“No,” said Ellery, “you feel in all directions. That’s the first lesson you learn in this business. Your grandfather knew the scientific name of those spring peepers. It suggests that he may have gone into the subject. So I’d like to know: In those long tramps he takes in the foothill woods, has he been collecting tree frogs?”
Macgowan had gone rather pale and his handsome face looked pained and baffled. “I don’t know.”
“He has a rabbit hutch somewhere near the house, Mac,” said Laurel in a low voice. “We could look.”
“We could, but we’re not going to! I’m not going to! What do you think I am?” His fists were whistling over their heads. “Anyway, suppose he did? It’s a free country, and you said yourself there’s lots of these peepers around!”
“True, true,” Ellery soothed him. “Have another drink. I’ve fallen in love with the old gent myself. Oh, by the way, Laurel.”
“Do I brace myself?” murmured Laurel.
“Well,” grinned Ellery, “I’ll admit my thoughts have sauntered in your direction too, Laurel. The first day you came to me you said you were Leander Hill’s daughter by adoption.”
“Yes.”
“And you said something about not remembering your mother. Don’t you know anything at all about your real parents, where you came from?”
“No.”