“You did, eh? Why, Stimson?” Landis felt slightly chagrined.
“He was so perfect, sir. Too good to be true—in a way of speaking. And Mr. Harrison gave him many a black look before he died.”
“You didn’t tell us that, Stimson!”
“No, sir. You didn’t ask.”
“Stimson, you’re a cynic!”
“Possibly, sir. Is there anything I can do?”
Landis nodded, aware that he had been rebuffed.
“You can ask Miss Mount to step in here for a moment. Ask her quietly, please. We don’t want to alarm Mrs. Graham—yet!”
“Very good, sir. I understand.” A wintry smile with just a shade of respect in it crossed the butler’s morose countenance. “Good day to you, gentlemen,” he said and withdrew.
The two man-hunters waited, glancing at each other with a certain discomfort, until Miss Mount appeared in the doorway, advanced a few paces toward them and stopped.