He had not meant this to be heard by the now silent
woman.
But it was, and she turned on him in fury.
“Not responsible, young man! I! Marcia Selden! How dare you say such a thing! I’ll have you arrested—get out of this house this instant! I am entirely responsible! I have more brains in a minute than you’ll have in a thousand years! I know what I’m talking about. Indeed I do!”
“Oh, Mother,” Barham’s patience began to give way, “do stop this tirade. Please be more quiet.”
Again her voice rose to a shriek.
“Brute! Unnatural man! My child is killed, and he says, ‘Be quiet!’ I won’t be quiet! I will say what I think!”
“Then say it without me,” and Barham rose and left the room.
“Follow him, Mr. Nelson,” Hutchins said, quickly, “it may not be a bad plan.”
Nelson went, and the detective tried to ingratiate himself with Marcia Selden.
Claudine sat beside her, trying to soothe her, but with small success.
“Now, dear lady,” he said, “you tell me anything you can to help me, and then you go away and rest before the florist comes to see you. You’ve a lot to attend to, with him, you know. Were you in your daughter’s confidence? Did she ever tell you about her acquaintance with Mr. Locke?”
For a long moment Marcia Selden looked at him.
Hutchins knew that his fate was in the balance. She might respond to his advances and give him her confidence and she might fly into a rage at him.
“No,” she said, at last, “she never told me of
