“But that showed cleverness,” Wise insisted. “You see for yourself how difficult of solution it makes the mystery. It gives room for assumption that some one came in from the street.” “There’s room for that assumption, if you like,” Zizi declared, “but what’ve you got to back it up? Nothing.” “What have you got to back up any theory?” cried Bates. “Nothing.” “Then let’s get something!” exclaimed Letitia, rising from her chair. “Come on with me to Mrs Everett’s and we’ll get something to back up some theory, I’ll be bound!” Glad of the chance,—for which he had maneuvered,—to see the two inimical women together, Wise followed the others to the Everett apartment. The meeting between the two would have been comical, but for the underlying element of tragedy that pervaded the whole situation. “Why are you here, Letitia Prall?” was Mrs Everett’s greeting. “To ask you why you accused me of murder,” answered Miss Prall, her manner more the Grenadier than ever. “I’m told you sit in judgment on me and I ask an explanation.” “The facts explain themselves,” returned the blonde little lady; “it’s not hard to understand why I think you killed a man whom you had often expressed a desire to see dead!” “Huh!” sniffed Miss Prall. “I’ve often expressed a desire to see you dead,—but I haven’t killed you—yet! You know perfectly well, Adeline, that saying I wish a person dead, is merely a habit of mine,—as you say ‘I nearly died when I heard it!’ Now, you didn’t nearly die at all, and death is not so trivial as we seem to think it, when we talk so at random. Lots of people, especially women, throw around phrases such as, ‘I thought I’d die,’ or ‘I could kill you for that,’ without any real meaning to the words at all. So, once and for all, Adeline Everett, stop using those silly phrases as evidence of my criminal tendencies! And suspicion thus being lifted from me, I denounce you as the one who killed Sir Herbert. And I have far more reason, for you were not only interested in his demise because of the affair between your daughter and my nephew but you had an ax of your own to grind. You wanted Sir Herbert for your husband. Yes, you may well blush——” “Hush up, Letitia Prall! Am I to be insulted in my own house? Are the raving words, the wicked thoughts of a misguided, vicious woman to be believed by those who hear them? I protest! I,—shut up, Letitia!” For Miss Prall was talking at the same time, and her biting, scathing words were only unheard because of the higher pitch and louder tone of Mrs Everett’s voice. The audience undertook to pour oil on the troubled waters but with no success. “Keep still, Richard,” Miss Prall ordered, when Bates began, “Please, Auntie——” And Mrs Everett screamed “Shut up!” to Zizi, who, almost laughing at the strange scene, endeavored to placate one or both the combatants.