what you tell me and no more or less. Good, Cardi, and thank you. Now look at these papers. They are the ones that contain the fatal powder. See this paraffin one was inside, then one of tinfoil, then one of rather heavy writing paper. That doesn't look altogether like a clairvoyant's work. Why not? It does to me. They are mighty careful to do up their goods in an elaborate manner to impress their customers. But mind you, I don't for a moment suspect this clairvoyant individual of intended murder. Either the aconite was added to the parcel from the clairvoyant or the whole affair was concocted by the murderer and under pretense of its having come from the clairvoyant. Um! Cardi was clearly beyond his depth. So, went on Stone, we must deduce what we can from these papers. What do you see peculiar about them? Just plain little old nothing, Cardi declared after a good scrutiny. I see as you remarked three papers folded similarly and of nearly the same size. What do you see? Not much more, confessed Stone gazing discontentedly at the papers. And yet there must be something to notice. Here's one point. These papers, if tampered with, I mean if anything was added to their contents, were manipulated very carefully. You know how difficult it is to unfold and refold a powder paper without making it look messy. These I would be willing to assert have never been refolded, or as I say if they were, it was done very carefully. That isn't much of a clue. And Cardi smiled. It may be, returned Stone. It at least indicates a possible elimination of the clairvoyant and an indication of the murderer preparing the powder alone. At any rate, Cardi, I've told you all this in order to ask your help. Will you go and see what you can round up in the way of the clairvoyant of our dreams? Go to all you can find in New York City. That is the prominent ones. Get a line on beauty doctors and generally look up this sort of thing. And keep it all under your hat. All right, Mr. Stone. And Cardi was off at once. Fleming Stone put away the papers and sat for more than an hour in a brown study. It must be admitted that a photograph of Pauline Stewart which stood on a nearby table held his eyes much of the time. And his gaze, as it rested on the lovely face, was now tender and now sad. At last he rang for a servant. To the footman who replied he made a request that a chambermaid be sent to him. The girl came, wondering. Mary, said Fleming Stone inquiringly. Jane, sir, returned the maid quietly. Good, said Stone. You have intelligence, Jane, as shown by your calm rejoinder. Now I want you to go to the various bedrooms or dressing rooms of all the members of the family and of all the servants and bring me all the manicure scissors you can find. I assume that some of the servants might possibly have them. Yes, sir, some of them? Very well. Get all you can possibly find and be very, very careful to remember which ones are whose. Understand? Yes, sir. Then go. If anybody questions you, same as to Stone ordered it. Jane returned with many pairs of the kind of scissors asked for by the detective. Absorbidly Stone took them from her and one by one he used them to snip at a sheet of paper from the library desk. At each test he asked Jane who's the scissors were and sometimes he wrote the name beside the cut and sometimes not. One pair in a special seemed to interest him. Whose are these? He asked. Those, sir, I took from Miss Carrington's dressing table. Jane gave a slight shudder as if at the recollection of the tragedy of that table. But these are of a different patterned handle from the rest of that dressing table silver. I don't know, sir, as to that. They were there and I brought them. Very well, Jane. Take them all back to their places. Mind now you don't mix them. No, sir. Thank you, sir. A strange excitement seemed to seize upon Fleming Stone. Abruptly he left the room and flinging on his overcoat in the hall he snatched his hat and went away almost on a run. His steps took him to the garage and in a few moments he was in a swift little runabout being driven to the sanatorium where Estelle was still staying. After a call there he hurried to pull his headquarters. Then, after a rather long call to a telegraph office, he went to one or two shops and then back to garden steps. Here he put several servants at work for him, packing his effects in such matters than summing gray havaline to the library, he said. I'm sailing for Egypt this afternoon. May I ask you to make no further investigation till my return? Egypt, gasped gray. Good heavens, man, what for? In the interest of my work for you, returned Stone gravely. Ruvish, you're chasing Pauline. We'll never see either of you again. Fleming Stone smiled. I do love her, Haviland. I make no denial of that fact. And I do hate to have her alone in a strange land. So if I can be of any help to her, an ocean or two to cross shall not keep me from her. And your detective work? Will not suffer by my absence. I've been to the police and to the district attorney and they approve my plans as I've outlined them so far. The rest must wait my return. Ah, and when will you be back? I don't know exactly, but I will keep you informed of my whereabouts. Say good-bye to Miss Frane for me, and please excuse me now as I have heaps to do. By the way, where is that record of Miss Carrington's song that I have heard of? Play it for me, will you? Thought you were in such a hurry, laughed Haviland, but granted the request. Wonderful! commented the detective as he heard it on the phonograph. It is a perfectly made record. If you don't mind, I'll take possession of it. All right, said Gray carelessly, and in another half hour Fleming Stone was on his way to the pier where the Macedonia was making ready to sail. 22. Pauline in Cairo On the first of March about mid-afternoon the Catalonia steamed into the harbor of Alexandria. Pauline at the rail watched the clearing outlines of mosques and minarets as the beautiful city became visible. It was a glistening dazzling strip between the deep blue of the sea and the azure of the sky, and, breathless with delight, she gazed at the shining sunlit picture. Then the Arab pilot came aboard and soon Pauline found herself in a shoreboat swiftly making for the key. She knew Loria would meet her at Alexandria, she had had a telegram at Naples to that effect, and she thrilled with pleasure at thought of seeing wonderful Egypt with him. Landing she was bewildered by the crowd of strange-looking people, natives, tourists, officials and porters all shouting, running, and getting in each other's way. Luggage was everywhere, and the game seemed to be to present any piece of it to anybody except the owner. Pauline felt a laughing at the antics of a black man robed in white, and a brown man robed in yellow fighting for possession of a small portmanteau, while its timid and bewildered owner desperately hung on to it herself. Three or four Arabs gathered round Pauline