seemed to Crane, despite his long years of training in self-control, that his face must have betrayed his surprise at Mrs. Carter's astonishing revelation, but he did not permit his glance to waver, and his voice was as steady as her own calm one. “You did not hold any conversation with Mrs. Sowerby when you came upon her in the dressing room?”
“No. There are two rest rooms, you know, and I had been reclining in the other one; I merely glanced in her room as I passed. I do not know when she went downstairs. As I told you, the sound of the shot, just as I reached the bottom, stunned me so that I was practically oblivious to everything about me for some little time. But in what way can I help you, Mr. Crane?” She hesitated and then added: “I trust the matter will be cleared up soon and the murderer discovered, not only in the interests of justice, but because I am thinking of going away.”
She glanced off as she spoke toward the little cottage, half hidden among the bare trees, and there was an unmistakable note of wistfulness in her tones. The controversy, which he had overheard in part in the glen that morning, returned to the detective's mind, and her final words rang again in his ears: “The world is wide and Broadlawns is only a tiny corner of it.” Had she defied Dorrance to the end, and would what he meant to tell run her and drive her forth from her quiet home?
“Isn't your decision rather a hasty one, Mrs. Carter?” His tone was that of studied indifference, but the one in which she replied was slightly shaken.
“No. I have not discussed it, but for some time I have considered returning to my old home. As soon as I can arrange my affairs and dispose of my little place here I am going back.”
“To Raleigh?”
“Who told you I came from there?” Her voice had steadied once more, but each word came slowly as though carefully chosen. “As a matter of fact we lived quite a little way out in the country, several miles from any one, except negroes and what are known down there as 'poor whites.' However, after my husband's death, I transacted my financial affairs with bankers in Raleigh and naturally gave them as my business reference on coming here.”
“You had friends here, Mrs. Carter? Why did you select Broadlawns as your home?”
“A mere whim.” A little twisted smile came to her lips. “I wanted to get away from the South and everything that would remind me of it. I had seen pictures of the Broadlawns Country Club at the time of a golf tournament, several years ago, and, when I came to New York, an agent for suburban real estate whom I consulted had this cottage on his list. I came out to see it and was charmed by the whole atmosphere of the place, but of late I find that I have been growing homesick, and the climate does not agree with me. As soon as I am no longer needed as a witness for that tragic affair at the club I want to return to North Carolina.”
“Yet if you were so anxious to get away from everything that reminded you of the South, you could not have been very happy there.” Crane remarked. “You must forgive these personal questions, Mrs. Carter, but I shall have to make out the fullest possible report for my chief concerning every one who was on the scene of the crime.”
“I quite understand,” she replied. “My married life was not altogether happy, chiefly because of the loneliness and isolation in which my husband lived. He was elderly and had many eccentricities, but, after his death, I found pleasant friends in Raleigh during the short period of my stay there, and those I have made here are less congenial.”
“What was your husband's full name, Mrs. Carter, and when did he die?”
“Asa Carter; his death took place about three and a half years ago. My maiden name was Nina Shirley, and I came from Charlotte. I was an orphan when I married Mr. Carter, eleven years ago. Doubtless some of my former school friends in Charlotte would remember me, but I have seen none of them since my marriage. My husband would tolerate no visitors, and my desultory correspondence soon languished. Our nearest post-office address, by the way, was a tiny hamlet called Mosely. I think, Mr. Crane, that that is all the information I can give you.”
Her air of finality was pointed, but the detective made no move to depart. Instead he asked: “Do you know of any enmity which you may have incurred, Mrs. Carter, either here, or elsewhere? Is there any one, man or woman, to whom you may, however unconsciously, have given cause to harm you?”