“I can’t afford it,” replied Bernard. “On the other hand, I never suspected you, Miss Mount. As to Mrs. Graham, don’t worry too much. This shock will pass. She has not been married long. And her future is bright.”
“Her—future—?”
“I think you will find that she has a large fortune. Moreover, she has found her mother. Why not tell her so, Miss Mount? She’ll need her mother now. She’s far too sensible to care about the past.”
Miss Mount’s fine eyes never wavered from his, though a slow and painful blush crept up to stain her white face.
“There are times,” said Bernard quietly, “when pride ought to be dumped out the window. This is one of them. We’re going now. Mr. Brent will help you with details. That’s why I telephoned him. Good-by, Miss Mount.”
She brushed the fresh tears from her eyes and held out her hand to him.
“You’re a good man,” she said. “Good-by.”
“Good-by, Miss Mount,” echoed Landis. With an instinctive desire to lighten the tragedy in her eyes he added: “I was the one who suspected you of killing Harrison!”
She turned to look at him, a sudden, still hatred in her glance.
“You thought I would—soil my hands?” she inquired. “Good-by, Mr. Landis!” There was a biting contempt in her quiet tone more startling than a shriek of invective.