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"One can only guess, but I believe my guess to be correct. Mrs. Inglethorp
had no stamps in her desk. We know this, because later she asked Dorcas
to bring her some. Now in the opposite corner of the room stood her
husband's desk--locked. She was anxious to find some stamps, and,
according to my theory, she tried her own keys in the desk. That one of
them fitted I know. She therefore opened the desk, and in searching for the
stamps she came across something else--that slip of paper which Dorcas
saw in her hand, and which assuredly was never meant for Mrs. Inglethorp's
eyes. On the other hand, Mrs. Cavendish believed that the slip of paper to
which her mother-in-law clung so tenaciously was a written proof of her own
husband's infidelity. She demanded it from Mrs. Inglethorp who assured
her, quite truly, that it had nothing to do with that matter. Mrs. Cavendish
did not believe her. She thought that Mrs. Inglethorp was shielding her
stepson. Now Mrs. Cavendish is a very resolute woman, and, behind her
mask of reserve, she was madly jealous of her husband. She determined to
get hold of that paper at all costs, and in this resolution chance came to her
aid. She happened to pick up the key of Mrs. Inglethorp's despatch-case,
which had been lost that morning. She knew that her mother-in-law
invariably kept all important papers in this particular case.
"Mrs. Cavendish, therefore, made her plans as only a woman driven
desperate through jealousy could have done. Some time in the evening she
unbolted the door leading into Mademoiselle Cynthia's room. Possibly she
applied oil to the hinges, for I found that it opened quite noiselessly when I
tried it. She put off her project until the early hours of the morning as being
safer, since the servants were accustomed to hearing her move about her
room at that time. She dressed completely in her land kit, and made her way
quietly through Mademoiselle Cynthia's room into that of Mrs. Inglethorp."
He paused a moment, and Cynthia interrupted:
"
"
"
"
"
But I should have woken up if anyone had come through my room?"
Not if you were drugged, mademoiselle."
Drugged?"
Mais, oui!"
You remember"--he addressed us collectively again--"that through all the
tumult and noise next door Mademoiselle Cynthia slept. That admitted of
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