I don't wonder that you lost your
head, went a little crazy, perhaps--"
The detective's sinister implication seemed to make no impression at all
upon the woman with the scarred face.
"I asked you--" she gasped, her single eye glaring at him, "who dared
say Nita burned me?"
"It was Nita herself who told me," Dundee answered softly. "Just a few
minutes ago."
"Holy Mother!" the maid gasped, and crossed herself dazedly.
Let her think the dead woman had appeared to him in a vision, Dundee
told himself. Perhaps her confession would come the quicker--
The maid began to rock her gaunt body, her arms crossed over her flat
chest. "My poor little girl! Even in death she thinks of me, she's
sorry--. She sent me a message, didn't she? Tell me! She was always
trying to comfort me, sir! The poor little thing couldn't believe I'd
forgiven her as soon as she done it--. Tell me!"
"Yes," Dundee agreed, his eyes watching her keenly. "She sent you a
message--of a sort.... But I can't give it to you until you have told me
all about the--accident in which you were burned."
"I'll tell," Lydia promised eagerly. Gone were the harshness and
secretiveness with which she had met his earlier questioning.... "You
see, sir, I loved Miss Nita--I called her Nita, if you don't mind, sir.
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