else—party or parties unknown, I believe the phrase is—shot Miss Ada immediately afterward—in a spirit of vengeance, perhaps? A crime à quatre mains, so to speak?"
Sibella's confusion was obvious, but her stubborn wrath had in no wise abated.
"Well, if that was the way it happened," she countered malevolently, "it's a rotten shame they didn't do the job better."
"The blunder may at least prove unfortunate for somebody," suggested Vance pointedly. "Still, I hardly think we can seriously entertain the double-culprit theory. Both of your sisters, d' ye see, were shot with the same gun—a .32 revolver—within a few minutes of each other. I'm afraid that we'll have to be content with one guilty person."
Sibella's manner suddenly became sly and calculating.
"What kind of a gun was yours, Chet?" she asked her brother.
"Oh, it was a .32, all right—an old Smith & Wesson revolver." Chester was painfully ill at ease.
"Was it, indeed? Well, that's that." She turned her back on us and went again to the window.
The tension in the room slackened, and Von Blon leaned solicitously over the wounded girl and rearranged the pillows.
"Every one's upset, Ada," he said soothingly. "You mustn't worry about what's happened. Sibella'll be sorry to-morrow and make amends. This affair has got on everybody's nerves."
The girl gave him a grateful glance, and seemed to relax under his ministrations.
