"Mine--mine! Oh, of course it is mine!" she shrilled like a veritable harpy. "Every one of you would like to accuse me of this terrible crime, I suppose. Mine?--yes, it is mine. But who had it last, I ask you? That is another question to answer. Who but yourself, Maud?"
"It was I you lent it to the day before, if you remember, Paula," struck in Ross's voice quietly. "Please try to stick to facts as much as possible."
"Well, you, then--or your wretched sister--one or the other of you," she returned vehemently, stung out of all thought of good-breeding by the sudden appearance of this thing of ill-repute. "What does it matter, so long as it was used by one of you?"
"And you will remember, if you think back, that I myself brought it up to your boudoir and handed it to you, Paula, and I myself saw you place it in your top drawer," interposed Ross, still in that ice-cold terrible voice which is so much more horrible to bear than red-hot anger.
"He does not!" It was Johanna McCall who spoke at this juncture--Johanna, with two red spots of colour in her usually pale cheeks and her eyes fairly blazing. "I saw him do it, too-- _I_ saw you, Mr. Duggan. Don't believe what she says, Mr. Deland! It is she who lies-- I swear that!"
To and fro the evil words flew like vultures seeking to peck each other's hearts out in the combat. In the sudden hush which followed this last denouncement, while Lady Paula was accumulating her forces to retaliate, Cleek held up his hand.
"Then I take it," he said, "that the stiletto is the property of Lady Paula, but that it was last used by Mr. Duggan, who returned it to Lady Paula in the presence of a witness, and she put it back into her drawer. That is correct, is it not?"
"Thank you, Mr. Duggan. At any rate, the ownership of the thing is established, which, by the way, Lady Paula, makes no assertion whatever as to incriminating _you_ in this disastrous affair. Miss Debenham, would you mind coming over here for a moment? I would like to look at your dress----"
He smiled at her with disarming frankness.
"No wonder you think I am mad, but--ah, yes! see, right here on this panel--I thought I was not mistaken. If you wouldn't mind turning round a little more toward the middle of the room, Miss Debenham--thank you--right here; those dark stains." He went down on his knees suddenly and sniffed them, rubbed them with his fingers, and then beckoned the mystified Mr. Narkom, who joined him immediately. "You see, Mr. Narkom, what it is? Rather peculiar, isn't it?"