Then he turned to Markham.
“I don’t imagine it’s time even to hope that you’ve run across anything.”
Markham took his cigar from his mouth, and turning it about in his fingers, contemplated it thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he remarked, after a moment. “I’ve managed to find out whom your brother dined with Thursday night; and I know that this person returned home with him shortly after midnight.” He paused as if deliberating the wisdom of saying more. Then: “The fact is, I don’t need a great deal more evidence than I’ve got already to go before the Grand Jury and ask for an indictment.”
A look of surprised admiration flashed in the Major’s sombre face.
“Thank God for that, Markham!” he said. Then, setting his heavy jaw, he placed his hand on the District Attorney’s shoulder. “Go the limit—for my sake!” he urged. “If you want me for anything, I’ll be here at the Club till late.”
With this he turned and walked from the room.
“It seems a bit cold-blooded to bother the Major with questions so soon after his brother’s death,” commented Markham. “Still, the world has got to go on.”
Vance stifled a yawn.
“Why—in Heaven’s name?” he murmured listlessly.