herself, each asserting his claim to all the virtues of a perfect dragamon. In more or less intelligible English, each insisted he had been sent to her personally by Effendi this or that, of marvelous wealth and power. Greatly interested she listened to their arguments until encouraged they became so insistent that she was frightened. Seeing this they waxed threatening, even belligerent in their determination to be engaged, and just as one laid his brown long fingers on her arm, and she drew back in a panic of fear, she saw Carloria's smiling face coming to her through the crowd. With a wave of his hand and a few short commands he sent the bothersome Arabs flying, and greeted Pauline with affection and enthusiasm. Pauline, dear, but I'm glad to see you. Have you had a good trip? But such questions must wait a bit. Where are your checks? Do you see your boxes? There's only one and some hand things. Here is. All right. And Lauria took the little sheaf of paper she produced from her handbag. Ari, look after these. A tall Arab glided to Lauria's side and took the checks. Ari is my dragoman and body-servant and general factotum, said Lauria by way of introduction. This lady Ari is my cousin, Miss Stewart. Her word is law. Yes, Mr. Lauria, Miss Stewart is queen of all. The man made a salam of obeisance and turned away to look after the luggage. He's a wonder that Ari, said Carrington Lauria looking after the retreating Arab. But be very hearty with him, Polly. He presumes upon the least encouragement. Treat him like the dust under your feet and he'll adore you. That's easy enough. And Pauline smiled. I'm scared to death of these brown and black men. But your servant is so grand of costume. Yes, he's a very high class affair. Handsome chap and fond of dress. But he's invaluable to me. Speaks almost perfect English and knows everything there is to know, and then some. Knows to everybody who has ever been in Cairo or ever thought of coming here. And he possesses the proud distinction of being the only dragoman here about who hasn't a letter of recommendation from Hitchens. You haven't that, have you, Ari? For the Arab had just reappeared. A marvelous set of white teeth gleamed in the sunlight as the response came quickly. I had one, Mr. Lauria, but I sold it. They are of use to others. Ari needs none. His self-conceit was superb and he spoke with the air of a prince. But, warned by Lauria, Pauline gave him no answering smile, rather a patronizing nod, and Ari's respect for the newcomer went up several points. Come along, girly. Commanded Carrington and he took Pauline's arm as he hurried her to the boat train. Watch while Ari showed them to the compartment he had secured for them and soon they were on their way to Cairo. Now tell me everything, said Carr Lauria as they sat alone. This is a three-hour trip and I want to know the whole story. Just think, Pauline, I've had only a few letters and they were—well, they were almost contradictory in some ways. So tell me all, from the beginning. Pauline did, and by the time they reached Cairo, Lauria knew as much as she of the death of their aunt and the subsequent search for the murderer. Wasn't it strange, he mused, that that Bates person should go in to kill her the very night somebody else had the same intention? Well, but Carr Bates didn't start out to kill her, you know. He went to steal the jewels and he knew they were all in the house that night because Estelle told him so. Now, of course, whoever gave her the poison must have known it too. Oh, I don't know. Why didn't somebody want to put her out of the way to get a bequest? Not necessarily the Count, gentlemen, but maybe one of the servants, maybe that Estelle. Didn't she receive a legacy in Aunt Lucy's will? Yes, but nobody has thought of suspecting her. Don't see why not. I thought of her first clip. I don't think that stone paragon amounts too much. Hey, what are you blushing about? Sits the wind in that quarter. Don't tease me, Carr. I do like him better than any man I ever saw, but... And so you ran away and laughed him. Out with it, Polly. Tell your old uncle Dudley the story of your life. There's nothing to tell, Carr, about Mr. Stone. But I came to you because some people suspect me. Me. Of killing Aunt Lucy. Polly, they don't. Who suspects you? All the police people, and Gray and Anita Frane. They do. You poor little girl. I'm glad you came to me. I'll take care of you. But Polly, whom do you suspect? Honest now, who is on your mind? I don't know, Carr. I can't seem to think. But when they fastened it on me, I was so frightened I just flew. Why, just think. Everyone at Garden Steps was suspicious of me. I could see it even in the servant's eyes. I couldn't stand it, and I was afraid. Yes, dear. Go on. Well, I was afraid Mr. Stone would think so, and I couldn't bear that, so I just ran off on impulse. I regretted it lots of times on the trip over. And then at other times I was glad I came. Are you glad? Sure, Polly. I wanted you to stick to your plan of coming over, you know. Yes, I'm glad you're here. Now we'll soon be in Cairo, and you'll love it. All the strange sights and experiences. You'll live at Shepherd's for the present. I've engaged a chaperone for you. How thoughtful you are, Carr. Oh, of course a beautiful young woman can't live alone in Cairo, and also, of course, you couldn't live with me. So Mrs. McDonald will look after you, but she won't in any way bother you. Whenever you need a duena, she'll be right at your elbow, and when you don't want her about, she is self-effacing. You'll like her, too. She's not half bad as a companion. At Cairo, Ari handed them from the train. Again Polly was impressed with the Arab's dignified, bearing and rich costume. His long jalabia, shaped like a well-fitting bathrobe, was a white-corded silk exquisitely embroidered. Collarless it gave glimpses of other silk investments, and over it he wore a correct English topcoat, short and velvet-trimmed. From his tarbush to his English shoes and silk hose, he was perfectly garbed and groomed, while the scarab ring on his little finger was the only bit of jewelry visible. That's nothing, laughed Loria following her glance. Wait till you see him in all the glory of his bernouse and other contraptions. Here, Ari, take this duffel, too. And now Polly pops, you'll see Cairo. The ride to the hotel was like a moving picture in color. The street-crows were rushing by, a flare of bright-hued, raiment and dark-skinned faces. Everywhere bobbles were for sale. Street vendors carried them on their heads, in their arms, or thrust them forth with eager hands. Postcards, jewelry, scarfs and fans. Fly-wisks with dangling beads. Embroideries, carved ivories, brasses, sweet-meats, fruits and newspapers all were successfully and collectively offered for immediate almost compulsory sale. And I want to buy every one, declared Polly in entranced at the sight of the catch-penny toys. All in good