. It was she who knew Maxon's propensity for mischief-making
and selected him as a deputy. It was she who threatened Simon, fired
the tannery--but why go on? The two women are simply interchangeable,
and Ocky had only to repeat in her own person the confession she forced
from Janet--"

"Why was she so long suspecting Janet?"

"Huh? Well--if a murder is committed are you apt to suspect a person
you've known as well as you know yourself for twenty-five years? I've
been wondering what first directed Ocky's suspicion to her companion,
and I think I have the answer. The other day when Sherwood was
describing the actions of the monk at the time of the murder, Ocky
suddenly revealed a tremendous lot of emotion; depend upon it,
something he said then must have given her a clue to the truth. And
the incident of the fingerprints on the notebook--change one woman for
the other and that is explained! It was not the cautious Janet that
found the book in Ocky's bureau--it was the heedless Ocky who found it
somewhere among Janet's things and never stopped to think that she was
leaving prints when she picked it up!"

"But--this playing Destiny, as you call it. Ocky could do that without
fear of the consequences, since she believed her days to be numbered,
but could Janet?"

"Why not?" Creighton's voice was still confident but he had begun to
look askance at his friend as he caught a hint of something more
serious behind this inquisition. "Haven't we an explanation for that
in Kitty's telegram? She says 'Janet seemed to go mad'. Isn't that
the whole story after all? Janet was unbalanced; she pondered the
cussedness of Varr; she fell victim to an obsession. She began to
picture herself as a scourge of the unrighteous--she probably read up
on Jael and Charlotte Corday and women like that. Her brain cracked.
I'm not romancing, either. History is full of cold-blooded murders
committed from motives of altruism. Common enough, both the cause and
effect. Anyway, we have Janet's full confession coming to us--" He
broke off short at an involuntary movement on the part of his
friend--and abruptly a fear crept into his eyes. "_Krech_--what are
you thinking of?"

"The same thing you are, Creighton."

"Put it into words!" commanded the detective fiercely.

"You've done it yourself. You have pointed out that the two women are
interchangeable. So they are--even to the point where each makes what
is tantamount to a dying