"Mouchette, Mouchette," she moaned. "Aunty's gone--gone," and she buried her face in the long fur. Gradually, her sobs grew less, and McLean, observing that she was regaining some hold on her composure, withdrew to the other end of the library where Inspector Mitchell was holding a low-toned conversation with Charles Craige. "I am glad you are here, Craige," McLean said, keeping his voice lowered. "This is the devil of a mess." The lawyer's handsome face expressed grave concern. "So I judge from what Inspector Mitchell told me on the telephone and what he has just said." He moved so as to catch a better view of the library. "Where have you taken Miss Baird?" "To her bedroom," replied Mitchell. "The autopsy will be held this afternoon probably." He had not troubled to lower his rather strident voice and his words reached Kitty's ears. Dropping the cat, she sprang to her feet with a slight cry. "Autopsy?" she exclaimed. "No, not that!" And she put up her hand as if to ward off a blow. "Why not?" demanded Mitchell, and as Kitty hesitated, McLean spoke quickly. "It is customary in cases of sudden death, Kitty, to hold autopsies," he explained. "Your aunt was found dead in this room--" "Here!" Kitty looked about with a shudder. "I did not realize--Mr. Craige only told me--we met at the door," she pulled herself up short, waited a moment, then continued with more composure. "I understood that aunty had died suddenly. It has been a great shock," she looked piteously from one to the other. "I have lived with aunty ever since I can remember--and now to be without her!" She again paused to steady her voice. "Oh, it seems impossible that she is dead; she was so alive--so anxious to live." Inspector Mitchell cocked an eager eye at McLean. "So she wanted to live, Miss," he commented. "Never expressed any wish to end her life, did she, Miss Baird?" "Never!" Kitty stared at him in astonishment. "What put such an idea into your head?" "It wasn't ever in _my_ head," Mitchell retorted. "Dr. McLean is responsible for the theory." Kitty turned and looked directly at McLean. Tears were still very near the deep blue eyes, and her cheeks had lost their wonted color, but as she faced the three men they were conscious of her beauty. Slightly above medium height, she looked taller owing to her straight and graceful carriage. McLean sighed involuntarily. He dreaded a scene. "Why, Doctor, what made you think Aunt Susan wished to die?" Kitty's voice rose. "You told me only last week that she was in excellent health." "So I did." McLean spoke in haste. "Your aunt was in good health, Kitty; but, eh, the circumstances of her death--" Kitty's eyes widened. "The circumstances of her death," she repeated slowly, and paused as if seeking a word, "were they not--natural?"