time, honey. Tomorrow Ari shall take you to the bizarre's with or without Mrs. McDonald as you choose, and you can get a bushel of foolishness if you want to. Everybody has to cure that first mad desire to buy rubbish by yielding to it. You soon get enough. Then I may go alone with Ari to the shops. Yes, anywhere by daylight except to social affairs. There or to any indoor entertainment you must take her. But she'll know all these things. Abide always by her decision. But won't you be with me, car? You speak as if I will be much without you. I'm awfully busy, Pauline. I'll tell you all about it this evening, then you'll understand. Here we are at Shepherds. Did you ever see such a horde of freaks? It was just about dusk. The last rays of the Egyptian sunset were lingering, as if for Pauline to get one glimpse of the picture by their rainbow lights. Many were at tea on the broad terrace. This carded, coated band crashed their brasses, and Pauline entered the hotel, her whole being responding to the strange thrill that Cairo gives even to the most phlegmatic visitor or jaded tourist. Later at dinner she met Mrs. McDonald, a correct tactful and diplomatic widow who looked forward with pleasure to the chaperonage of the beautiful girl to whom she was introduced. At Lauria's advice Pauline had put on evening dress, and she made a striking picture in black tulle devoid of all jewelry or ornaments save a breast nod of purple orchids her cousin had sent to her rooms. At dinner conversation was general, and the trio was made a quartet by the addition of an English friend of Lauria's whom he ran across in the hotel lobby. Later after they had had their coffee in the great hall, Mrs. McDonald and the Englishman strolled away and the cousins were left alone. How beautiful you have grown, Pauline! Car said, his eyes resting on her pecan't face crowned with its mass of soft dark hair. Speak for yourself, Car! She returned smiling up into the handsome sunburned face of the man who scrutinized her. You have acquired not only a becoming tan but a new air of distinction. Glad you think so, girly. Thanks a whole lot. How do you like the McDonald? Very much so far. She won't try to boss me, will she? Not unless you make it necessary, but you must remember that English etiquette obtains in Cairo, and you mustn't try to be unconventional except as Mrs. McDonald approves. Oh, I won't disgrace you, Car. I've common sense, I hope. Now tell me about yourself. I am deep in a new project, Pauline, a wonderful one. It's an enormous undertaking, but I shall put it through all right. What is it, excavation? In a way, but here's the story. Mind now it's a dead secret. Don't mention it to Mrs. Mack. I trust you with it, but it must go no further. Well, in a word, I've come into possession of an old papyrus that tells of a treasure. Oh, Car, are you a treasure seeker? Now, wait till I tell you. This papyrus is authentic, and it's nothing more or less than an account of a great horde of jewels and gold sunk purposely by an old Egyptian king to save them from seizure. You wouldn't understand all the reasons that prove this is a true bill, but it is, and so you must take my word for it. All right. The old doffer saw fit to sink this stuff in the Nile at a certain spot designated in this papyrus thing, and all I've got to do is dig her up, and there you are. Car, Loria's face lighted up with the enthusiasm of the two archaeologists, and Pauline caught the spirit too as she exclaimed. How splendid! How do you get down to it, if it's under the Nile? It's a big scheme, Pauline, and Loria's eyes sparkled. I've got to have a cofferdam, an enormous one, and oh, and a whole lot of paraphernalia, and it will cost like fury but the end justifies the expense, and then think of the glory of it. Have you got a right to do all this? Can anybody dig wherever he likes in Egypt? No, you little goose, but I've managed all that part. I won't tell even you about it, but I've… well, I've fixed it up. Now, listen here, polypops. You're to tell just simply nobody a word of all this, not one, a littlest, leastest might of a word, see? All right, Car, of course I won't tell if you say not to, but you will be away from us, out of Cairo. Off and on, I'll be back and forth, you know. This place is up the Nile a bit, and of course I have to be there much of the time. But you'll be all right. I know heaps of people, jolly sort too, and Mrs. Mack will take you round, and you'll have the time of your sweet young life. I'm sure I shall, but, Car, have you forgotten all about America, and Aunt Lucy, and… and Fleming Stone? No, Pauline, I haven't forgotten those things, but I own up aside from the awful circumstances, I'm not terribly wrought up over Aunt Lucy's death. Poor old thing, she wasn't so awfully happy, you know, and Lord knows she didn't make anybody else happy. Then, too, you must realize that as I wasn't there through the dreadful time as you were, I can't feel the same thrill and horror of it. In fact, I try to forget it all I can, as I can't do anybody any good by mulling over it. So if you want to please me, old girl, you'll refer to it as little as you can. But don't you care who killed her? Don't you want to find the murderer and bring him to justice? I want that done, Polly, but I don't want to do it. That's why I put it all in havel and sands. That's why I didn't want to go to America, unless as I told you at first, unless you needed me. I can't pay proper attention to my work here if I have any such worryment as that on my shoulders. And I tell you, Pauline, this chance that has come to me is the chance of a lifetime, the chance of a century. It means fortune, fame, and glory for me. It means Oh, Pauline, it means everything. All right, Carr, I won't interfere in any way with your work. I'll do as you tell me, but if they continue to suspect me. Suspect you, my dear girl, let him try it. I'll see to that. Don't you fear? If anything bothers you, just leave it to me. Ah, here come our truants. Now, Polly, for my sake, leave all those subjects for the present, and be your own dear entertaining self. And Pauline granted his request, and was so attractive and charming that the Englishman's straight way fell overhead in heels in love, and Mrs. McDonald was torn between throws of admiration and envy. End of chapters 21 and 22 Chapters 23 and 24 of the Curved Blades by Carolyn Wells This Librebox recording is in the public domain. 