Fleming Stone pondered over this letter. He had felt a certain curiosity concerning this absent cousin, who was heir to half the great fortune, and so would have had a possible motive for a crime that would secure his inheritance to him at once. But there was no possible way of connecting a man in Egypt with a deed committed in the victim's boudoir. Vague thoughts of Loria's employing somebody to do the deed for him formed themselves in Stone's mind, but were soon dismissed as untenable. The man Bates could not be a tool of anybody, and beside, he didn't kill the lady. The poison did that. The Count couldn't be a tool of any one. He was too evidently his own master, and whether guilty or not, was entirely on his own initiative. Oh, the whole idea was absurd. The letter itself was sufficient exoneration for Loria. He was absorbed in his research work and though thoughtful enough of Pauline's wishes, he was apparently not anxious to have his plans over there interrupted. He wrote like a good all round chap, and Fleming Stone could find no peg on which to hang a suspicion in his case. "A good letter," he commented, returning it to Pauline; "what's your cousin like?" "In looks? A little like me, but bigger and darker. He's a fine-looking man, and a kind-hearted one. I shall advise him not to come home, for I know how interested he is in his work, and he can do no good here. Can he, Mr. Stone?" "Frankly, Miss Stuart, I don't see how he can. I may as well admit to you, the case seems to me a most baffling one. The assault with the black-jack is, of course, accounted for, but we have made no progress in the matter of discovering the poisoner. I feel that the solution of the mystery is closely connected with that paper snake. Can you give me any idea where the thing could have come from? Do you think Miss Carrington bought it herself?" "I am sure she did not," returned Pauline, but her voice and intonation were such that Stone turned quickly to look at her. She had gone pale, and her eyes looked frightened. "Oh, no," she went on, hurriedly, "Aunt Lucy would never buy such a thing. She hated snakes." "I know that, but she must have gotten it somewhere. It is easier to think she put it round her throat herself than to think she let some one else do it." "Why do you say that?" and now Pauline looked angry. "It is incredible that she should have put that thing round her own neck! What could have induced her to do it?" "There seems to be no theory to fit the facts," said Stone, wearily, "so we must try to get some facts that may suggest a theory. You think, Miss Stuart, that you saw Miss Frayne leaving Miss Carrington's room late that night?" "I know I saw her with her hand on the door-knob," returned Pauline steadily, and just then Anita herself burst into the room. "That is a falsehood!" she cried, and her big blue eyes flashed angrily; "how could you see me, when you were yourself in Miss Carrington's room?"