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124 well as I think I know the family and small as my regard is for most of them, could I believe any one of them capable of conceiving and carrying out such a scheme.

"Gene is too weak and cowardly for one—you see I am perfectly frank with you. The girls are out of it, I'm sure; Nan's only a serious-minded kid, and Cissie is a selfish, calculating little beast, but there is nothing of the potential murderess in her make-up. Aunt Effie is afraid of her own shadow, and she wouldn't hurt a mouse; while as for Dad—well, he worshiped mother, and her death nearly killed him; so if all these accidents were the work of one person that lets him out. Moreover, he wouldn't have deliberately thrown himself downstairs to avert a suspicion which didn't even exist; nor did he have an opportunity last night, as far as I can learn, to tamper with that top step. Old Sam Titheredge stayed overnight and shared his room."

There was something—a touch of cynicism, the shadow of a sneer—in the boy's tone which made Odell scan his face more closely, but he merely asked:

"And the servants?"

"Peters is a pompous old fool, and I think he has only beaten it because he is scared stiff; Marcelle is stupid and shrewd at the same time, like so many of the peasant class in France, but she's loyal and crazy about all of us. Jane is a blockhead; and Gerda—well, what do you think of Gerda yourself, Sergeant?"

A suggestion of that significant cunning smile played once more about his bloodless lips as he put the question; and the detective replied noncommittally:

"She appears to be a very superior sort of maid."

The boy chuckled dryly.