"Because they are endeavoring to solve the mystery of my aunt's murder." Kitty nothing daunted by the older woman's evasions was determined to fight in the open. "I am convinced, Mrs. Parsons, that Leigh--and you--have a guilty knowledge of that crime." Only the most astute observer could have translated the swift change in Mrs. Parsons' expression. Even to Kitty's prejudiced ears her low amused laugh rang true. "You have dug up a mare's nest," Mrs. Parsons replied. "To think that you should consider that I had a hand in poor, dear Miss Susan's death! Why, my dear, it would be insulting if it was not ludicrous." Kitty flushed with wrath; Mrs. Parsons' ridicule was hard to bear. After all, was the widow right--had she dug up a mare's nest? There was nothing but that note of warning to Leigh Wallace to connect her in the slightest degree with the tragedy. "Will you tell me to what your note referred," she asked, "if not to my aunt's murder?" "You overstep my patience." Mrs. Parsons drew herself up with a displeased gesture. "I decline to be questioned further on the subject." "Miss Baird--" the interruption came from the doorway and both Kitty and her guest whirled around to see a white-capped nurse watching them. "Mr. Rodgers keeps calling for you. Will you come, please?" "Yes, immediately." Kitty was half way to the door when Mrs. Parsons addressed her with eagerness in her voice. "Is Mr. Rodgers here?" she asked. "Yes." Kitty's impatience was marked. "We brought him here after the--the accident. Dr. McLean thought it best not to move him to a hospital. Please don't detain me." "But, my dear," Mrs. Parsons paused just in front of her. "Are you here alone--unchaperoned?" "My cousin, Nina Potter, came last night to be with me--" "Oh, I am relieved," Mrs. Parsons purred out the words. "No one can afford to defy the conventions. If your cousin was not here, I would volunteer myself--" "Thanks--excuse me, Mrs. Parsons--" The porti�res opened and closed behind her vanishing figure and Mrs. Parsons found herself alone in the library. Raising her gold lorgnette Mrs. Parsons took a prolonged survey of the throne-shaped chair standing in its customary place behind the tea table. It required but little stretch of the imagination to visualize Miss Susan Baird presiding over the tea cups, her hawklike nose and piercing eyes. In spite of the warmth of the library, Mrs. Parsons shivered and drew her costly fur coat more closely about her. With some hesitancy she approached the tea table and scanned the antique silver tea service. She had admired it on many occasions. Taking up the teapot she reversed it and tried to decipher the hall mark; failing to do so she examined first the cream pitcher and then the sugar bowl. As she lowered the bowl, she glanced across the tea table and saw two large yellow eyes regarding her from the throne-shaped chair.