23 Two Wills For a few days, Loria stayed in Cairo and devoted all his time to the amusement and entertainment of Pauline. Together they visited the Sphinx and the Great Pyramids. Together they made trips to Old Cairo and to the Ostrich Farm. Together they saw the little petrified forest. But the immediate sights of Cairo, the tombs, mosques, and bazaars, Loria told her, she could visit with Mrs. McDonald or with their dragamon after he and Ari had gone on their trip up the Nile. Pauline was happy. At Carr's request she had endeavored to put out of her mind the horror she had been through. Frightened at the suspicions directed toward herself, fearing that she could not successfully combat them, and for another reason she had fled to Egypt and her cousin's protection. This other reason she had almost dismissed from her mind and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the novelty and interest of her present situation. After their sightseeing each day they returned for tea on the terrace at Sheppard's or went to Gazira Palace for it or to the house of some friend. Dinner was always a pleasant affair and they had frequent guests and were often invited out. As Pauline was wearing mourning no large social affairs were attended and under Mrs. McDonald's guidance the girl pursued her happy way. Nearly a week after Pauline's arrival Loria told her that the next day he must leave her and go up to the Nile to attend to his work there. They were in the sitting room of Pauline's pleasant suite at the hotel and Mrs. McDonald promised to cherish most carefully her charge in Loria's absence. How long shall you be away, car? asked Pauline. It's uncertain, Paulie. Perhaps only a few days this time, perhaps a week. I'll be back and forth, you know, when you're bound to find enough to interest you. Keep me advised of any news from America. You can always reach me by mail or wire or telephone if need be. And here's another matter, Pauline. You know, this work I'm up against is more or less dangerous. Dangerous how? Well, there's blasting and danger of cave-ins and such matters. But don't feel alarmed. I'll probably come through all right. Only, I want to make my will, so if anything should happen you'll be my heir without any fuss about it. Oh, don't talk about such things, car. You've frightened me. Nonsense. Don't take it like that. Now see here, you know my way. Touch-and-go is my motto, so I've asked a lawyer chap to come here tonight and fix up things. Suppose you make your will, too. Then it will seem more like a business matter, and not as if either of us expects to die soon. Who's your heir to be, Paulie? Why, I don't know. I've never thought about it. But you ought to. You see, now you're some heiress and it isn't right not to have a will-mate, on general principles. To be sure you may marry. Oh, I don't think I ever will, car. Nonsense, Paulie-pops. Of course you will. But you must take your time and select a good chappy. Now how does this strike you? Jeffrey's my lawyer is coming here right away. Suppose we each make a will, leaving all our worldly goods to each other. Then later, when you decide on your life, mate, you can change and rearrange as you like. But I haven't any fortune yet. Aunt Lucy's a status and all settled, is it? No matter about that, it will be in course of time. I have every confidence in Avalund. He's as honest a chap as ever breathed. He'll fix up all our interests over there in apple pie order and don't you forget it. Humour me in this thing, Paulie, and believe I know more of business affairs than you do, and it's best to do as I say. Pauline was easily persuaded and as the arrangement was conceded to be merely temporary, she agreed. Jeffrey's came. The two wills were drawn, signed, and witnessed all in correct form. Lauria and his bequeathed to Pauline all he might die possessed of, and except for a few charities and minor bequests, Pauline left her fortune to car. The business was soon over and Lauria took both documents saying he would put them in his safe deposit box for the present, as Pauline had no place for valuable papers. The next day Lauria, accompanied by the invaluable Auri, went away to the site of his projected enterprise. This affair was conducted with such strict secrecy that even the location was not known to many. Actual work had not yet been begun, but negotiations and preparations of vast importance were being made and secret conclaves were held by those most interested. Pauline had been emphatically adjured to give not the least hint to anyone whatever of the project, and she had promised faithfully to obey Carr's injunctions. The next afternoon a telegram from Flemingstone announced his arrival at Alexandria and his immediate appearance in Cairo. Addressed to her in Lauria's care, Pauline received a duly for her mail was brought to her at Sheppard's, and Carr's forwarded to him wherever he might be. She had had a cable from Haviland, but no American letters had yet reached her. Stone, having sailed just a week after Pauline's departure from New York, was arriving eight days after her own advent at Cairo. The girl's first emotion was of joy. The thought of seeing Stone again eclipsed all other thoughts. Oh, Mrs. Mack, she cried, clasping that somewhat rotund matroned round the waist and leading her an enforced dance. Mr. Stone is coming. We'll be here for tea. Oh, I am so glad. But her second thoughts were more disturbing. Why was he coming? What were his suspicions? Could he be tracking her down? Though Flemingstone had never said a word of love to her, Pauline knew by her own heart's detective instinct that he cared. But his sense of duty might make it necessary to follow where the trail of suspicion led, even at cost of his own affections. Then, too, could he suspect? But Pauline's irrepressible joy thought of seeing him left her little time or wish to indulge in gloomy forebodings. Singing, she ran off to dress for Stone's reception. Which is prettier, she asked of Mrs. Mack, holding up an embroidered white crepe of Cairo construction and a black net gown brought from New York. Where the white miss steward, it's most becoming to you. It was, and when arrayed in the lovely soft clinging affair with a cluster of tiny white rose buds at her belt, Pauline's unusually pink cheeks and her scarred flower of a mouth gave all the color necessary. Her beautiful hair piled in a crown atop her little head, was held by a carved ivory comb, and beneath their half-drooped lashes her great eyes shown like stars. For the terrace she donned a large white hat with black ostrich plumes, and flinging a white cape edged with black fur over her arm she descended to meet her guest. Though little given to emotional demonstration, Fleming Stone caught his breath with a quick gasp at sight of her, and advanced without stretched hands and a smile of a sort no one had ever before seen on that always calm face. How do you do? she said smiling, for though thrilled herself she remembered the unfailing curiosity of the terrace crowds. But Stone having taken her two hands in his stood looking at her as if he intended to pursue that occupation for the rest of his natural life. Sit down, she said, laughing a little nervously under his gaze. This is our table. Will you have tea? Tea, of course. And at last Fleming Stone took himself in hand and behaved like a reasonable citizen. And how are you, and your cousin, where is he? Mr. Lauria is out of Cairo just now, and