her he came here for that purpose, and it was done premeditatedly."
"Why do you say 'if he killed her'? It's been proved she didn't kill herself; it's been proved that no one could enter the house without a latch-key, and it's been proved that the deed was done in that one hour between half-past ten and half-past eleven. So it had to be Mr. Carleton."
"Miss French, you have a logical mind, and I think you'd make a clever little detective. But you have overlooked the possibility that she was killed by some one in the house."
"Some of us?" Kitty's look of amazement almost made Fessenden smile.
"Not you or Miss Gardner," he said. "But a burglar might have been concealed in the house."
"I never thought of that!" exclaimed Kitty, her eyes opening wide at the thought. "Why, he might have killed us all!"
"It isn't a very plausible theory," said Fessenden, unheeding the girl's remark, "and yet I could think of nothing else. Every instinct of my mind denies Carleton's guilt. Why, he isn't that sort of a man!"
"Perhaps he isn't as good as he looks," said Kitty, wagging her head wisely. "I know a lot about him. You know he wasn't a bit in love with Maddy."
"You hinted that before. And was he really a mere fortune-hunter? I can't believe that of Carleton. I've known the man for years."
"He must have been, or else why did he marry her? He's in love with another girl."
"He is! Who?"
"I don't know who. But Madeleine hinted it to me only a few days ago. It made her miserable. And that's why everybody thought she wrote that paper that said, 'I love S., but he does not love me.'"
"And you don't know who this rival is?"
"No, but I know what she's like. She's the 'clinging rosebud' effect."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that. You know Madeleine was a big, grand, splendid type,—majestic and haughty; and she thought Schuyler loved better some little, timid girl, who would sort of look up to him, and need his protection."
Fessenden looked steadily at Miss French. "Are you imagining all this," he said, "or is it true?"
"Both," responded Kitty, with a charming little smile. "Maddy just hinted it to me, and I guessed the rest. You know, I have detective instinct too, as well as you."
"You have, indeed;" and Rob gave an admiring glance to the pouting red lips, and roguish eyes. "But tell me more about it."
"There isn't much to tell," said Kitty, looking thoughtful, "but there's a lot to deduce."
"Well, tell me what there is to tell, and then we'll both deduce."
It pleased Kitty greatly to imagine she was really helping Fessenden, and she went glibly on:
"Why, you see, Maddy was unhappy,—we all know that,—and it was for some reason connected with Schuyler. Yet they were to be married, all the same. But sometimes Maddy has asked me, with such a wistful look, if I didn't think men preferred little, kittenish girls to big, proud ones like herself."
"And you, being a little, kittenish girl, said yes?"
"Don't be rude," said Kitty, flashing a smile at him. "I am kittenish in name only. And I am not little!"
"You are, compared to Miss Van Norman's type."
"Oh, yes; she was like a beautiful Amazon. Well, she either had reason to think, or she imagined, that Schuyler pretended to love her, and was really in love with some dear little clinging rosebud."
"Clinging rosebud! What an absurd expression! And yet—by Jove!—it just fits her! And Miss Van Norman said to me—oh, I say, Miss French, don't you know who the rosebud is."
"No," said Kitty, wondering at his sudden look of dismay.
"Well, I do! Oh, this is getting dreadful. Come outside with me and let's look into this idea. I hope it's only an idea!"
Throwing a soft fawn-colored cape round her, and drawing its pink-lined hood over her curly hair, Kitty went with Fessenden out on the lawn and down to the little arbor where they had sat before.
"Did you ever hear of Dorothy Burt?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"No; who is she?"
"Well, she's your 'clinging rosebud,' I'm sure of it! And I'll tell you why."
"First tell me who she is."
"She's Mrs. Carleton's companion. Schuyler's mother, you know. She lives in the Carleton household, and she is the sweetest, prettiest, shyest little thing you ever saw! 'Clinging rosebud' just fits her."
"Indeed!" said Kitty, who had suddenly lost interest in the conversation. And indeed, few girls of Kitty's disposition would have enjoyed this enthusiastic eulogy of another.
"I don't admire that sort, myself," went on Rob, who was tactfully observant; "I like a little more spirit and vivacity." Kitty beamed once more. "But she's a wonder, of her own class. I was there at dinner last night, you know, and I saw her for the first time. And, though I thought nothing of it at the time, I can look back now and see that she adores Schuyler. Why, she scarcely took her eyes off him at dinner, and she ate next to nothing. Poor little girl, I believe she was awfully cut up at his approaching marriage."
"And what was Schuyler's attitude toward her?" Kitty was interested enough now.
Fessenden looked very grave and was silent for a time.
"It's a beastly thing to say," he observed at last, "but if Schuyler had been in love with that girl, and wanted to conceal the fact, he couldn't have acted differently from the way he did act."
"Was he kind to her?"
"Yes, kind, but with a restrained air, as if he felt it his duty to show indifference toward her."
"Was she with you after dinner?"
Fessenden thought.
"I went to my room early; and Mrs. Carleton had then already excused herself. Yes,—I left Schuyler and Miss Burt in the drawing-room, and later I saw them from my window, strolling through the rose-garden."
"On his wedding eve!" exclaimed Kitty, with a look akin to horror in her eyes.
"Yes; and I thought nothing of it, for I simply assumed that he was devoted to Miss Van Norman, and was merely pleasant to his mother's companion. But—in view of something Miss Van Norman said to me yesterday—can it be it was only yesterday?— the matter becomes serious."
"What did she say?"
"It seems like betraying a confidence, and yet it isn't, for we must discover if it means anything. But she said to me, with real agitation, 'Do you know Dorothy Burt?' At that time, I hadn't met Miss Burt, and had never heard of her, so I said: 'No; who is she?' 'Nobody,' said Miss Van Norman, 'less than nobody! Never mention her to me again!' Her voice, even more than her words, betokened grief and even anger, so of course the subject was dropped. But doesn't that prove her anxious about the girl, if not really jealous?"
"Of course it does," said Kitty. "I know that's the one that has been troubling Madeleine. Oh, how dreadful it all is!"
"And then, too," Fessenden said, still reminiscently, "Miss Van Norman said she wanted to go away from Mapleton immediately after her wedding, and never return here again."
"Did she say that! Then, of course, it was only so that Schuyler should never see the Burt girl again. Poor, dear Maddy; she was so proud, and so self-contained. But how she must have suffered! You see, she knew Schuyler admired her, and respected her and all that, and she must have thought that, once removed from the presence of the rosebud girl, he would forget her."
"But I can't understand old Schuyler marrying Miss Van Norman if he didn't truly love her. You know, Miss French, that man and I have been stanch friends for years; and though I rarely see him, I know his honorable nature, and I can't believe he would marry one woman while