“The president of the company is the Mr. Borland whom I mentioned,” replied Mr. Winslow. “He is a man of about forty, I should say, and is reputed to own a majority of the—”
“Oh, father,” interrupted Miss Winslow, who had caught the drift of the conversation in spite of the pains that had been taken to keep it away from her, “Mr. Borland would never dream of such a thing. It is wrong even to think of it.”
“I didn’t say that he would, my dear,” corrected Mr. Winslow gently. “Professor Kennedy asked me who was chiefly interested in the rubber works and Mr. Borland owns a majority of the stock.” He leaned over and whispered to Kennedy, “Borland is a visitor at our home, and between you and me, he thinks a great deal of Ruth.”
I looked quickly at Kennedy, but he was absorbed in looking out of the car window at the landscape which he did not and could not see.
“You said there were others who had an interest in outside companies,” cross-questioned Kennedy. “I take it that you mean companies dealing in crude rubber, the raw material, people with investments in plantations and concessions, perhaps. Who are they? Who were the men who went on that expedition to the Congo with Borland which you mentioned?”
“Of course, there was Borland himself,” answered Winslow. “Then there was a young chemist named Lathrop, a very clever and ambitious fellow who succeeded Cushing when he resigned from the works, and Dr. Harris, who was persuaded to go because of his friendship for Borland. After they took up the concession I believe all of them put money into it, though how much I can’t say.”
I was curious to ask whether there were any other visitors at the Winslow house who might be rivals for Ruth’s affections, but there was no opportunity.
Nothing more was said until we arrived at Goodyear.
We found the body of Cushing lying in a modest little mortuary chapel of an undertaking establishment on the main street. Kennedy at once began his investigation by discovering what seemed to have escaped others. About the throat were light discolourations that showed that the young inventor had been choked by a man with a powerful grasp, although the fact that the marks had escaped observation led quite obviously to the conclusion that he had not met his death in that way, and that the marks probably played only a minor part in the tragedy.
Kennedy passed over the doubtful evidence of strangulation for the more profitable examination of the little gash in the wrist.