Pauline turned to give the waiter his order. But we are three as I am under most strict surveillance, she paused realizing what that phrase meant to a detective. Of a perfect dragon of a chaperone, she continued bravely trying to control her quivering lip. Here she comes now. The appearance and introduction of Mrs. McDonald gave Pauline time to regain her poise and a glance of pathetic appeal to Stone made him take up the burden of conversation for a few moments. And then with the arrival of the tea, the chat became gayer and of course impersonal. The Englishman Pitts appeared, indeed he inevitably appeared when Pauline was on the terrace and joined the group without invitation. It was not Fleming Stone's first visit to Egypt and he noted with interest the changes and looked with gladness on things unchanged as the kaleidoscopic scene whirled about him. Later they all went up to Pauline's sitting room and viewed the street pageant from second story windows. And then Mrs. McDonald, after a short and losing battle between her conventions and her kind-heartedness, insisted that Mr. Pitts must take her across the street to buy some imperatively necessary writing paper. Outwardly courteous but inwardly of a rampageous unwillingness, Mr. Pitts acquiesced in her scheme and Fleming Stone politely closed the door behind them. He turned to see Pauline looking at him with a gaze frightened, but, yes surely, welcoming and not waiting to analyze the intent of the gaze more deeply, Stone took a chance and in another instant held her in his arms so closely that the intent of her glance was of little importance to anybody. Pauline, he breathed, how I love you. My darling, mine. No, no, don't speak. And he laid his fingertips on her parted lips. Just look at me, and so tell me. The wonderful eyes raised themselves to his and Stone's phenomenal insight was not necessary for him to read the message they held. You do love me, he whispered, oh, my little girl. And after a long, silent embrace he cried jubilantly. Now tell me. Now tell me in words, in words, Pauline, that you do. Unhesitatingly, without shyness, Pauline radiant-faced whispered, I love you, dear, and the vibrant tones filled the simple words to the brim of assurance. Though it seemed to them but a moment, it was some time later that Mrs. McDonald's tap sounded on the door. Come! cried Pauline, springing away from Stone's side while he sauntered to the window. Oh, Mrs. McDonald, you must know it at once. Mr. Stone is my fiancé. Mrs. Mack was duly surprised and delighted, and after congratulations, sent Stone away to dress for dinner and endeavored to calm down her emotional charge. Later that evening Stone and Pauline sat in the hall watching the people. Almost as much alone as on a desert island they conversed in low tones, and Stone, between expressions of adoration, told her of his theory of the beauty charm. With paling face Pauline listened. Who? she whispered. Who? Do you suspect anybody? You don't know of your aunt ever having consulted any beauty doctor or any such person? Oh, no. I'm sure she never did. Never. And you don't know of anyone who would give her poison under pretense of its being a charm or beautifier? Oh, don't. Don't ask me. And with the face white as ashes Pauline rose from her chair. You must excuse me, Mr. Stone. I am ill. I don't feel well. Really, I must beg to be excused. Almost before he realized what she was doing, Pauline had left him glided to the elevator, and he heard the door of the cage clang too even as he followed her. Poor child, he said to himself. Poor dear little girl, and going in quest of Mrs. McDonald he asked her to go to Pauline. You will perhaps find her greatly disturbed, he said, but I assure you it is nothing that can be avoided or remedied. Please, Mrs. McDonald, just try to comfort and cheer her without asking the cause of her sadness. After a straightforward look into Stone's eyes, which was as frankly returned, Mrs. McDonald nodded her head and hastened away. As Stone had predicted, she found Pauline sobbing hysterically. What is it, dear? she queried. Tell Mrs. Mack. Or if you'd rather not, at least tell me what I can do for you. Don't, don't cry so. But no words could she get from the sobbing girl except an insistent demand for a telegraph blank. This was provided and Pauline wrote a message to Carloria telling him that Fleming Stone had come to Cairo. This she ordered dispatched at once. Then she begged Mrs. McDonald to leave her as she wished to go to bed and try to forget her troubles and sleep. Meantime Fleming Stone left the hotel and proceeded straight to Carloria's rooms. He expressed surprise when the janitor informed him of Mr. Loria's absence. Well, never mind, he said, he'll be back in a few days. But I'll just go in and write a note and leave it on his desk for him. The janitor hesitated, but after a transference of some coin of the realm was affected, he cheerfully unlocked the door and Stone found himself in Loria's apartment. It was a comfortable place, even luxurious in a manish way, and the detective looked about with interest. As he had proposed, he went to the writing table and taking a sheet of paper from the rack wrote a short note. But instead of leaving it, he put it in his jacket pocket, saying to the watchful janitor that perhaps it would be better to mail it. Then he stepped into Loria's bedroom, but so quickly did he step out again that the janitor hadn't time to reprove or forbid him. All right, he said as he started to leave, when Mr. Loria returns you can tell him I called. This permission went far to allay the janitor's fears that he had been in discreet, for Carl Loria was not a man who brooked interference with his affairs or belongings. 24. Confession Carl Loria was at Helwan when he received Pauline's telegram. For a few moments he studied it, and then going to a hotel office he possessed himself of a telegram blank which he proceeded to write on by the use of a typewriter nearby. With a preoccupied look on his face as if thinking deeply, he called Ari and gave him a long and careful list of directions. And it was in pursuance of these directions that the Arab presented himself at shepherds at ten o'clock in the morning and asked for Miss Stewart. What is it, Ari? asked Pauline as she received the dragamon in her sitting-room. Miss Stewart. And the Arab was deeply respectful. Mr. Loria begs that you go with me to Sakata to visit the pyramids and necropolis. Now? said Pauline in surprise. Yes, my lady. Yes, my lady. Mr. Loria will himself meet you at the station. Will you start at once, please? But I am expecting a caller, Mr. Stone. Pardon, but Mr. Loria said if you hesitated for any reason, to implore you to go with me quickly and he will explain all. Pauline paled a little but she said simply, very well, Ari, I will go at once. Escorted by the silent majestic mannered Arab, Pauline was taken through the crowded streets to the station