"I'm not sure," Craige glanced up at him quickly, then dropped his eyes. The sight of his handcuffs sent a shiver down his spine and he again shifted his gaze. "Mrs. Parsons done picked up dat ar' rubber ball befo' she left on Monday mawnin'," volunteered Oscar. The old man had been a fascinated witness of all that transpired; his face, gray from fright at the death of Cecelia Parsons, had regained its normal hue somewhat, but his eyes still bulged from his head. "She did!" A startled look crept into Craige's ever shifting eyes. "Why, I found the cat playing with the syringe when I first entered this room. I knew that I had dropped it on Sunday, probably when I re�ntered the library after Susan Baird screamed." A shudder shook him, in spite of his iron self-control. "Seeing it here this afternoon, I supposed it had rolled in some corner, and been overlooked. I judged that the cat had selected it as a plaything." "It's a wonder the cat didn't poison herself," commented Mitchell. Craige's face was distorted into what he meant for a smile. "There wasn't a drop of poison left in the syringe," he said. "I considered finding it a direct act of Providence, for I expected trouble of some kind, and brought with me a small phial of a concentrated solution of crotalidae--" "What's that?" asked Mitchell. "Snake venom, and deadly when introduced into the blood," explained Craige. "It's sometimes used in drugs given by homeopathists. During the few minutes I was alone in the library I put the poison in the syringe." "But if Mrs. Parsons carried away the syringe on Monday morning, how did it get back in this library to-day?" asked Kitty. "She probably guessed that it was used to kill Miss Susan Baird in some way, and brought it back to incriminate Miss Kitty Baird," declared Mitchell. "Mrs. Parsons was as clever as they make them, but she overreached herself when she tried to involve you, Mr. Rodgers. I kept the wires to San Francisco hot until I found out that the papers she produced to prove that you were involved in the Holt will forgery were ones found in Gentleman Jake's house, when he and his confederates were trying to forge Holt's will." He turned to Craige. "Did you put Mrs. Parsons up to that deviltry, Mr. Craige?" Craige ignored the question and Potter broke his long silence. "I imagine he did," he said. "Mrs. Parsons was the divorced wife of Gentleman Jake, and later she married Amos Parsons. He left some property and she came east. She'd have lived straight, Craige, if it hadn't been for you." "Craige," Mitchell's harsh voice made the lawyer turn with a nervous jump. "Did you conceal that small bottle of prussic acid in the ivory dice cup?" "Yes," sullenly, then with a venomous glance at Kitty. "I hoped to involve you." "You yellow devil!" Ted Rodgers rose and stepped toward him, but Mitchell intervened.