SIGNED, VERONICA


I am in some ways hypersensitive. Among my other weaknesses I have
a wholesome dread of ridicule, and this is probably why I failed to
press my theory on the captain when he appeared, and even forbore
to mention the various small matters which had so attracted my
attention. If he and the experienced men who came with him saw
suicide and nothing but suicide in this lamentable shooting of a
bride of two weeks, then it was not for me to suggest a deeper
crime, especially as one of the latter eyed me with open scorn when
I proposed to accompany them upstairs into the room where the light
had been seen burning. No, I would keep my discoveries to myself
or, at least, forbear to mention them till I found the captain
alone, asking nothing at this juncture but permission to remain in
the house till Mr. Jeffrey arrived.

I had been told that an officer had gone for this gentleman, and
when I heard the sound of wheels in front I made a rush for the
door, in my anxiety to catch a glimpse of him. But it was a woman
who alighted.

As this woman was in a state of great agitation, one of the men
hastened down to offer his arm. As she took it, I asked Hibbard,
who had suddenly reappeared upon the scene, who she was.

He said that she was probably the sister of the woman who lay
inside. Upon which I remembered that this lady, under the name of
Miss Tuttle - she was but half-sister to Miss Moore - had been
repeatedly mentioned by the reporters, in the accounts of the