“Certainly, sir,” said Gregory Hall, with an air of polite indifference.
“And I may as well tell you at the outset,” went on Mr. Goodrich, a little irritated at the young man's attitude, “that you, Mr. Hall, are under suspicion.”
“Yes?” said Hall interrogatively. “But I was not here that night.”
“That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you refuse to say where you were. Now, wherever you may have been that night, a frank admission of it will do you less harm than this incriminating concealment of the truth.”
“In that case,” said Hall easily, “I suppose I may as well tell you. But first, since you practically accuse me, may I ask if any new developments have been brought to light?”
“One has,” said Mr. Goodrich. “The missing will has been found.”
“What?” cried Hall, unable to conceal his satisfaction at this information.
“Yes,” said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly apparent mercenary spirit of the man; “yes, the will of Mr. Joseph Crawford, which bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe in Mr. Randolph's possession. But that fact in no way affects your connection with the case, or our desire to learn where you were on Tuesday night.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich; I didn't hear all that you said.”
Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a clever way to gain time for consideration, and yet let his answers appear spontaneous.