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Updated: September 15, 2025
"Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left, "and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand. Ah, here he comes...."
"When did you discover Sinclair Spencer in the elevator, Kathleen?" asked Miss Kiametia. "When I went to find Julie on Wednesday morning," began Kathleen.
Miss Kiametia kissed her tenderly. "How did you get that scar on your finger, Trent?" inquired Foster. "While on a hunting trio with my father in the interior of South America my cousin and I, then fifteen and sixteen respectively, played a trick on one of our Indian guides.
"That Kathleen worships the ground he walks on." "Too bad." Foster sat back, looking troubled. "Too, too bad." "What's this? A deathbed repentance? You introduced Miller in Washington," and the spinster's sharp eyes bored into him. Foster moved uncomfortably. "I am sincerely sorry," he mumbled. "I have been grossly deceived." "Humph!" Miss Kiametia moved closer to his side.
She is waiting for us in the corridor. Come along." As they joined Mrs. Whitney, a young man hurried up to them. "I am Senator Foster's secretary," he explained. "The Senator has gone direct to the dining-room on the ground floor. This way, please," and he piloted them to an elevator. On reaching the private dining-room of the Senate they found not only Foster but Miss Kiametia Grey awaiting them.
"At what hour did the members of your club depart?" "A little before one o'clock, Wednesday morning." "Then did you go direct to bed?" "No, I first showed Miss Kiametia Grey who, owing to an attack of faintness, was spending the night at my home, to her room; then I retired." "Were you aware that Mr. Spencer was also spending the night under your roof?"
"Have you seen Captain Charles Miller?" he asked eagerly, omitting other greeting. "No," they replied in concert. "Strange! I saw him enter the front door half an hour ago, using a latchkey." "Charles Miller with a latchkey of this house!" gasped Miss Kiametia. "Yes," declared Mitchell, "and I have searched the house and cannot find him." "Perhaps he came to see Kathleen," suggested Foster.
Careful of that step," and as the morgue master appeared, he asked, "Is Miss Kiametia Grey here?" "Yes, Doctor." "Then ask her to come in." He exchanged a few remarks with the deputy coroner in a tone too low to reach the ears of the attentive reporters, then turned back to the witness chair as Miss Kiametia seated herself.
Her feminine curiosity was instantly aroused at his quick change of expression. "Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of himself." "Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster talks always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I sometimes wonder...."
"Hush!" placing her hand over Mrs. Whitney's mouth. "My affairs sink into insignificance alongside of Dad's illness." "You are such a blessing, Kathleen," squeezing her hand fondly. "Then let us forget there is such a thing as money difficulties, and turn to...." "Me!" exclaimed a voice by the door, and Miss Kiametia Grey advanced further into the room.
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