and they boarded a train just as it was leaving. We did get the train Miss Stewart, said Ari with a sad smile. Mr. Loria would be greatly mad if we had missed it. Yes. Pauline nodded at him her thoughts full of the spoiled day which she had hoped to spend with Stone. Yet she longed to see Carr. She wanted to tell him what Mr. Stone had said about the beauty charm and… You said Mr. Loria would meet us at the station, Ari. You put me on the train so quickly I had no chance to speak. Where is he? Not the Cairo station, my lady. The station at Bedra Zane. Where is that? Where we are going? We alight there to see the ruins of Memphis and the Pyramids of Sekara. Pauline looked puzzled but said no more and sat silently wrapped in her own thoughts, now of Stone, now of Carr, and again of herself. At Bedra Zane they left the train. Pauline looked anxiously around but saw nothing of her cousin. I do not see him, said Ari gravely, meeting her inquiring glance, but I obey his orders. He said if he not be here we go to the desert to meet him. To the desert? How? Where? This way. Here are our carts. Ari led the way to where two sand carts stood waiting evidently for them. They were a little like English dog carts and drawn by desert horses. You take that one, Miss Dort, and I this, directed Ari, standing with outstretched hand like a commanding officer. Bewildered but knowing the responsibility of Carr's servant, Pauline got into the cart he indicated. She did not at all like the looks of the gaunt black moor who drove her but thought best to say nothing. She had learned never to show fear of the native servants and she held her head high and gave the driver only a haughty stare. Ari, after she was arranged for, sprang into the other cart and they set off. The road was through the village through palm groves, past large expanses of water, and at last through desert wastes among foothills that quickly cut off the view of the road just traversed. Pauline's cart was ahead of the other and looking back she could not see the other one in which Ari rode. A strange feeling began to creep into her heart. Covertly she glanced at her driver. The hard bony face was not turned her way, but she had an uncanny sense that the man was grinning at her. Sternly she bade him stop and wait for the other cart. No anglies! he rejoined with a dogged expression on his ugly countenance. I command you! and Pauline laid hold of his arm. I insist that you stop. No anglies! he repeated, and now he gave her a distinctly impudent look and spurred the horse to faster pace. Pauline considered. She was frightened beyond words to express, but she knew she must not show fear. Hotly she held her proud little head aloft and tried to think what was best to do. Something was wrong that she knew but whether it was Ari who was at fault or this dreadful man beside her or or she stifled back the thought of Loria. He would save her. She knew he would, cried her worried brain, but in her heart was black doubt. All the unadmitted fear she had known of late, all the repressed suspicions, all the insistent doubts these came flocking clamoring for recognition. On they went, where they might be she had no idea. Nothing could be seen but the never ending hills not high but of sufficient height to cut off all view of anything but their sandy slopes. Miles and miles they traversed. The sun was under a cloud and Pauline had no knowledge of the direction they were taking. But from the man's grim stony face and cruel eyes she knew she was in dreadful even desperate danger. Courageously she insisted over and over that they stop. The reply was only a shaken head and a reassertion that English was an unknown tongue. This Pauline knew to be alive from his intelligent expression at her words. At last desperately trying to control her trembling hands she offered her purse if he would stop. To her surprise he consented and jerked his horse to a standstill. Pauline handed over the purse and the driver got out of the cart indicating by gestures that she should also alight and rest herself. The cart was small and the ride had been uncomfortable so after a moment's thought Pauline jumped out. She reasoned that the man having her money had no desire to prolong the trip and in a moment they would go back to Bedras Hain. Often had she heard of these robberies and she felt that cupidity satisfied she had little to fear. But no sooner was she on the ground than the moor sprang again into his cart and whipping up his horse fed away across the desert sand and in a minute rounded a hill and was out of sight. Pauline looked after him an instant and then realizing to the uttermost what it meant that she was abandoned to her fate in a trackless desert fell in a little heap on the sands and faded away. It was about eleven o'clock on the morning of that same day that Carloria went to Shepard's hotel and asked for Flemingstone. The two men met and eyed each other appraisingly. There was no light chat each was of serious face and engraved mood. I have a telegram from my cousin Ms. Stewart. He said drawing a paper from his pocket. I know why you are here, Mr. Stone, and I think best to show you this. Frankly, I am glad of it. Stone took the message and read. I have run away again. I am afraid of F.S. Don't try to find me. I am all right, and I will communicate with you after he goes back to U.S. I positively will not make my way back to Bedras Hain. I positively will not make my whereabouts known as long as he is in Cairo. Don't worry, Polly. We may as well be honest with one another, Lauria went on. I gather from your presence here that you know my cousin is guilty of the death of her aunt, but you don't know. You can't know what that poor girl had to put up with. I can't blame her that in a moment of really of temporary insanity she let herself be tempted. I am sorry to cut short this interview, Mr. Lauria, said Stone in his quiet way, but truly I have a most important engagement just now. If I could see you, say this evening, and talk these things over by ourselves. Surely, Mr. Stone, I must return to my work tomorrow, but I'll see you tonight. Will you come to my place? Yes, I will. About nine. Nine it is. And Lauria swung away as Fleming Stone turned and hastened into the hotel. Straight to Mrs. McDonald he went and asked where Pauline was. She went to visit Memphis in Sicara with her cousin, said the smiling chaperone. That is, she went with her cousin's dragamon, and Mr. Lauria met them at Bedrashin. Oh, did he? Now listen, Mrs. McDonald. Ms. Stewart is in danger. I am sure of this. I am going to her aid, but I may not. Stone choked. I may not succeed soon. Tell me of this dragamon. What does he look like? Graphically Mrs. McDonald described the statuesque Adi, and almost before she stopped speaking, Stone was flying along the corridor down the stairs and out the door. He caught a train to Bedrashin, and the first person he bumped into at the little station was