“A thousand dollars for two words,” Landis commented. “What did you do about Harrison?”
“I telephoned from New York and came out here to see him. I told him the truth and that he need have no further anxiety about her as I proposed to marry her!”
“What did he say to that?” inquired Bernard.
“At first he was furious. Then he got grim and ugly and told me that I need have no expectations on her behalf just because he had expressed curiosity to know what had become of her. Of course I got up on my ear a bit and told him that such a question didn’t arise, although I expected the sum he had promised me for finding her. He grumbled a bit and gave me a check and that was that.”
“Did you—er—believe Harrison’s account as to her being the daughter of an old friend?” asked Landis tactfully.
Graham frowned.
“I’d fallen in love with her, Landis! Do you suppose I gave or give a damn who her parents were? I have no social aspirations, thank God! Ethel’s breeding and character speak for themselves!”
“You bet they do!” rumbled Bernard.
“But did you guess,” Landis persisted, “that Harrison’s interest in her might be, well, more than friendly?”
“What do you mean by that?” Graham snapped.