“Good God! what a suggestion. You don’t mean to insinuate that she offered that reward knowing her stepson might be guilty.” Thornton looked at Douglas with sudden horror.
For reply Douglas nodded quietly.
“No, no, Douglas, you are shinning up the wrong tree. I have known Mrs. Winthrop for over fifteen years; she wouldn’t injure a fly, let alone try to trap one whom she loves as her own flesh and blood. She was devoted to her husband, and for his sake legally adopted Philip and brought him up as her own son; in fact, she was entirely too indulgent and generous, which has proved his downfall. He hates work like a nigger.”
“Mr. Hunter has drawn a strong case against Philip Winthrop, except for one serious flaw,” broke in Brett, who had been a silent listener to their argument. “And that is that Philip Winthrop was at the Alibi Club on Monday evening. A number of reputable men are willing to swear to that. It is certain that he could not have been in two places at once. Secondly, Mrs. Winthrop swears that her brother spent Monday evening away from this house.” Brett leaned forward and spoke impressively, “Senator Carew was killed by another hand than Philip Winthrop’s.”
“By whose hand?” asked Thornton and Douglas simultaneously.
“Captain Frederick Lane.”
“Fred Lane, of the Engineer Corps?” ejaculated Thornton, much astonished, while Douglas looked as blank as he felt.
“Yes, sir.”
“Bah! you’re mad.”