"I answered the 'phone; quite so." Craige's smile was peculiar. "My butler, Lambert, is well trained and," with emphasis, "well paid. He is quick at recognizing the voices of my intimate friends. I happened to be in Washington in my, eh, town apartment," with a sidelong look at Kitty. "From there I have a direct wire to my switchboard in my house, and Lambert plugged in your call. You thought you were talking to me at 'Hideaway,' Rodgers, whereas I wasn't six blocks away from here. "I told Lambert to take care of you until I got home, then hurried over here. I have a key to the side door. It took but an instant to slip upstairs to your room and to go through your desk. Mandy never woke up, but that infernal cat," with a vindictive snarl. "I wish I had strangled her. When I got back to 'Hideaway,' I found you and Kitty so engaged with each other that I knew you never realized the time I took to appear." "So that was it!" Rodgers drew a long breath. "And you followed us and tried to shoot me in the Park!" "Yes." Craige favored him with a scowl. "I got word yesterday that you were wise to the kind of life I was leading--you knew too much. I detected you watching me last night. If Kitty had not swerved her car when she did, I'd have potted you, for I'm a crack shot as a general thing." "And did you throw the revolver into the car as you dashed by?" asked Kitty. "Yes. I had tied a handkerchief loosely about the butt of the revolver so as not to leave finger prints," Craige added. "It was clever of you, Rodgers, to trace the handkerchief as you did. In my haste that night, I never noticed that I had one of Cecelia's handkerchiefs in my pocket and none of my own." He paused, his voice had grown husky. "Well, that clears up the mystery." "All but Mrs. Parsons' part in it," broke in Rodgers. "Where did she come in, Craige?" Craige's color mounted, then receded, leaving him deadly white. "She cut a big splurge here," he began, "and soon went through her money. She found out about Miss Baird and came here early Monday morning, knowing that Kitty was spending the night with her cousins, hoping to borrow from Susan. She found the front door open, so she told me, and walked in. When she discovered Miss Baird lying dead in the library, she bolted home and called up the police." "And why did she try to bribe Oscar?" demanded Kitty. "She wanted some papers to prove that your aunt was a money-lender," Craige twisted about, his growing uneasiness plainly indicated by his avoidance of their gaze. "In other words," cut in Mitchell. "Mrs. Parsons hoped to blackmail Miss Kitty Baird by threatening to expose her aunt's career." Craige nodded sullenly. "Something like that," he admitted. Rodgers had not taken his eyes from him. "Did Mrs. Parsons know that you wished to marry Kitty?" he asked. Craige shifted his feet about. "No," he muttered. "Did she know that you killed Miss Susan Baird?" Rodgers was persistent in his questioning.