my part, he does."

"It is all nonsense," said Sylvia. "Whatever Hannah Simmons is
keeping to herself, it isn't killing another woman, or knowing that
Lucinda Hart did it. There was no reason for either of those women to
kill Miss Farrel, and folks don't do such awful things without
reason, unless they're crazy, and it isn't likely that Lucinda and
Hannah have both come down crazy together, and I know it ain't in the
Hart family, or the Simmons. What if poor Lucinda did give Miss
Farrel some essence of peppermint? I gave some to Henry night before
last, when he had gas in his stomach, and it didn't kill him."

"What they claim is that arsenic was in the peppermint," said Horace,
in an odd, almost indifferent voice.

"Arsenic in the peppermint!" repeated Sylvia. "You needn't tell me
Lucinda Hart put arsenic in the peppermint, though I dare say she had
some in the house to kill rats. It's likely that old tavern was
overrun with them, and I know she lost her cat a few weeks ago. She
told me herself. He was shot when he was out hunting. Lucinda thought
somebody mistook him for a skunk. She felt real bad about it. I feel
kind of guilty myself. I can't help thinking if I'd just looked round
then and hunted up a kitten for poor Lucinda, she never would have
had any need to keep rat poison, and nobody would have suspected her
of such an awful thing. I suppose Albion Bennet right up and told
she'd bought it, first thing. I think he might have kept still, as
long as he'd boarded with Lucinda, and as many favors as she'd showed
him. He knew as well as anybody that she never gave it to Miss
Farrel."

"Now, Sylvia, he had to tell if he was asked," Henry said,
soothingly, for Sylvia was beginning to show signs of hysterical
excitement. "He couldn't do anything else."

"He could have forgot," Sylvia returned, shrilly. "Men ain't so awful
conscientious about forgetting. He could have forgot."

"He had to tell," repeated Henry. "Don't get all wrought up over it,
Sylvia."

"I can't help it. I begin to feel guilty myself. I know I might have
found a kitten. I had a lot on my mind, with moving and everything,
but I might have done it. Albion Bennet never had the spunk to do
anything but tell all he knew. I suppose he was afraid of his own
precious neck."

"Ain't it most time to see about dinner?" asked Henry.

Then Sylvia went out of the room with a little hysterical twitter
like a scared bird, and the two men were left alone.