there are things about Madeleine that you have never known.”
Barham’s attitude changed to one of wonder.
“Tell me, Nick,” he said, briefly.
“Not here—come to some quieter place.”
But before the two men could have further talk, Detective Hutchins was announced.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said, politely, “but there are some questions I have to settle at once, Mr. Barham.”
“Very well, come into the library,” and Andrew Barham introduced Nelson, and the three sat down.
“To be through with this interview as quickly as possible, Mr. Barham,” Hutchins said, “I’ll tell you where we stand. We, the police, have practically only two facts to work on—Mrs. Barham’s death, and the disappearance of Mr. Locke. Anything else we know is part and parcel of one of these two propositions. Now, it is self-evident that you cannot tell us anything about the whereabouts of Mr Locke. But I am obliged to ask you some questions regarding your wife’s life. I am sorry”
“Mr. Hutchins,” Andrew Barham said, quietly, “I will ask you to eliminate the personal equation entirely. I know it is from consideration of my feelings that you hesitate or apologize at introducing these subjects, but I assure you it will make it easier for me if you will say what is necessary, in a business-like way. I am quite ready to tell you what I can, but let us be brief and to the point.”
Hutchins’ respect and admiration for this man rose another point, and he said, simply, “I understand, Mr. Barham. Now, shall I speak before Mr. Nelson?”
“Certainly. I have no secrets regarding these things from him.”
