"Certainly, Ted." Kitty put her foot on the self-starter. "I am only too thankful to give it to you and to have you, dear, to confide in." He returned her warm handclasp with a grip that hurt. "But, Ted, how is it that Mrs. Parsons knows that the police are watching Leigh?" "The police?" echoed Rodgers. "Oh, ah, yes. Perhaps she has had another call from Inspector Mitchell; I saw him coming away from there yesterday." "But why in the world should he confide in Mrs. Parsons?" "I don't know--" Rodgers was frowning in the darkness, and Kitty, intent on starting the car, did not notice the alteration in his voice. "I don't know why any one puts trust in Mrs. Parsons." "Why, Ted!" Kitty looked at him in surprise. "I never knew you disliked Mrs. Parsons." "I have no use for her," he admitted. "I never did like cats--even your Mouchette." "Imagine putting Mrs. Parsons in a class with Mouchette," Kitty chuckled, then grew grave. "Ted, you don't suppose, really suppose, that Leigh could have killed Aunt Susan, a defenceless old lady." "With a serpent's tongue." The words were no sooner spoken than Rodgers regretted them. "Forgive me, darling--" "I know poor Aunt Susan was not loved--." A sigh escaped Kitty. "Can it be that Aunt Susan quarreled with Leigh over his father's treatment of her--" "It might be," Rodgers' tone was grave. "But so far we do not even know that Leigh was at your house on Sunday afternoon. Don't brood over the tragedy, Kitty: forget it, for to-night, at least. Here's a clear stretch of road ahead--step on the gas." Instinctively, Kitty followed his suggestion and the car shot ahead. The wind fanned their cheeks through the opened windshield, and Kitty was conscious of a feeling of exhilaration as they tore onward, gathering speed with each throb of the powerful engine. In the distance Kitty descried a car approaching and dimmed her headlights. The courtesy was not returned; instead a spotlight swung directly on them and Kitty, blinded by the glare, swerved to the right as the oncoming car swept up. She heard a deafening report, something swished by her, and the car raced up the road they had just traversed. Checking the speed of her own car, Kitty swung it back into the center of the road and turned, white-lipped, to Rodgers. "How dare they drive like that!" she gasped. "They must be drunk or cra--" Her voice failed her at sight of Rodgers sitting huddled back in the car--there was something unnatural in his pose which chilled the blood in her veins. "Ted!" Her call met with no response. Slowly she put out her hand and touched his shoulder; then her hand crept upward to his face and forehead. What she touched felt moist and sticky. She jerked her hand downward so that the light from the dash-lamp fell upon it. It was covered with blood.