The maid, who had sat on watch in the upper hall for so many hours the
evening before, was again at her post, but this time with her eye fixed
only on one door, the door behind which slept the exhausted Anitra.
Ransom's room was empty; he was in the sitting-room below, closeted with
the lawyer.
Some one had been there before them. The tray of bottles and glasses had
been removed from the table, and in their place were to be seen a woman's
damaged hat and a small tortoise-shell comb. Mr. Harper's hand was on the
former, which was wound about with a wet veil.
"I think I recognize this," said he. "At least I have a distinct
impression of having seen it before."
"It was picked up with the veil still on it near the entrance of the
lane," explained Ransom.
"Then there can be no doubt that it is the hat Miss Hazen wore during
her journey. She tossed it off the moment her foot touched the ground,
and taking the shawl from her neck pulled it over her head instead. You
remember that she had no hat on when they brought her in."
"I remember. This is Miss Hazen's hat without any doubt."
The lawyer eyed the speaker with curious interest. There was something in
his tone that he did not understand.
"And this?" he ventured, laying a respectful finger on the comb.
"Found in the open field between the house and the mill-stream.
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