The Complete Detective Fleming Stone Series (All 17 Books in One Edition). Carolyn Wells

moreover, it was a wicked-looking affair, and many people had shuddered as they touched it. It had a history, too, and Richard Van Norman used to tell his guests of dark deeds in which the dagger had taken part while it was still in Italy.

      Madeleine herself had had a horror of the weapon, though she had often admitted the fascination of its marvellous workmanship, and had said upon several occasions that the thing fairly hypnotized her, and some day she should kill herself or somebody else with it.

      From an instinctive sense of duty, Marie started forward, as if to help her mistress, then with a convulsive shudder she screamed again and clasped her hands before her eyes to shut out the awful sight.

      Cicely, too, moved slowly toward the silent figure, then turned and again gazed steadfastly at Schuyler Carleton.

      There must have been interrogation in her eyes, for the man pointed toward the table, and Cicely looked again, to notice there a bit of paper with writing on it.

      She made no motion toward it, but the expression on her face changed to one of bewildered surprise. Before she had time to speak, however, the other people of the house all at once began to gather in the hall.

      Mrs. Markham came first, and though when she saw Madeleine she turned very white and seemed about to faint, she bravely went at once toward the girl, and gently tried to raise the fallen head.

      She felt a firm grasp on her shoulder, and turned to see Miss Morton, with a stern, set face, at her side.

      "Don't touch her," said Miss Morton, in a whisper. "Telephone for a doctor quickly."

      "But she's dead," declared Mrs. Markham, at the same time bursting into violent sobs.

      "We do not know; we hope not," went on Miss Morton, and without another word she led Mrs. Markham to a sofa, and sat her down rather suddenly, and then went herself straight to the telephone.

      As she reached it she paused only to inquire the name of the family physician.

      Harris, the butler, with difficulty articulated the name of Doctor Hills and his telephone number, and without further inquiry Miss Morton called for him.

      "Is this Doctor Hills?" she said when her call was answered. "Yes; this is the Van Norman house. Come here at once. . . . No matter; you must come at once—it is very important—a matter of life and death. . . . I am Miss Morton. I am in charge here. Yes, come immediately! Good-by."

      Miss Morton hung up the receiver and turned to the frightened group of servants.

      "You can do nothing," she said, "and you may as well return to your rooms. Harris may stay, and one of the parlor maids."

      Miss Morton had an imperious air, and instinctively the servants obeyed her.

      But Cicely Dupuy was not so ready to accept the dictum of a stranger. She stepped forward and, facing Miss Morton, said quietly, "Mrs. Markham is housekeeper, as well as Miss Van Norman's chaperon. The servants are accustomed to take their orders from her."

      Miss Morton returned Cicely's direct gaze. "You see Mrs. Markham," she said, pointing to the sofa, where that lady had entirely collapsed, and, with her head in a pillow, was shaking with convulsive sobs. "She is for the moment quite incapable of giving orders. As the oldest person present, and as a life-long friend of Mr. Richard Van Norman, I shall take the liberty of directing affairs in the present crisis." Then, in a softer tone and with a glance toward Madeleine, Miss Morton continued, "I trust in view of the awfulness of the occasion you will give me your sympathy and cooperation, that we may work in harmony."

      Cicely gave Miss Morton a curious glance that might have meant almost anything, but with a slight inclination of her head she said only, "Yes, madam."

      Then Kitty French and Molly Gardner came downstairs and stood trembling on the threshold.

      "What is it?" whispered Kitty. "What's the matter with Madeleine?"

      "Something dreadful has happened," said Miss Morton, meeting them at the door. "I have telephoned for Doctor Hills and he will be here soon. Until then we can do nothing."

      "But we can try to help Maddy," exclaimed Kitty, starting toward the still figure by the table. "Oh, is she hurt? I thought she had fainted!"

      As the two girls saw the dread sight, Miss Gardner fainted herself, and Miss Morton bade Marie, who stood shivering in the hall, take care of her.

      Relieved at having something to do, Marie shook the girl and dashed water in her face until she regained consciousness, the others, meanwhile, paying little attention.

      Schuyler Carleton stood leaning against the doorpost, his eyes fixed on Madeleine's tragic figure, while Kitty French, who had dropped into a chair, sat with her hands tightly clasped, also gazing at the sad picture.

      Although it seemed hours to those who awaited him, it was but a few moments before the doctor came.

      Doctor Hills was a clean-cut, alert-looking young man, and his quick eyes seemed to take in every detail of the scene at a glance.

      He went straight to the girl at the table and bent over her. Only the briefest examination was necessary before he said gently, "She is quite dead. She has been stabbed with this dagger. It entered a large blood vessel just over her heart, and she bled to death. Who killed her?"

      Even as he spoke his eye fell on the written paper which lay on the table. With one of his habitually quick gestures he snatched it up and read it to himself, while a look of great surprise dawned on his face. Immediately he read it aloud:

      I am wholly miserable, and unless the clouds lift I must end my life. I love S., but he does not love me.

      After he finished reading, Doctor Hills stood staring at the paper, and looked utterly perplexed.

      "I should have said it was not a suicide," he declared, "but this message seems to indicate that it is. Is this written in Miss Van Norman's hand?" Miss Morton, who stood at the doctor's side, took the paper and scrutinized it.

      "It is," she said. "Yes, certainly that is Miss Van Norman's writing. I had a letter from her only a few days ago, and I recognize it perfectly."

      "Let me see it," said Mrs. Markham, in a determined, though rather timid way. "I am more familiar with Madeleine's writing than a stranger can possibly be."

      Miss Morton handed the paper to the housekeeper without a word, while the doctor, waiting, wondered why these two women seemed so out of sympathy with each other.

      "Yes, it is surely Madeleine's writing," agreed Mrs. Markham, her glasses dropping off as her eyes filled with tears.

      "Then I suppose she killed herself, poor girl," said the doctor. "She must have been desperate, indeed, for it was a strong blow that drove the steel in so deeply. Who first discovered her here?"

      "I did," said Schuyler Carleton, stepping forward. His face was almost as white as the dead girl's, and he was scarcely able to make his voice heard. "I came in with a latch-key, and found her here, just as you see her now."

      As Carleton spoke Cicely Dupuy stared at him with that curious expression that seemed to show something more than grief and horror. Her emotional bewilderment was not surprising in view of the awful situation, but her look was a strange one, and for some reason it greatly disconcerted the man.

      None of this escaped the notice of Doctor Hills. Looking straight at Carleton, but with a kindly expression replacing the stern look on his face, he went on:

      "And when you came in, was Miss Van Norman just as we see her now?"

      "Practically," said Carleton. "I couldn't believe her dead. And I tried to rouse her. Then I saw the dagger on the floor at her feet—"

      "On the floor?" interrupted Doctor Hills.

      "Yes," replied Carleton, whose agitation was increasing, and who had sunk into a chair because of sheer inability to stand. "It was on the floor at her feet—right at her feet. I picked it up, and there was blood on it—there is blood on it—and I laid it on the table. And then I saw the