“I think you’re horrid!” Elsie cried, her eyes flashing. “Kim _never_ did anything wrong or underhanded! He couldn’t have been blackmailed! He couldn’t have been involved in any thing disgraceful! How idiotic!”
“If the idea is idiotic, Miss Powell, it will meet the fate it deserves. But we must stir up those sleeping dogs of blackmailers, if they exist. It is a plausible theory, if not the only possible one, and I shall remember it.”
Whiting gave the young detective a look of appreciative interest and the glance was returned, for the two men seemed to understand each other.
“I admit it’s only a theory,” Whiting said, his prominent, muscular jaw set with a grim decision, “but you’ll be hard put to it, to trump up a better one.”
“That may well be,” Coe agreed, “but I’d be sorry to depend on one theory alone. I like to have lots of them, then, if I pick up a clue here or there, I can fit it in where it belongs.”
Like a Skye Terrier, he blinked through the absurd mop of hair that covered his forehead, and Whiting, his own brow bared, showing lines that sloped up to a point, gazed at Coe with a fascinated curiosity.
He wondered why the man chose that peculiar haircut, but it was not his business and he asked no questions.
“All right,” he said; “any of your theories ripe for discussion?”
“Yes; one of them. I think a very strong motive could be ascribed to the young man from the West,—the alternative heir, you know.”
“Allison?” said Whiting. “Oh, come, now, you’ve nothing against him.”
“Only his certainty of inheriting the millions, in case Miss Powell doesn’t marry by the stated date. Fine scheme, to steal the bridegroom,—thus lessening by a large percentage the chances of her immediate wedding.”
“Yes, the motive is all right,” Whiting agreed, “but you don’t know Joe! Why, he’s the whitest young chap—”
“On the surface; why not? But, do you suppose a criminal goes about labelled? Count every man guilty until he’s proved innocent, is a better plan to work on than the reverse principle. If Joe Allison is innocent it will be far easier for him to prove it, than for me to prove it if he’s guilty.”
Whiting pondered over this, then he said,
“Well, I admit, you’re the most novel detective I’ve ever run up against! Have you usually succeeded in your quests?”