Kitty watched the taxi and its solitary passenger disappear up Q Street before turning toward the brick walk which circled the house and led to the large garden in the rear. She dreaded entering the house alone. It was a feeling which she had not been able to conquer, and she had, on the few occasions when she had gone out, always arranged to have one of the servants in the house upon her return. Mandy had asked for the afternoon off and Oscar, not being at home when Kitty left to go to Mrs. Parsons, had probably not gotten back in time to be told by Mandy before her departure that he was to await Kitty's return. Kitty shook herself. It was not yet four o'clock in the afternoon. It was foolish to give way to nerves. But before turning into the walk, Kitty took one final look down the terraced steps, hoping for a sight of Mandy's substantial form or old Oscar's halting walk. Neither was visible. As her glance swept upward, she saw a piece of crumpled paper lying on the step just below her. Stooping over, she picked it up and, observing writing upon it, smoothed out the paper. She had read the few words it bore several times before she took in their meaning. Leigh, you are watched. Kitty turned the paper over. It was the one she had seen the waiter at the Shoreham slip surreptitiously into Leigh Wallace's hand. She recognized the delicate mauve shade of the paper--she also recognized the handwriting. Why had Mrs. Parsons written such a warning to Leigh Wallace? With her ideas in a whirl Kitty walked slowly around the mansion and to the side door. It gave entrance to the library. There was a perceptible pause before Kitty unlocked the door and entered the house. She had grown to loathe the library. Mouchette, aroused from her slumber in front of the fireplace, came forward with many "mews" to greet her. Kitty fondled the cat affectionately before laying down her muff and fur piece on the nearest chair. Going over to the chimney, she poked the smoldering embers on the hearth into a feeble blaze and added some kindling wood. She had a sense of chill in the room apart from its lack of heat. She could not dissociate her surroundings from the tragedy of Sunday. In her mind's eye she saw always her aunt's body lying inert in the throne-shaped chair and in memory she conjured up their last interview on that fatal Sunday afternoon. Her aunt had not spared her feelings. What was it that she had called her--an ingrate! And her last sentence still echoed in Kitty's ears: "Mark my words, Kitty, if you don't conquer this infatuation for Leigh Wallace, it will not be you alone who will suffer. It will kill me." As Kitty spread out her cold hands to the blaze her eyes again read the message written by Mrs. Parsons on the mauve-colored paper, which she still clutched in her fingers: Leigh, you are watched. CHAPTER XIII BRIBERY