“Whom do they suspect?” gasped Dorothy.
“I imagine Dr. Noyes.”
“Dr. Noyes!” in profound astonishment. “Why?”
“Chiefly because of his sudden departure without bidding anyone good-by.”
“But—but—the motive? Heavens! Did he know Bruce?” And Vera leaned forward from the taxi, so that the moonlight fell full on her face.
“He met him last night,” with dry emphasis, and Dorothy moved restlessly. “Listen, Dorothy, I can stay but a moment longer. If you should be questioned, remember that at the inquest I did not mention that I had ever seen Bruce Brainard before last night, and that I have not confided to anyone in the Porter house that I ever heard of him before.”
“But—but—Hugh knows.”
“Hugh Wyndham!” Vera clutched the door of the car for support. “Did you tell him tonight?”
“No, I haven’t seen him for over a week. I—” But Vera did not give her time to finish her sentence.
“Dorothy, were you so foolish—my God! you didn’t mention names to Hugh?”