“About what time did you expect him to be shot?” he thundered.
Miss Mount hesitated, then drew herself up.
“I did not expect him to be shot at all!” she replied. “And if you wish to question me further you will kindly lower your voice and behave as nearly as possible like a gentleman.”
There was so concentrated and biting a resentment in her low tone that Landis studied her with interest.
Bernard smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“Direct and to the point,” he observed. “Proceed, please. You ran into the library—”
Again Miss Mount hesitated. But there was something about the big, elderly detective who sat watching her, smiling and unmoved, that demanded the respect of even so vital a personality as hers.
“Yes,” she said stiffly, “I hurried into the library and found it in darkness except for the lamp still burning on Mr. Harrison’s desk. That lighted only a small circle about his desk, so I turned aside to the doorway into the hall and switched on the overhead lights. Then I turned and looked all round the room. But there was no one here!”
“A very plucky thing to do,” commented Bernard.
“I have been with Mr. Harrison for nearly twenty-four years! It was the natural thing to do!”