Betty shrugged her shoulders. “Which won’t hold water.” Her voice altered and her companions gathered a hint of pent-up passion as she added, in tones which she strove to steady, “Paul’s murder was no motiveless crime.”
“Quite so,” agreed Trenholm. “And that motive was what, Miss Carter?” He waited in vain for an answer, and finally broke the pause. “Paul apparently had no enemies, and yet he was killed,” he said. “Come, Roberts, you’ve known and loved the boy for years; you, Alan, were his first cousin and chum; Miss Carter, his,” he paused, and she looked at him dumbly, “his one love. Among you, can you not tell the motive which inspired Paul’s murder—was it hate, was it revenge, was it greed?”
His deep voice lingered on the last word, then ceased. Roberts had touched him on the arm. At a sign from the physician Trenholm, without moving, turned his head and glanced at the open window. The light from one of the lamps shone directly on the outer blind. It had been turned a crack and in it peered a human eye.
With a spring which carried him halfway across the room, Trenholm gained the hall and threw open the front door, his police dogs at his heels. They swept by him and raced around the house and down the driveway, the sheriff and Roberts behind them. As the dogs gave tongue, a strong, powerful voice called Trenholm’s name.
“Call off your dogs, Trenholm!” And turning his flashlight on the newcomer, the sheriff recognized Alexander Nash, the Rolls-Royce standing down the roadside.
In the library Betty turned aside from her feverish scanning of Trenholm’s papers on the table, to find Alan standing, with his back partly turned, drinking the remaining whisky out of the flask. Betty was by his side in an instant.
“Stop, Alan; you mustn’t!” she pleaded, real terror in her handsome eyes. “You promised me—”
Alexander Nash’s heavy tread, as he and Roberts entered the room, caused her to swing swiftly in their direction.
“Your aunt was alarmed by your absence, Betty,” explained Nash, and his voice sounded loudly in the sudden stillness. “She learned of your trip to the cemetery and sent me to bring you home.”