Miss Mount’s smile deepened a trifle.
“He asked me to say that he considers your inquiries into his movements in the worst possible taste. He does not understand why you were invited here in the first place. That was all he said.”
Bernard grunted, moved across the hall to the rail above the landing and beckoned her after him with a jerk of his head. When she and Landis had joined him there he snapped a question at her, his voice lowered:
“Does Joel always keep the door of his den locked and the key in his pocket?”
“I believe he does, Mr. Bernard.”
“Ever invite anybody in there to see his treasures?”
“Oh, yes, now and then.”
“Who did he invite in there recently?”
“Let me see. I believe he took Mr. Brent in there last Sunday. I heard them talking. Yes—and on Tuesday the girls were in there with Mr. Russell and Mr. Allen after lunch. It was raining that day and afterwards they all went up to the big playroom to shoot. ‘Uncle Joel’ and Stimson carried the target up there.”
“They spent the afternoon shooting on the third floor?” asked Landis casually. There had been comparatively few marks on the target before Stimson tried his hand.