“I think that Belle can enlighten you better than I. Both boys belonged to her set. I saw them only occasionally.”
Markham turned inquiringly to the girl.
“I’ve known both of them for years,” she said promptly. “Joseph was eight or ten years older than Raymond, and lived in England up to five years ago, when his father and mother both died. He came to America, and took bachelor quarters on the Drive. He had considerable money, and lived idly, devoting himself to fishing and hunting and other outdoor sports. He went about in society a little, and was a nice, comfortable friend who’d always fill in at a dinner or make a fourth hand at bridge. There was nothing really much to him—in an intellectual way, you understand. . . .”
She paused, as if her remarks were in some way disloyal to the dead, and Markham, sensing her feelings, asked simply:
“And Sperling?”
“He’s the son of a wealthy manufacturer of something or other—retired now. They live in Scarsdale in a beautiful country home,—our archery club has its regular ranges there,—and Raymond is a consulting engineer for some firm down-town; though I imagine he works merely to placate his father, for he only goes to the office two or three days a week. He’s a graduate of Boston Tech, and I met him when he was a sophomore, home on vacation. Raymond will never set the world afire, Mr. Markham; but he’s really an awfully fine type of American young man—sincere, jolly, a little bashful, and perfectly straight.”
It was easy to picture both Robin and Sperling from the girl’s brief descriptions; and it was correspondingly difficult to connect either of them with the sinister tragedy that had brought us to the house.
Markham sat frowning for a while. Finally he lifted his head and looked straight at the girl.
“Tell me, Miss Dillard: have you any theory or explanation that might, in any way, account for the death of Mr. Robin?”
“No!” The word fairly burst from her. “Who could want to kill Cock Robin? He hadn’t an enemy in the world. The whole thing is incredible. I couldn’t believe it had happened until I went and—and saw for myself. Even then it didn’t seem real.”