“Well, what if I do?” asked Helen quietly, and Kent, looking around, found her standing just inside the door. Her entrance had been noiseless.
“You should tell the authorities, Helen.” Kent rose as she passed him and selected a seat which brought her face somewhat in shadow. “If you do not you may retard justice.”
“But if I speak I may involve the innocent,” she retorted. “I—” her eyes shifted from him to Barbara and back again. “I cannot undertake that responsibility.”
“Better that than let the guilty escape through your silence,” protested Kent. “Possibly the theories of the police may coincide with yours.
“What are they?” asked Barbara impetuously.
Kent considered before replying. If Detective Ferguson had gone so far as to secure a search warrant to go through Rochester's apartment and office it would not be long before the fact of his being a “suspect” would be common property; there could, therefore, be no harm in his repeating Ferguson's conversation to the twins. In fact, as their legal representative, they were entitled to know the latest developments from him.
“Detective Ferguson believes that the poison was administered by Philip Rochester,” he said finally, and watched to see how the announcement would affect them. Barbara's eyes opened to their widest extent, and back in her corner, into which she had gradually edged her chair, Helen emitted a long, long breath as her taut muscles relaxed.
“What makes Ferguson think Philip guilty?” demanded Barbara.
“It is known that he and Jimmie were not on good terms,” replied Kent. “Then Rochester's disappearance after Jimmie's death lends color to the theory.”
“Has Philip really disappeared?” asked Helen. “You showed me a telegram—”