“Well, what next?” inquired Bernard.
“I’m going to look in on Graham as we promised. Then we’ll—I’ll go after Miss Mount. I want her confession this morning!” It was clear that he did not relish the prospect.
“You might wait a bit for that!”
Landis stared.
“Aren’t you satisfied yet?”
“There’s a string or two to tie! Take those gloves for instance—and the bit of feather in Stimson’s pocket. Think Miss Mount put it there? Does she strike you as that sort of a woman, Landis!”
“But the evidence! Look at it! There’s the cross-bow, the rope that lashed it in place, the scratches it made on her table, the strong thread to run from the trigger out to the nail on the reception-room window, the window lowered just as the arrow that killed Harrison was released. The same window lowered when Graham was shot!”
“It certainly is complete!”
Landis shot a glance at Bernard, caught the twinkle of amusement in his eyes and after a moment of irritation laughed in response.
“All right, sir!” he said. “Be as mysterious as you like! I’m satisfied to follow this up. I’m going to! But there’s one thing to do first. We’d better test that blame cross-bow on the target upstairs with one of those Japanese arrows. If it doesn’t work, my theory goes up in smoke!”