“Come, come,” said Landis with an unruffled smile, “we’re not scandal-mongering. It may be important.”
“Well, Anita was—defending him—rather warmly.”
“Let it go at that, then! What did Harrison want to talk to you about?”
“A subject purely personal to me. I’ll tell you if you insist. But I’d a great deal rather not.”
Bernard uttered a faint snort.
“Another personal matter! Do you realize, Graham, that Harrison was murdered here tonight? This is no game of twenty questions, man!”
“I know it isn’t,” said Graham in sudden exasperation. “But our talk had nothing to do with the murder!” His tone changed. “Look here, I could have told you our talk was about business but I told you the truth. Now, if you insist on details, damn it, I’ll be strongly tempted to lie to you!” He laughed with a touch of appeal. “Nobody heard us and nobody would be any the wiser!”
“All right,” said Landis quickly, “let it go. Come on back to the library while we talk to the others.”
Leaving the young lawyer, ruffled and a bit nervous, under the watchful eye of Sergeant Forbes, Landis went to the billiard-room. Russell and Allen had abandoned their game and were sitting in front of the fire. He asked for a word with Russell and conducted him back to the drawing-room.
The young man sat down in a leisurely way and faced his two inquisitors with a lazy smile while they looked him over. He was a fine specimen of the Nordic physique, big, broad-shouldered, and muscular, with a head of light, half-tamed hair. Behind the lazy, deep-set blue eyes lurked intelligence and good humor, also a capacity for sudden anger.