The colonel was silent; there was nothing discreditable in these details. He had known before that Janet Smith was poor; that she had been thrown on the world early; that she must earn her own livelihood; yet, somehow, as Birdsall marshaled the facts, there was an insidious, malarious hint of the adventuress, bandied from place to place, hawking her attractions about, wheedling, charming for hire, entrapping imbecile young cubs—Larry Hastings wasn’t more than twenty-two—somehow he felt a revolt against the picture and against the man submitting it—and, confound Millicent!
The detective changed the manner of his questions a little. “I suppose your aunt is pretty advanced in years, though she is as well preserved an old lady as I have ever met, and as shrewd. Say, wouldn’t she be likely to leave the boy a lot of money?”
“I dare say.” The colonel was conscious of an intemperate impulse to kick Birdsall, who had been such a useful fellow in the Philippines.
“If anything was to happen to him, who would get the money?”
“Well, Mrs. Melville and I are next of kin,” returned the colonel dryly. “Do you suspect us?”
“I did look up Mrs. Melville,” answered the unabashed detective, “but I guess she’s straight goods all right. But say, how about Miss Smith?”
The colonel stared, then he laughed. “Birdsall,” said he, “there’s somewhat too much mention of ladies’ names to suit my Virginian taste. But if you mean to imply that Miss Smith is going to kill Archie to get my aunt’s money, I can tell you you are ’way off! Your imagination is too active for your profession. You ought to hire out to the yellow journals.”
His employer’s satire did not even flick the dust off Birdsall’s complacency; he grinned cheerfully. “Oh, I’m not so bad as that; I don’t suppose she did kill the boy; I think he’s alive, all right. But say, Colonel, I’ll give it to you straight; I do think the señora coaxed the boy off. You admit, don’t you, he went off. Well, then he was coaxed, somehow. Now, who’s got influence enough to coax him? You cross out the maid; so do I. You cross out Mrs. Melville Winter; so do I. I guess we both cross out the old lady. Well, there’s you and the señora left. I don’t suspect you, General.”
“Really? I don’t see why. I stand to make more than anybody else, if you are digging up motives. And how about the chambermaid?”
Birdsall flashed a glance of reproach on his companion. “Now, Colonel, do you think I ain’t looked her up? First thing. Nothing in it. Decent Vermont girl, three years in the hotel. Came for her lungs. She ain’t in it. But let’s get back to Miss Smith. Did you know she is Cary Mercer’s sister-in-law?”