Adi himself waiting for the train to Cairo. Fleming Stone went straight to the point. Look here, Adi. He said to the astonished Arab who had never seen him before. What have you done with Ms. Stewart? For once the phlegmatic Arab was caught off his guard. What do you mean? He stammered. I have not seen her today. Don't lie to me, and Stone gave him a look that cowed him. Now listen, you're in Mr. Lauria's pay. All right. He paid you well for the job you've just done. Now I'll pay you twice, three times as well, to undo it. Moreover, I'll inform you straight that you'll never work for Mr. Lauria again. He's a villain, a wicked man. Take my advice, Adi. Give him up and come over to me. By so doing, you'll not only escape punishment for your work today, but get a fresh start toward a good position. I don't believe you're a bad man at heart, Adi. At least I don't believe you'll continue to be if you're better paid to be good. Stone was right about this, and the talk ended in another expedition of two sand carts into the desert. Adi in one with a native driver, Stone alone in the other driving himself. Adi's cart was driven by the same moor that had driven Pauline only two or three hours before. Stone followed them, the wicked driver easily bought over to betray the place where he had left Pauline. And there they found her. Crouched at the base of a small hill, worn out by weeping and despair, wrapped by fright and terror, she had fallen into a fitful slumber from sheer exhaustion. Jumping from his cart, Stone waved the other's back and went to her. On her face were traces of tears. Her gloves and handkerchief were torn in strips by her agonized frenzies. Her shoulders were huddled as if in frantic fear, and her face was drawn and pinched with anguish. But in spite of all this, Stone thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. Stepping nearer, he lifted her to her feet, and on heeding the observers he clasped her closely in his arms and whispered endearing words. Pauline, her eyes still closed murmured, It's only a dream. I must not wake. I must not. No dream, darling, said the strong glad voice in her ear. Does this seem like a dream? And his lips met hers in a long, closed kiss. Then her eyes opened wondering, and lest she should faint from very joy, Stone carried her to the cart and placed her in it. Jumping in beside her, he ordered the other cart to lead and they started back. Neither Pauline nor Stone ever forgot that ride. At first she was content to ask no questions, happy in his nearness and her own rescue from an awful fate. But later she inquired about Loria. You must know the truth soon, dearest, said Stone gently, so I'll tell you in part now. Your cousin is a wicked man, Pauline, and you must grasp this fact before I go on. Car, wicked! And Pauline paled and trembled as if struck with a sudden blow. Yes, it was his hand, his will that sent you to be lost in the desert. He showed me a false telegram saying you had run away from me. What? Oh, I can't believe it. Well, don't try now. And Stone smiled at her. It's all I can do to manage this fiery steed without trying to tell you unbelievable things at the same time. Let me tell you something more easy of credulity. Pauline's smile was permission and Stone had no difficulty in convincing her of certain self-evident truths. By the time the trio reached Cairo, Adi was a staunch follower and as true a slave of Fleming Stone as he had been of Garrington, Loria. At Stone's direction he returned to his former master for the present and gave no hint of the later development of the kidnapping scheme. All went off as planned, said Loria, secure in his servant's fidelity. Yes, master, answered the devoted trustee, and Loria said no more on the subject. That evening when Fleming Stone went to Carloria's room he was accompanied by Pauline and the Englishman Pitts. Loria started at sight of his cousin but quickly recovered his boys and gently asked her where she had come from. No place like Cairo for me, she replied in the same light tone and they all sat down in Loria's den. More company than I expected, he said as he bustled about seating them. Adi another chair. Adi obeyed the request and then softly left the room. Mr. Loria, said Stone directly, there is no use wasting words. We are here to accuse you of the murder of your aunt and the attempted murder of your cousin. Carloria's face blanched but he tried to put on a bold front. What do you mean by this nonsense? Is it a joke? By no means. I have all the proofs of your crimes and I ask you if you will confess here or to the police. Friend Pitts I believe is connected with the police and Loria laughed grimly. Yes he is, have you anything to say? Only to deny your accusations, except that it's too absurd even to deny such foolish talk. What do you mean anyway? That you poisoned Miss Lucy Carrington willfully and purposely by sending her a dose of powdered aconite under the pretense of its being a beauty charm that would bring fairness and youth to her plain face. Carr Loria's jaw dropped. He looked at Stone as if at something supernatural. What? He stammered. You did it to get her money now, to go on with your work in the bed of the Nile. Then in order to get your cousin's share of the fortune you sent her away to die in the desert having first induced her to will you her money. Laughed Loria feebly. Poor joke, Stone. Pretty poor joke, I say. Murdered my own aunt. Not much I didn't. Carr Loria listened. Impressively Stone held up his finger to a juror's silence and at the same time he bent on Loria a glass of accusation that made him cringe. But, fascinated, he stared into Stone's eyes and in the death-like silence came a voice, the voice of Lucy Carrington, in a burst of rigging laughter. Loria's eyes seemed to start from his head and the sweat gathered in great drops on his forehead as the voice of his aunt spoke. This song is one of Carr's favourites, they heard distinctly. I'll sing it for him. Then in Miss Lucy's high clear notes came the song, O Believe Me If All Those Enduring Young Charms. Before the last strains came Loria was raving like a maniac. He had never heard of the phonograph records of his aunt's songs, for they had meant to surprise him with them on his next trip home. Have mercy! he cried. Stop her! Oh, my God! What does it all mean? Confess, ordered Fleming Stone. I will confess, I do confess. I did send her the powder, just as you say. I wrote her to dress up like Cleopatra and put on her pearls and scarabs and fasten an asp, a paper one at her throat, and take the stuff, and it would cause Cleopatra's beauty to come to her. I told her to hold in her hand something belonging to the man she loved. It was a great scheme, a fine scheme. Loria was babbling insanely now. I don't see how anyone ever found out. I was so careful. I made her promise to burn all my notes and letters about it before I would send the powder. Who suspected it? I planned