“It implies something of the sort. And Barry has no alibi.”
“Of course not,” Pollard said; “an innocent man doesn’t have. I mean, an innocent man is very likely not to know where he was at any given time. It’s your criminal who has his alibi at his tongue’s end.”
“I’m going over to the Lindsay house now,” Lane said, rising. “Want to go along, Pol?”
“No, not this time. If you’re going to quiz Miss Lindsay I’d rather not be there. And you said yourself you’d rather be alone.”
“Right. But I’m going to ask Mrs Lindsay a few questions, too. After all, she and Miss Phyllis are the only heirs.”
“Meaning one of them is doubtless the criminal!” Dean Monroe spoke scornfully.
“Oh, I don’t say that,” Lane returned, “but there’s lots to see about.”
Others than Lane were of this mind, for when the lawyer reached the Lindsay home, he found Belknap and Prescott both there, and the Lindsay ladies, as a result of their visitors’ questions, both in a highly excited state.
“I’m glad to see you, Mr Lane,” Millicent cried, as Lane entered; “do help Phyllis and me. These men are saying awful things to us!”
“To me,” Phyllis corrected. “They’ve nothing against you, Millicent.”