CHAPTER TWENTYBest Motive of All
“I don’t know myself, exactly,” said Bishop, “but I figured you out as a smart guy, and a kind of a pleasant guy too. And you were on the sidelines, no bets on anything.”
He sat on the chesterfield in Gamadge’s library, one of Theodore’s best juleps in his hand; dressed conservatively enough in dark blue to have satisfied even Bruce Dunbar’s taste. He sat straight up in his corner, self-contained and serious of mien as usual, but with amusement in his eyes.
“I’m afraid I didn’t do the errand very well,” said Gamadge. “I was too tired. But I realized you were on a spot, and as I had already decided, as I explained to you, that you were not Fuller—”
“You did fine,” said Bishop, smiling. “All I wanted was to be up on the platform leading the band when the
