But when once convinced of this, the
district attorney's remark was significant.
"I am glad that my name is not Moore."
The superintendent made no reply; his eye had caught mine, and he
had become very thoughtful.
"One of the two candelabra belonging to the parlor mantel was found
lying on that closet floor," he observed. "Somebody has entered
there lately, as lately as the day when Mr. Pfeiffer was seated
here."
"Pardon me," I impetuously cried. "Mr. Pfeiffer's death is quite
explained." And, drawing forward my hand, which up to this moment
I had held tight-shut behind my back, I slowly unclosed it before
their astonished eyes.
A bit of lace lay in my palm, a delicate bit, such as is only worn
by women in full dress.
"Where did you find that?" asked the major, with the first show of
deep emotion I have ever observed in him.
My agitation was greater than his as I replied:
"In the rough boarding under those drawers. Some woman's arm and
hand has preceded mine in stealthy search after that fatal spring.
A woman who wore lace, valuable lace."
There was but one woman connected with this affair who rightly
answered these conditions. The bride! Veronica Moore.
XXIII
WORDS IN THE NIGHT
Had I any premonition of the astounding fact thus suddenly and, I
may say, dramatically revealed to us during the weeks I had devoted
to the elucidation of the causes and circumstances of Mrs.
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