“Was in the very house—at the door of the library in fact—and heard the pistol discharged, if she did not discharge it herself—which some believe, notably the district attorney. You should have been there, Mr. Moore.”
He looked surprised at this suggestion.
“I never am anywhere but here on the twenty-third of May,” he declared.
“Miss Tuttle needed some adviser.”
“Ah, probably.”
“You would have been a good one.”
“And a welcome one, eh?”
I hardly thought he would have been a welcome one, but I did not admit the fact. Nevertheless he seized on the advantage he evidently thought he had gained and added, mildly enough, or rather without any display of feeling:
“Miss Tuttle likes me even less than Veronica did. I do not think she would have accepted, certainly she would not have desired, my presence in her counsels. But of one thing I wish her to be assured, her and the world in general. Any money she may need at this—at this unhappy crisis in her life, she will find amply supplied. She has no claims on me, but that makes little difference where the family honor is concerned. Her mother’s husband was my brother—the girl shall have all she needs. I will write her so.”
He was moving toward his carriage.