"That some one whom your aunt knew must have been taking tea with her, and in administering the poison saw to it that _his_ side of the peach was harmless," Craige responded. Kitty looked at the two men dumbly. Craige had put into words what she had dimly realized. "It is dreadful!" she gasped. "What possible motive could have inspired her murder?" Craige looked at Rodgers, then drawing out his leather wallet he selected a newspaper clipping and ran his eyes down the printed column. "Tell us, Kitty," and his voice was coaxing. "Is it true that you and your aunt quarreled on Sunday as Oscar testified?" Kitty blanched and her eyes shifted from Rodgers to the glowing embers on the hearth. "It wasn't a quarrel," she declared faintly. "Aunt Susan and I had a few words--" "Yes," prompted Craige. "A few words about what?" "About money matters." Kitty did not look at either man. Rodgers' heart sank. Oscar had also testified that the quarrel was about Major Leigh Wallace. Could it be that Kitty was prevaricating? He put the thought from him. Oscar _must_ have lied. "About money matters," Craig repeated, returning the clipping and wallet to his pocket. "Then why did you not tell that to Coroner Penfield when he questioned you in the witness stand?" "It wasn't his business--it had nothing to do with Aunt Susan's death," she stated incoherently. "And," with a slow, painful blush, "our poverty, our painful economies were bad enough without discussing them in public." "Oh!" Craige cast a doubtful look at Rodgers, but the latter's expressionless face gave the keen-witted lawyer no clue as to his opinion of Kitty's statement. "Kitty, were you your aunt's nearest relative?" "Yes. Ben Potter is a second cousin, I believe." Kitty paused. "Ben has not been here very much lately." "Since his marriage, you mean?" asked Craige. Kitty glanced up and then away. "Yes. Aunt Susan poked fun at him at the time of his marriage, said she did not care for 'poor whites,' and Ben was very angry." "Was there ever an open quarrel?" "Oh, no. Outwardly, they were good friends; and they dined here usually once a month," Kitty explained. "But relations were strained a little bit." "Could you not make Ben and Nina a visit when they return from New York?" asked Craige. "I can, if I wish," with quick resentment. "But I prefer to stay in this house." "Just a moment, Kitty," Craige held up a cautioning hand. "This house belonged to your aunt, did it not?" "Yes. But I--" she hesitated. "I ran the house with the money I earned. I can still do that." "True, if the house is left to you." Kitty stared at her godfather aghast. "Did your aunt leave her will in your care?" "No." "Did she ever speak to you of a will?" "No; she never mentioned the subject." Craige looked at her thoughtfully. "It may be that your aunt made no will," he said finally. "I transacted such legal matters as she brought to me, but I never drew up a will."