“Hold on there, I’m a relative, also,” objected Potter. “She and my father were second cousins. By the way,” with a complete change of tone, “was there any mention of me in the will?”
“There was not.” At Craige’s curt reply Potter frowned again.
“So she left me out of it, did she?” He shrugged his shoulders with well-simulated indifference. “Did Cousin Susan name an executor and did she leave her fortune to Kitty in trust, or give it to her outright?”
“She left it to Kitty without reservations,” replied Craige. “Kitty applied to the Court to appoint me co-executor with herself, and the court has granted her request and permitted us to-day to take out letters of administration.”
“Is that so.” Potter reached for his hat and buttoned up his overcoat which he had kept on during the interview. “Do I understand, Ted, that you are seriously trying to solve the mystery of Cousin Susan’s murder?”
“I am.”
Potter rose. His usual genial manner was absent and also his ready smile.
“Has it occurred to you, Ted,” he said, and his voice was rasping; “that the person to benefit by Cousin Susan’s death is the one person known to have quarreled with her during the afternoon of the day in which she was murdered?”
“What d’ye mean?” Rodgers was on his feet, advancing toward the naturalist.
“I mean,” Potter spoke with deliberation, his eyes not dropping before Rodgers’ furious gaze. “I mean that Kitty first quarreled with her aunt and now most opportunely inherits her fortune—so that she can marry Leigh Wallace, who can’t afford to marry a poor girl.”