relating at length the expert's opinion on the letters.

She heard him out in silence; her almond-shaped eyes on his face; and
Anstice omitted nothing of the happenings of that day in town, save his
unexpected meeting with her husband in Piccadilly.

When he had finished Chloe sat quite still for a moment, saying nothing;
and neither of the men dreamed of hurrying her.

At last:

"But, Dr. Anstice--_Tochatti_! Why, she has been with me for years--ever
since I was a child like Cherry!"

Her voice was so full of incredulity that for a moment both her hearers
wondered suddenly how they could have accepted the possibility of
Tochatti's guilt so readily. But Anstice's common sense reasserted
itself immediately; and he knew that the mere fact of Mrs. Carstairs'
unbelief did not really materially alter the main issue. It was natural
she should be surprised, unwilling to believe evil of the woman who,
whatever her faults, had served her faithfully; but this was no time for
sentimentality; and he replied to Chloe's last speech rather
uncompromisingly.

"Even the fact that she has been with you for years does not preclude
the possibility of her doing this thing," he said. "Of course I can
understand you would hesitate to believe her capable of such wickedness,
but----"

"But why should Tochatti wish to work me harm?" Her blue eyes were full
of a kind of hurt wonder. "And these last letters directed against you,
Dr. Anstice--why on earth should she have any spite against you?"

"Dr. Anstice tells me she much resented the presence of the hospital
nurse in the house," chimed in Sir Richard. "Of course she has always
been absurdly jealous of any claim to Cherry's affection--even Iris
noticed that and used to say she hardly dared to pet the child before
Tochatti."

"Yes." Chloe assented reluctantly. "That is quite true. She has always
been jealous; and I confess I once or twice saw her look at Dr. Anstice
with a--well, rather malignant expression. But I thought it was only a
passing jealousy; and judged it best to take no notice."

"Of course all this is very largely conjectural," said Anstice slowly.
"Such evidence as we have is purely circumstantial; and wouldn't hang a
cat. But I admit that Mr. Clive's suggestion carries weight with me; and
it is certainly odd that he should have mentioned an Italian as the
possible author of the letters when there is a person of that
nationality--more or less--in the house."

"Yes. I