“Here’s what we’ve found,” he said. “You can judge for yourself. Maybe you can help us.”
Methodically he passed in review the chain of evidence he had assembled against Miss Mount, stating only the facts and omitting the question of motive. Graham listened, a shrinking fascination on his sensitive face. When Landis had finished he leaned back on his pillows with an obvious effort at composure.
“But why?” he demanded huskily. “Why should she kill Harrison after all these years? What possible reason could she have for trying to kill me? It’s—it’s unbelievable!”
“Did you know that your wife has a scar on her back?”
Graham frowned.
“I—er—noticed it the night she leaned back on my cigarette. May I ask how you happen to—?”
“I guessed it was there and Doctor Stanford verified my guess, Graham! Now listen! Here’s the rest!”
He plunged into a rehash of the evidence connecting Miss Mount with Ethel Graham and indicating that the two had been cruelly separated by Harrison. He detailed the events of Thursday which led him to believe that Miss Mount had discovered, only that day, the trick played upon her eighteen years before.
“Think of her feelings—her rage and her hatred,” he urged. “More than one woman has taken the law into her own hands for a less cruel outrage upon her maternal instinct!”