We have an idea that she may have planted those
garments in the boat in order to throw people off the track."
"Oh, she--she wouldn't have done that," cried the woman. "She
couldn't be so heartless."
"You overlook the possibility that her mind may be affected. Dementia
frequently takes the form of--er--you might say unnatural cunning."
"I'll speak to Mrs. Vick. There's a scrap-book of Kodak pictures
there on the table. I was looking through it today. She and her
brother, Cale, made heaps of pictures. You might be looking through
it while I go upstairs."
Thane was lighting a cigarette.
"Have you told Miss Crown that I am here?" asked he, as she started
toward the stairs.
"She says she'll be down in a few minutes. Mrs. Vick wants to see
you before you go."
The two reporters were examining the contents of the scrap-book.
The younger of the two was standing at the end of the little
marble-topped table, his body screening the book from Courtney's
view.
There were a number of loose prints lying between the leaves toward
the end of the book. Rosabel had neglected to paste them in. The
man with the horn-rimmed spectacles ran through them hastily. He
stealthily slipped two of these prints up his sleeve.
Thane would have been startled could he have seen those prints. They
were not pictures of Rosabel Vick, but fair-sized, quite excellent
likenesses of himself!
The woman returned to say that Mrs.
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