CHAPTER NINETEENWhat Money Can Buy
In the mild light of the candles the two men seemed to confront each other almost placidly; each had a dark open doorway behind him, though Hunter’s back was to the mystery of the outer world, Gamadge’s to that of the little green room where Alvira Radford had died. The low boom of the waterfall went ceaselessly on as they talked in subdued voices.
“I prefer the direct method myself,” said Gamadge, “but I was afraid that if I began with an accusation you would take Fanny and leave the house. I wanted you to hear me through, and I had no way of keeping you except by exciting your interest. I had to leave the gun you gave me in Stratfield; your other one, the one with the numbers filed away, is of course an exhibit too. Perhaps you have a third?”
Hunter
