“I need not tell you—a doctor—that in the vast majority of cases the death of a man or woman is always of interest, and very often of considerable benefit, to some human being?”
“I see your point,” said the other uneasily.
“In this case,” went on Mr. Kentworthy, “I soon realized that money had played no part at all in the matter I had been sent to investigate.”
He stopped abruptly, hardly knowing how to frame the unpleasant fact he wanted to convey.
At last he said frankly: “You must admit, doctor, that Mrs. Garlett’s death released her husband from a very trying position. It made him a free man.”
“That’s true. Yet I ask you to believe me, Mr. Kentworthy, when I tell you most solemnly that Harry Garlett never longed, even unconsciously, for that sort of freedom. He is a man’s man in daily life; he never seemed in the least interested in women; and there was never the slightest breath of scandal about his name.”
The police inspector looked at him gravely.
“I am sorry to say that you are mistaken, Dr. Maclean. You are evidently not aware that there has been a great deal of gossip, not only since Mrs. Garlett’s death, but even before her death, concerning Mr. Garlett and the young lady to whom he is now engaged.”
Dr. Maclean jumped up from his chair.
“I deny that! I deny it absolutely!”