In the Best Families

“I'm accusing you of that, yes, sir, but also I'm accusing you of something much worse than that. Wolfe spat it at him. “I'm accusing you of deliberately and ruthlessly, to protect yourself from the consequences of your murder of your cousin for the money you would inherit from her, thrusting that knife into the belly of a dog that loved you and trusted you!

Leeds started up, but hadn't got far when my hands were on his shoulders, and with plenty of pressure. He let down. I moved my hands to the back of his chair.

Wolfe's voice was cold and cutting. “No one could have done that but you, Mr

Leeds. In the woods at night, that trained dog would not have gone far from its mistress. Someone else might possibly have killed the dog first and then her, but it wasn't done that way, because the knife was left in the dog. And if someone else, permitted to get close to her, had succeeded in killing her with a sudden savage thrust and then defended himself against the dog's attack, it is not believable that he could have stopped so ferocious a beast by burying the knife in its side without himself getting a single tooth mark on him. You know those dogs; you wouldn't believe it; neither will I.

“No, Mr Leeds, it could have been only you. When Mr Goodwin went on to your house and you stayed out at the kennels, you joined your cousin on her walk in the woods. I doubt if the dog would have permitted even you to stab her to death in its presence; I don't know; but you didn't have to. You sent the dog away momentarily, and, when the knife had done its work on your cousin, you withdrew it, stood there in the dark with the knife in your hand, and called the dog to come. It came, and despite the smell of fresh blood, it behaved itself because it loved and trusted you. You could have spared it; you could have taken it home with you; but no. That would have put you in danger. It had to die for you, and by your hand.

Wolfe took a breath. “To this point I know I am right; now conjecture enters.