“Oh, not Mrs. Wheeler!” groaned Jeff Allen. “That dear, sweet woman couldn’t——”
“Incapable of murder, I s’pose!” ironically said Burdon. “Let me tell you, sir, many a time a dear, sweet woman has done extraordinary things for the sake of her husband or children.”
“But what motive would Mrs. Wheeler have?”
“The same as the others. Appleby was a thorn in their flesh, an enemy of many years’ standing. And I’ve heard hints of another reason for the family’s hating him, besides that conditional pardon business. But no matter about that now. What I want is evidence against somebody—against one of three suspects. Until I get some definite evidence I can’t tell which of the three is most likely the one.”
“Seems to me the fact that Mrs. Wheeler ran downstairs and back again is enough to indicate some pretty close questioning of her,” suggested Hallen.
“Oh, please,” begged Allen, “she’s so upset and distracted——”
“Of course she is. But that’s the reason we must ask her about it now. When she gets calmed down, and gets a fine yarn concocted, there’ll be small use asking her anything!”
“I’d tackle the old man first,” said Hallen; “I think, on general principles, he’s the one to make inquiries of before you go to the ladies. Let’s go to him now.”
“No;” proposed Burdon, “let’s send for him to come here. This is away from the house, and we can talk more freely.”
“I’ll go for him,” offered Allen, seeing they were determined to carry out their plan.