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Suddenly we were aware that someone in the next room, a library, was talking. Whether we would or not we could not help overhearing what was said. Apparently two women were there, and they were not taking care how loud they spoke.

“Then you object to my even knowing Mr. Creighton?” asked one of the voices, pausing evidently for a reply which the other did not choose to make. “I suppose if it was Mr. Tresham you’d object, too.”

There was something “catty” and taunting about the voice. It was a hard voice, the voice of a woman who had seen much, and felt fully capable of taking care of herself in more.

“You can’t make up your mind which one you care for most, then? Is that it?” pursued the same voice. “Well, I’ll be a sport. I’ll leave you Creighton–if you can keep him.”

“I want neither,” broke in a voice which I recognized at once as Adele Laidlaw’s.

She spoke with a suppressed emotion which plainly indicated that she did want one of them.

Just then the butler entered with our cards. We heard no more. A moment later we were ushered into the library.

Mrs. Barry was a trim, well-groomed woman whose age was deceptive. I felt that no matter what one might think of Miss Laidlaw, here was a woman whose very looks seemed to warn one to be on his guard. She was a woman of the world, confident in her own ability to take care of herself.

Adele was flushed and excited, as we entered, though she was making a desperate effort to act as though nothing had happened.

“My friend, Professor Kennedy, and Mr. Jameson,” she introduced us simply, making no pretense to conceal our identity.

Mrs. Barry was, in addition to her other accomplishments, a good actress. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Professor,” she said, extending her hand, but not taking her eyes off Craig’s face.

Kennedy met her gaze directly. What did she mean? Had she accepted Miss Laidlaw’s invitation to call in order to look us over, knowing that we had come to do the same?

“Mr. Creighton tells me that you have been to see his new motor,” she ventured, even before any of us could open the subject.

She seemed to enjoy making the remark for the specific purpose of rousing Miss Laidlaw. It succeeded amply, also. The implication that Creighton took her into his confidence was sufficient to cause Adele Laidlaw to shoot an angry glance at her.

Mrs. Barry had no objection to sticking a knife in and turning it around. “Of course I don’t know as much about such things as Miss Laidlaw,” she purred, “but Mr. Tresham tells me that there may be some trouble with the patent office about allowing the patent. From all I have heard there’s a fortune in that motor for someone. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Even the mention of Tresham’s name in the studied familiarity of her tone seemed to increase the scarcely latent hostility between the two women. Kennedy, so far, had said nothing, content merely to observe.

“It appears to be wonderful,” was all he said, guardedly.

Mrs. Barry eyed him sharply and Miss Laidlaw appeared to be ill at ease. Evidently she wanted to believe in Creighton and his motor, yet her natural caution forbade her. The entrance of Kennedy into the case seemed to have proved a disturbing factor between the two women, to have brought matters to a head.

We chatted for a few minutes, Kennedy deftly refusing to commit himself on anything, Mrs. Barry seeking to lead him into expressing some opinion, and endeavoring to conceal her exasperation as he avoided doing so.

At last Kennedy glanced at his watch, which reminded him of a mythical appointment, sufficient to terminate the visit.

“I’m very glad to have met you,” he bowed to Mrs. Barry, as she, too, rose to go, while he preserved the fiction of merely having dropped in to see Miss Laidlaw. He turned to her. “I should be delighted to have both you and Mr. Tresham drop in at my laboratory some time, Miss Laidlaw.”