Landis gave him a sharp glance.
“Very well. That’s all I wanted. Much obliged.”
Doctor Stanford withdrew, casting at Landis a single backward glance of puzzled curiosity.
They waited until Stimson, hovering in the hall, had let the doctor out. Then Landis turned in triumph to Bernard.
“There,” he cried, “is your motive! You see it?”
Bernard laughed.
“Dimly! How do you work it out?”
Landis glanced about to be sure they were alone. The breakfast hour was eight and it still lacked twenty minutes of that time. It was unlikely that household or guests would appear until the gong sounded.
“Suppose we recapitulate!” he smiled. “We know that Mrs. Graham was not a Cuddy. In view of Harrison’s interest in her, she was probably his daughter and illegitimate. Miss Mount has been in the family for nearly twenty-four years. She told us that at the beginning. Ethel Graham was eighteen when she ran away—three years ago. She’s twenty-one now!”
“It’s possible—even probable,” Bernard admitted.