Mrs. Parsons' slight start was lost on all but Craige. "Drop the melodrama, Ben," he said. "We prefer to listen to Inspector Mitchell and not to you. Go on, Inspector." But the Inspector was doomed to another interruption, for as he hitched his chair closer to Nina Potter, the sound of footsteps in the gallery circling the library drew all eyes upward. With the aid of his nurse, Ted Rodgers was making his way down the gallery steps with faltering speed. "Don't any one rise," he begged, as they started to their feet. Kitty was the first to reach his side. "Ted, is this wise, dear?" she asked, making no attempt to conceal her anxiety. "How could you let him get up, Miss Gray?" "She couldn't help herself." Rodgers gently but firmly disengaged his hand from Kitty's tender clasp. "Go and sit down, dear; I'll take this chair." Miss Gray aided him in pulling out the throne-shaped chair. By tacit consent the others had avoided sitting in it. As Rodgers sank back, the bandage on his head showed up plainly. Leigh Wallace transferred his gaze elsewhere. Vividly before him had loomed the memory of Miss Susan lying dead in her throne-shaped chair on Monday morning. Rodgers' complexion matched the dead woman's in pallor. His exertions had made him deadly faint and it was some seconds before he could gather his strength to speak with clearness. "Don't wait, Miss Gray," he said courteously. "They will call you if I need your aid. Thank you." Then as the nurse withdrew, he turned to Inspector Mitchell. "Well, what news?" "Miss Baird," Mitchell cleared his throat and pointed to a typewritten manuscript which he had lain before him on the table just as Rodgers joined them. "You quarreled with your aunt on Sunday--" "We had an argument, I admit--" Kitty rubbed one nervous hand over the other--they were both cold. "It was more than an argument--it was a quarrel, and about Major Leigh Wallace," Mitchell's manner was dictatorial. "Don't contradict me, madam, I know." "Well, what else do you know?" demanded Craige, losing patience. "What's that document you have there, Mitchell?" "All in good time, sir." Mitchell's smile was tantalizing. "You went out of here, Miss Baird, in a rage, because your aunt had ordered you not to return. Can you deny it?" "N--no." "Stop a moment," Craige held up his hand. "You are not obliged to answer these questions, Kitty, except in a law court. Don't overstep your authority, Mitchell." Mitchell's only answer was to shrug his heavy shoulders, and look across the table at Kitty. "Miss Baird," he began. "You purchased some peaches for Mrs. Parsons on Saturday--" She looked at him dumbly. Then at Mrs. Parsons, who gazed back at her in silent astonishment. "I bought some fruit for her on Saturday," she admitted. "But if there were any peaches in the basket, they were there unknown to me."