“Guessing is foolishness,” Pollard remarked, “but don’t you all remember that Davenport mentioned fear as a common motive. I recollect he did, and while I don’t for one minute incline to Barry’s suggestion, yet I can admit the possibility of fear.”
“You mean Doc was afraid of Gleason? Why?” Lane spoke sharply.
“I don’t know why. I don’t know that he was afraid—of Gleason or anybody else. But I do say that he might have been—there are a hundred reasons why a man may be secretly afraid of another man. Who knows the secrets of his neighbor’s heart? I’m making no claim, educing no theory, but it’s at least a fact that Davenport did speak of fear as a motive. Now, I merely say, if you’re going to suspect him, you may as well use that tip. That’s all.”
Pollard smoked on in silence, and each of the four thought over this new idea.
“It’s shocking, that’s what it is, shocking!” exclaimed Dean Monroe, at last. “I’m ashamed of you all, ashamed of myself, for harboring this thought for a minute. Forget it, everybody.”
“Not so fast, Dean,” Barry rebuked him. “Any thought has a right to expression—at the right time and place. I’ve given you this suggestion for what it’s worth. I’ve nothing to base a suspicion on—except that the first man to hear of a crime or to go to the spot is a fair topic to think about.”
“But a doctor—called there!” Monroe went on, “You might as well suspect the police themselves!”
“Yes, if they gave us a surprising story of a man killed by a shot and afterward telephoning for help.”
“That story is fishy,” admitted Lane.
“You bet it is,” assented Barry. “I can’t see that telephoning business at all!”