The direct question had struck home. She was
confused.
"Why,--Alix,--I--what a silly thing to ask. What has David to do
with it?"
Alix was still looking at her, broodingly. "Why don't you like him,
Aunt Nancy?"
"Have I ever said I didn't like him?"
"No. But I know. I know that Charlie Webster does not like him. I
knew that Addison did not like him."
Mrs. Strong could not resist the impulse to add: "And Sergeant did
not like him."
"And you think THAT convicts him?" said the girl, half ironically.
"I have a good deal of faith in dogs," muttered Mrs. Strong,
flushing.
Alix's gaze went to the huge vase of roses on the table. Then she
turned quickly to look once more into her companion's eyes.
"You believe that Courtney poisoned him, don't you?"
"I have no more reason for believing it than you have, Alix,"
returned Mrs. Strong calmly.
"Why,--why do you say that?" cried the girl, startled.
"Because you would not have asked the question if you hadn't
been--well, wondering a little yourself, Alix."
"Oh,--I don't want to think it," cried Alix miserably. "I don't
want to think of it!"
"No more do I want to think it. Listen to me, Alix. I confess that
I do not like this man. I have no way of explaining my feeling
toward him. He has always been polite and agreeable to me. He has
never done a thing that I can call to mind that would set me against
him.
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