Thorne did not speak until after lighting his cigar. “Are you quite sure that Noyes was hiding?”
“He must have been, for we sent out a general call to police headquarters throughout the country to look for him, and no trace of him has been reported. Also, doctor, no one has reported seeing him leave the Porter house Tuesday morning. How did he get to Washington? Where did he take the train for New York?”
Thorne stared thoughtfully at his highball and twirled the glass about several times before speaking.
“I don’t know that this has any bearing on the case,” he said. “But one of my patients told me today that an old country place in Maryland just across the river has been bought by an Englishman named Galbraith—my patient has seen Dr. Noyes and Galbraith motoring together and—Galbraith owns a motor power boat.”
“Oh!” Mitchell produced his memorandum book and made an entry in it. “I believe you’ve hit the trail, doctor,” he exclaimed a moment later. “I didn’t see Dr. Noyes again as, after reviving Miss Porter from her feinting spell, he went up to Craig Porter’s room, and Murray told me an hour ago that the doctor was still in the sick room and could not be called away.”
“I wish”—Thorne paused to knock the ash from his cigar—“I wish Dr. Noyes had delayed his return just one hour.”
“Why?”
“Because”—Thorne picked his words with care—“because I was called in by Mrs. Porter to attend her son, and I would have liked to have the case.”
Mitchell looked at him amusedly. “What, do you desire to pour coals of fire on Mrs. Porter’s head by curing her son, or”—his eyes twinkling as he scanned Thorne, whose air of distinction was enhanced by his well-cut evening clothes—“do you wish to have your hereditary enemy at your mercy?”
“Perhaps.” Thorne’s firm mouth relaxed into a warm, bright smile, which cloaked his abrupt change of subject. “Do you think that Noyes is implicated in Brainard’s murder?”