This was, of course, the one solution that would make them all happy again!
So it was with a look of real happiness on her thin, intelligent face that she took the paper into the dining room just after the doctor and his wife had sat down to breakfast.
“There’s something just here,” she exclaimed, “that I doubt whether you’ll approve, doctor. But I’m thinking it will make you happy all the same.”
Without waiting for an answer, she went out of the room, and Mrs. Maclean jumped from her chair and came round to where her husband, an air of astonishment on his face, was staring with angry, disgusted eyes at the picture of Bonnie Doon. Then, together, they eagerly read the article which purported to contain a statement by Jean Bower.
“Whoever do you think wrote this?” asked Mrs. Maclean at last. “Of course there’s a lot in it that’s true, but I’d stake my life that Jean hasn’t talked about this terrible business to any human being. I know she has absolutely refused to discuss it with Miss Prince, though the woman’s been at her again and again about it.”
For a few moments Dr. Maclean remained silent. Half mechanically he was reading over and over again the phrases in the so-called statement that puzzled him the most.
Then at last he looked up.
“This is the work of a practised literary hand—maybe I ought to say of a practised literary hack!” he exclaimed.
“I’ll tell you who I think did it, or maybe had it done,” said Mrs. Maclean slowly. “I think ’twas that man Kentworthy or someone he employed to write it.”
The doctor struck his hand on the table.