"No. But," she hesitated, "some one must have been inside the house as well as my aunt." "And that some one--?" "Murdered my aunt," looking him calmly in the eyes. "She never committed suicide." Mitchell regarded her steadfastly. "Can you give me no hint of the identity of your aunt's caller?" he asked. "Think carefully, Miss Baird. Have you no suspicion who _might_ have murdered your aunt?" Kitty did not reply at once; instead her hand slipped inside her coat pocket and her fingers closed about the small slip of mauve-colored paper tucked underneath her handkerchief, while the message it bore recurred to her: "Leigh, you are watched." To what did Mrs. Parsons' warning allude? To what _could_ it allude? And why did Inspector Mitchell invariably drag Leigh Wallace's name into their conversation? And what had inspired her aunt's hatred of Leigh? Could it have been fear? Fear of what--Death? Kitty shuddered, then pulled herself together. She must not let fancies run away with her. "I know of no one who could have had a motive for killing poor Aunt Susan," she said. "It must have been the work of some one afflicted with homicidal tendencies." "I'll stake my reputation that it was no maniac," declared Mitchell. "The crime was deliberately planned and by some one with nerves absolutely under control. Look at the manner in which the poison was administered--placed on one side of the knife-blade, so that the prussic acid only touched the piece of peach given to your aunt, and the murderer ate his half in perfect safety. It was neat, devilishly neat!" "Have you found out where the peaches came from?" asked Kitty. "No, worse luck." Mitchell frowned. "Very few fruit stores make deliveries on Sunday and those few deny sending any fruit here." "How about the Italian fruit stands? Have you questioned the dealers?" Mitchell smiled wryly. "Not many fruit dealers carry peaches at this season. Our operatives have been pretty thorough in their investigations." He paused before adding, "According to their reports no one, man, woman, or child, purchased peaches on Sunday last." Kitty hesitated. "They may have come from a distance," she suggested. "By parcel post or express. Have you thought of that?" "Yes, and we found that no package was left here by the express company or post office employees." Mitchell paused to replace his notebook and pencil in his pocket. "No, Miss Baird, the murderer brought those peaches with him." "It would seem so," agreed Kitty, thoughtfully. "And it must have been some one who knew that your aunt liked peaches," went on Mitchell. "Were her tastes generally known among your friends?" Kitty caught her breath sharply. The question recalled an incident forgotten in the rush of events. Leigh Wallace, on the few occasions when he had been invited to tea with them, had invariably preceded his visit with a basket of fruit, and--each basket had contained peaches!