Kitty did not sit down at once. Her thoughts were in a turmoil as she paced up and down the room. Was Mandy right? Had she dreamed overhearing an unknown woman offer Oscar a bribe to steal papers which had belonged to her aunt? Her aimless footsteps carried her into the library and to the Dutch door. The small panel stood open. Kitty's eyes strayed from it to the telephone. On impulse she crossed to the instrument and took up the telephone directory. It took her but a moment to find the number she wished, then she paused. Should she call Edward Rodgers or her cousin, Ben Potter? She had seen or heard nothing from either Ben or his wife since late Tuesday afternoon after the inquest, when they had stopped for a brief moment to tell of their contemplated trip to New York and to suggest that she accompany them. She had been tempted to accept their invitation. A longing to run away from the mansion which she had called home from her earliest recollection, to separate herself from the tragedy of her aunt's murder had almost overpowered her. But her sense of horror at the crime, her determination to solve the mystery and bring her aunt's murderer to justice had conquered, and she had stayed on at the old house, refusing to follow Charles Craige's suggestion that she engage a trained nurse as a companion and go to a hotel. Nina Potter had promised to telephone to her immediately upon their return from New York, but so far she had received no message from her. Kitty felt urgent need of clear-headed advice. Instinctively, she took up the telephone instrument. She had not seen Edward Rodgers since Tuesday night when they had discovered her aunt's will secreted under the plaster cast of the Gila monster, but he would come at her call--her woman's instinct told her that. The telephone bell sounded with such suddenness that she almost dropped the instrument. Recovering herself she took off the receiver. "Is that you, Miss Baird?" Edward Rodgers' deep tones were music in her ears. "Will you be in this evening? Can I see you?" His questions came in such swift succession that Kitty had no chance to answer each individually. "Do come," she called back. "I'll be very glad to see you." "Righto--" The connection was poor and his voice sounded faintly over the wires. "In about an hour." With heightened color she hung up the receiver and Mandy, entering the dining room some seconds later, found her sitting demurely at her place at the head of the table, waiting patiently for the "tasty" broiled chicken. During the service of the meal, Mandy kept up a running chatter of conversation, talking on any subject, regardless of its relevancy. Several times Kitty regarded her in surprise; it was not like Mandy to be garrulous.