“She has just been here and insists that we pay her five thousand for some information which she declares will solve the puzzle of poor Carew’s death.”
Eleanor smiled incredulously. “Nonsense, I don’t believe she knows a thing about it.” Her bright color had faded and she gazed anywhere but at the two men.
“It may be,” suggested Douglas thoughtfully, “that while in this house she has found a certain paper for which Brett is searching.”
“That’s possible,” agreed Thornton. “It was announced in yesterday’s papers that a reward of one thousand dollars had been offered. But what gets me is how Annette knew Mrs. Winthrop might raise the amount to five thousand—the very sum, in fact, which she first thought of offering.”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Eleanor frowned in perplexity.
“Is she a good servant?” inquired Douglas.
“I have always found her honest and reliable. She brought me excellent recommendations when she came to me in Paris, where I engaged her,” replied Eleanor.
“It may be that the mystery has gone to her head,” suggested Thornton, “and she is inspired to play detective.”
“Personally, I think she is taking advantage of the present situation to extort money,” objected Douglas.
“I believe you’ve hit it,” exclaimed the older man. “Tell Brett, Douglas, he may be able to induce Annette to tell what she knows. I must go now and see Mrs. Winthrop.”