Landis stepped back to the door and turned to watch Graham’s harassed, white face.
“Go on,” he said.
“Some months ago, as Graham told us, Harrison set him to work to find Ethel Cuddy. Graham knew her already, probably knew all about her supposed parents then. But Harrison’s interest and his lame story of a deceased friend as Ethel’s father gave Graham an idea. He thought he saw a way to make a fortune by blackmail, a way that carried no risk. So he went to see the Cuddys. Harrison’s payments to them had ceased. Cuddy is a miser and would sell his best friend for money. Graham bribed out of him the whole story of the kidnapping and where Ethel was born. He traced the records, got a good description of Miss Mount and possibly of Harrison, then married Ethel and got Harrison to invite them out here. Most of that story, except the essential details of his motive, Graham told us himself.”
“Mr. Bernard!” exclaimed Graham. “I told you that in confidence—”
“Shut up! We’ll hear you presently. To resume. No doubt the Cuddys told Graham that Ethel had a scar on her back that would identify her. She had it when they kidnapped her, you see, when she was only three years old. Now Harrison paid for the child’s support before he had the Cuddys kidnap her as well as after. But he wouldn’t dare send such sums in his own name. He had his lawyers do it. The old records of the firm would verify the Cuddys’ statements as to the people who cared for Ethel until she was three. Graham had access to those records.
“From the very beginning I never believed Graham’s story that Harrison offered to leave the girl a part of his fortune. Harrison wasn’t that sort. What happened was that Graham blackmailed him into transferring some two million dollars into a trust fund for the girl. Harrison would receive the income from these securities as long as he lived. Then the income, from an unknown donor, would go to Ethel—and her husband, eh, Graham?”
“My God!” cried the young lawyer. “I don’t know what Harrison may have done about Ethel! I told you that!”
“Not a doubt you covered your tracks there!” snapped Bernard. “Now, then! You justified your blackmail by explaining to Harrison that you were only asking for Ethel her just due as his daughter, legitimate or no. Anyhow, Harrison found himself in a box, with an outraged woman and a public scandal to face. So on Monday, a week ago yesterday, he took you into town, lunched with you, talked it over, went to the bank and arranged the trust fund. He would get the income from it as long as he lived. There was plenty left for Isabelle and Anita. I don’t suppose he cared much what became of the money after he died!
“You may remember, Landis, that Brent told us the estate was two million dollars less than he had supposed. Brent is accurate, I imagine, whatever else he seems.”