The Mystery Girl by Carolyn Wells

Author:Carolyn Wells [Carolyn Wells]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: F
ISBN: 9788726615579
Publisher: Saga Egmont International
Published: 2021-09-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XI

The Spinster’s Evidence

“That matter can easily be settled,” Cray said, and going to the door he asked Mrs. Adams to send Miss Bascom to them.

With an important air the spinster entered the room.

Holding herself very erect and even drawing aside her skirts as she passed Miss Austin, she took a seat on the other side of the room.

“Now, Miss Bascom,” Cray began at once, “what made you think of looking in this lady’s bureau drawer for that money?”

“I didn’t look for it, Mr. Cray. I merely felt that she had done wrong and I thought perhaps some evidence would be hidden away in her room. And a top drawer is the place a woman oftenest hides things.”

Cray gave a short laugh. “Rather clever of you, I admit. But Miss Austin says she did not put that money there, herself—that it was a plant.”

“A plant?” Miss Bascom looked puzzled at the word.

“Yes; she thinks some in-disposed person put it there to implicate her, falsely.”

“Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Cray, let her say who did it, and who could have got that money to do it with.”

The hard old face took on a look that was almost malignant in its accusation, and little Anita Austin gave a low cry as she saw it, and hid her face in her hands.

“Take her away,” she moaned, “oh, take that woman away.”

“You hear her,” Miss Bascom went on, unrelentingly. “Now, Mr. Cray, I’m a bit of a detective myself, and while you’ve been down here talking to Miss Mystery, I’ve been searching her room more carefully, and I’ve found a few more things, of which I should like to tell you.”

Cray was nonplused. His sympathies were all with the poor little girl, who, clinging to the arms of her chair, seemed about to go to pieces, nervously, but was bravely holding on to herself. Yet, if the Bascom woman was telling the truth, he must beware of the “poor little girl.”

“I’m not sure you’re within your rights, Miss Bascom,” he began, but he was interrupted with:

“Rights! Indeed, the rights of this matter are above your jurisdiction! The blood of John Waring calls from the ground! I am the instrument of justice that has been chosen by an over-ruling Providence to discover the criminal. She sits before you! That girl—that mysterious wicked girl is both thief and murderess!”

“Oh, no!” Anita cried, putting up her arm as if to ward off a physical blow.

Then she suddenly became quiet—almost rigid in her composure.

“That is a grave accusation, Miss Bascom,” she said, “you must prove it or retract it.”

Cray stared at the girl in astonishment. Her agonized cry had been human, feminine, natural—but this sudden change to stony calm, to icy hauteur was amazing—and, to his mind, incriminating.

Miss Bascom, however, was in no way daunted.

“Prove it I will!” she said, sternly. “In another drawer, Mr. Cray, I found the rolls of silver coin—exactly one hundred dollars worth—that we have been told were in the desk with the roll of bills.

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