“Something like fifty thousand dollars.”
“Who has been living with Moore?”
“His housekeeper is a middle-aged English woman named Haynie, who has been in his employ since his wife died. He keeps one man, also, who works about the farm and stable. These, with Thorpe, are the only members of his household.”
“Thorpe has not been there much, you say?”
“Only at intervals. I think he has not found the old man congenial, and his persistent absence, which has rather offended Moore, further convinces me that Thorpe knows nothing about the will in his favor.”
“That is a very reasonable inference,” admitted the detective, “and, possibly, does away with a motive. Is Thorpe a man of good character?”
“Yes, and is very generally liked. At the time of Mabel’s marriage he made great efforts to induce her father’s forgiveness; but, Heaven preserve him! One might as well have pleaded to a stone wall. Jacob Moore was as harsh and inflexible as—ah! here is the station! Thorpe will probably send the carriage for us.”
The train was slowing down. The lawyer arose while speaking and began to put on his overcoat. Sheridan Keene restrained him in the aisle for a moment, and said inquiringly:
“So far as you know, then, these are the bare facts?”
“Yes,” said the lawyer quickly. “Do you make anything of them?”