everything so carefully, so carefully, made her promise to burn everything, everything, letters of instruction, powder papers, everything must be burned, I said, everything. And she said, yes, car, everything. Over and over I wrote it. Told her that if she left anything unburnt the charm wouldn't work and it didn't. Ah-ha! With a demonic chuckle it didn't. Take me away, I can't stand it! moaned Pauline. Again there was a silence. The phonograph had ceased. Loria sat with his head fallen forward on his hands at his table. He was still, and Stone wondered if he were alive. Then suddenly he lifted his head and cried out, Yes, I did it because I was crazy wild over my Nile scheme. Oh, that wonderful work! It will never be done now. When I heard Stone was here I knew it was all up. I planned to lose Pauline for a time. Not forever, no, not forever. I would have found her some day, some day. All dead in the desert, all dead. Pauline fainted and Stone flew to her side. But in a moment she revived and he begged her to go home. She consented and Adi, dependable now, took her to the hotel. Fleming Stone and Mr. Pitts attempted to get Loria to calm down and talk more coherently. Shortly he did so. He gave a full account of all the details of his crime and though he denied the intention of leaving Pauline to die in the desert his word was not believed by the two listeners. Finally he rose and walked across the room. You see, he said a little wearily but quite sane now. I have a bad streak in me. My father was a Spaniard and he killed his own uncle. The Loria line is a series of criminals. Aunt Lucy never knew this, for my parents lived always abroad. But blood will tell. And my father, after he killed my uncle, followed it up by taking his own life. Like this, though Stone caught the gesture and sprang to prevent it, Loria was too quick for him. He had snatched a dagger from the table and plunged it into his heart. Both men leaped at him but it was all over in an instant. Carl Loria had himself dealt the punishment for his crimes. Perhaps it's as well, said Stone musingly. A trial and all that would have been awful for his cousin and the family connections. Now the matter can be disposed of with far less notoriety and publicity. Yes, agreed Pitts. Fleming Stone waited till morning to tell Pauline of her cousin's death. She was wide-eyed and pathetically sad but composed. It is all so dreadful, she said, but Fleming, I knew it before I left New York. I didn't know it exactly but I felt sure it must be so and I had to come here to see. Then I found Carl so gay and light-hearted I thought I must be mistaken and I was glad too. Then when you came I couldn't make up my mind whether you suspected Carl or whether whether I came only to see you, supplied Stone. It was both, dear. What made you think of Carl in the first place? Because there was no real evidence against anyone else, though the police were making things dangerous for you, my little girl. Stone held her close as if even yet there might be a hint of danger. And I made Miss Fran confess that she didn't really see you leave your aunt's room that night though she did honestly think that you were in there and your aunt was talking to you. Nor you didn't see her actually leaving the room, did you? I only saw her with her hand on the doorknob. That was my first glimpse of her and I thought she was coming out. No, she thought of going in to apologize for her hasty temper. But hearing a voice she paused and so thrilling was the talk she overheard she waited there some minutes. And then you thought of Carl. I sized up all the people who had motive and Loria was surely in that category. And then I found the powder papers. Dear, those would have gone sorely against you if anyone else had discovered them. I resolved to rest the secret from those papers and I did. You did, how? By studying them for hours, with magnifying glasses and without. I found at last a clue, a possible clue in the fact that the edges of the papers had been cut with the curved blades of a pair of manicure scissors. I had Jane bring me all the manicure scissors in the house. Thank heaven your scissors didn't come within a mile of fitting the edges. You see, the papers were faintly scalloped on every edge. They must have been cut by the little curved blades and rarely do two pairs of manicure scissors make the same scallop. The great discovery was that Miss Lucy's own scissors did fit them. This, dearest, would have pointed to you in the eyes of those determined police, for you had access to your aunt's toilet appointments. So did Anita or anybody in the house? Yes, but the police were hot on your track and ready to bend any hint your way. Oh, thank God that I could and did save you. Well, I further noticed that these scissors of Miss Garrington's were of a different pattern from the brushes and mirrors of her set. I went to Estelle and she told me that the last time Carloria was at home he took a great fancy to his aunt's scissors and asked her to give them to him. She did, and when she tried to get another pair with that special shaped blade, she could do so only by taking a different pattern to handle. Do you wonder that I came straight over here? No, and the lovely eyes beamed with admiration of Stone's cleverness as well as with affection. Then last night I went to Laurea's rooms and found not only the scissors that fitted exactly the scalloped papers, but found that the outside powder wrappers undoubtedly a piece of his own writing paper. It is the same color and texture. Moreover, as he confessed it all, there is no further room for doubt. Another hint I had was when I found some of Laurea's letters in your aunt's desk. Not their contents, they were just such as any affectionate nephew might write his aunt, but the chirography. You know, the letter from him that you showed me was type-ritten and I judged nothing from it. But his handwriting I have studied the science, gave evidence of criminal traits, and I felt sure that I was on the right track. I brought the phonograph record to frighten him into confession and it did. I restarted it in the next room at my signal. I might have known you would do it. When I came here you know I wrote and asked you to drop the case. I feared your investigations would lead to car. It had to be a question of his guilt or yours, returned Stone gravely. You don't know, darling, how near you were to arrest. Let's not think of it ever again. I'll engage to keep your dear mind occupied with pleasant thoughts all the rest of our life. You don't want to stay in Cairo, do you? Shall we try Algiers for a honeymoon spot? Or if you don't want Africa at all, how about Greece, or over to Algiersiras? Wither away, my heart's dearest. Wither? Together. Then what matter wither, said Pauline, her eyes full of a love deep enough to drown the sorrows that had failed the past weeks. Together always. He responded, holding her to him. Always, my Pauline.