“I don’t believe so. You see, a lawyer is in a confidential position toward his client anyway and such a thing would be out of the question. Also, I think he was shrewd enough to guess that I wasn’t that sort.”
“Probably he was. We are!” smiled Landis.
Graham thanked him with a nod and a slow flush.
“Anyhow,” he continued hastily, “I didn’t go near him again until Ethel and I were married. We were practically engaged when she told me her real name. We sent him an announcement card and got in exchange an invitation to stay here this week from Isabelle Harrison. I guess you fellows believe that I would have married and did marry Ethel regardless of any expectations or hopes I might have had from Harrison?”
“What difference does that make?” demanded Bernard. “Let your conscience be your guide! Personally, knowing you and Mrs. Graham, I don’t doubt it for a minute!”
“Nor I,” said Landis warmly.
“Thanks! Now, I want to remind you that Ethel knows absolutely nothing about all this. There’s no proof of course. If there should be anything in our guess, I naturally want to save Ethel any pain or—or mortification—”
“Was that why you wouldn’t tell us about her past?”
“Of course! It had nothing to do with the murder, as I told you! But I don’t feel like keeping anything dark after this crack somebody took at killing me. I can only trust to your kindness—”
“To which you can trust!” retorted Landis shortly. “What I want to know is this. Did her meeting Harrison accomplish what you hoped?”