“And was Madame Sayre surprised?” Nelson asked.
“That I can’t say—I could hear so little. Indeed, I heard but few actual words, but I did hear Washington Square—of that I am sure.”
“But Madame Barham did not tell you she was going there?”
“No, Monsieur Nelson, she did not. I have told all.”
“You may go, Claudine,” and the maid left the room.
“All of no use, Nick,” Barham said, wearily. “I knew all that before, practically, from Rosamond Sayre herself. Maddy sent for her—to borrow some money. And Maddy brought influence to bear—or, at least, I suppose she did. Rose didn’t say that—but she did say that she promised to take the money to Maddy at Emmy Gardner’s that evening. They were both going there to play. Rosamond did go, and Maddy, of course, never showed up. So Claudine gave us no news. Can’t we drop the whole thing, Nick? I mean, can’t we get out of any active part in it? Of course, the police”
“Well, all right, Drew; but you asked me to help you look into these things. You asked me to help you find the murderer of your wife. You asked me to represent you in the matter, and use my judgment as to what should be done so far as we had any choice of procedure. I’ve done these things—I mean I’ve tried to do them. I’ve used all the means at my disposal to accede to your demands and now you’re”
“Well, I’m what?”
“I don’t know, exactly—but, you’re queer—that’s what you are—queer.”
“I dare say I am, Nick. Forgive me, old chap.”
And then Barham dropped his head into his hands and sat for a moment, looking so dejected and so despairing that Nelson was sorry for him.
