Brent had. His tone and manner changed, chameleon-like, from ruffled dignity to genial welcome. “Well, well! Of course, I have! We have a famous man on the case, then—and an able assistant, no doubt!” He nodded shortly at Landis.
“Tut, tut,” said Bernard, with a ghost of a smile. “Landis is in charge and I’m the assistant.” He turned to Graham. “Do you happen to know whether Harrison changed his will within the last two or three weeks?”
“So far as I know, he hasn’t. And one of us would know if he had, of course.”
They were grouped in the doorway between the reception-room and the hall. At this moment Doctor Stanford finished his task and approached them. Brent eyed the man closely, then presented him with a distant nod.
“All right,” said the doctor. “That’s finished. My name’s in the local telephone directory if you want me again. Good night.” He edged through the doorway without looking at Brent and let himself out of the house.
As soon as the front door closed, Brent snorted.
“How did that man get in here?” he demanded.
“Mr. Harrison’s family doctor was on his vacation and Miss Mount suggested Doctor Stanford. She said he had been here before,” answered Graham soothingly.
“Surprised to hear it,” snapped Brent.