Free The Clue by Carolyn Wells Page B

been held by some other hand. If merely stains, as from the floor, they might be considered to strengthen Doctor Hill’s theory.”
    The Venetian paper-cutter was produced and passed around.
    None of the women would touch it or even look at it, except Kitty French. She examined it carefully, but had no opinion to offer, and Mr. Benson waited impatiently for her to finish her scrutiny. He had no wish to hear her remarks on the subject, for he deemed her a mere frivolous girl, who had no business to take any part in the serious inquiry. All were requested not to touch the weapon, which was passed round on a brass tray taken from the library table.
    Schuyler Carleton covered his eyes, and refused to glance at it.
    Tom Willard and Robert Fessenden looked at it at the same time, holding the tray between them.
    â€œI make out no finger-prints,” said Tom, at last. “Do you?”
    â€œNo,” said Fessenden; “that is, not surely. These may be marks of fingers, but they are far too indistinct to say so positively. What do you think, Doctor Leonard?”
    The gruesome property was passed on to the two doctors, who examined it with the greatest care. Going to the window, they looked at it with magnifying glasses, and finally reported that the slight marks might be fingermarks, or might be the abrasion of the nap of the rug on which the dagger had fallen.
    â€œThen,” said Coroner Benson, “we have, so far, no evidence which refutes the theory that Miss Van Norman’s written message was the expression of her deliberate intent, and that that intention was fulfilled by her.”
    Once more Mr. Benson scanned intently the faces of his audience.
    â€œCan no one, then,” he said again, “assert or suggest anything that may have any bearing on this written message?”
    â€œI can,” said Robert Fessenden.

VIII
    A SOFT LEAD PENCIL
    CORONER BENSON LOOKED AT the young man curiously. Knowing him to be a stranger in the household, he had not expected information from him.
    â€œYour name?” he said quietly.
    â€œI am Robert Fessenden, of New York City. I am a lawyer by profession, and I came to Mapleton yesterday for the purpose of acting as best man at Mr. Carleton’s wedding. I came here this morning, not knowing of what had occurred in the night, and after conversation with some members of the household I felt impelled to investigate some points which seemed to me mysterious. I trust I have shown no intrusive curiosity, but I confess to a natural detective instinct, and I noticed some peculiarities about that paper you hold in your hand to which I should like to call your attention.”
    Fessenden’s words caused a decided stir among his hearers, including the coroner and the two doctors.
    Mr. Benson was truly anxious to learn what the young man had to say, but at the same time his professional jealousy was aroused by the implication that there was anything to be learned from the paper itself, outside of his own information concerning it.
    â€œI was told,” he said quickly, “that this paper is positively written in Miss Van Norman’s own hand.”
    Robert Fessenden, while not exactly a handsome man, was of a type that impressed every one pleasantly. He was large and blond, and had an air that was unmistakably cultured and exceedingly well-bred. Conventionality sat well upon him, and his courteous self-assurance had in it no trace of egotism or self-importance. In a word, he was what the plain-spoken people of Mapleton called citified, and though they sometimes resented this combination of personal traits, in their hearts they admired and envied it.
    This was why Coroner Benson felt a slight irritation at the young man’s savoir faire ,and at the same time a sense of satisfaction that there was promise of some worth-while help.
    â€œI was told so, too,” said Fessenden, in response to the coroner’s remark, “and as I have never seen