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“Well, that wouldn’t matter, Maddy never got money from men. But I’m positive if she had known an artist in Washington Square we would have known of it. It could only have been as a joke—her going there, I mean. Somebody must have dared her—or—oh, I can’t think of any reason! It is utterly inexplicable to think of Madeleine Barham going there—alone! If she had asked some of us to go—as a lark, I could have understood. But to go alone—no, I can’t think of any reason—not of any reason whatever. Can you?”

Hutchins looked at her. She was a good-looking woman, not handsome but well groomed and well made up. She was capable and efficient, he saw, and of the type that has what has been called generalship. He could well imagine her sponsoring successful Bridge games, and he could also picture her as having small sympathy with the unfortunate ones whose luck went against them.

However, he felt that he could learn no more from her concerning Mrs. Barham, and too, he felt he had learned quite enough. So, without further ado, he took his leave.

A confab with Inspector Dickson took place soon after, and the two men agreed that if the mystery was to be cleared up it would be done through investigations starting at the Barham end and not from the Locke house.

“She’s the one to run down,” Dickson said, though Hutchins’ more sensitive nature winced at this way of putting it. “The wrong begins with her—wherever it leads to. Maybe Locke is entirely innocent. Maybe he’s shielding somebody”

“The Cutler girl,” suggested Hutchins.

“I don’t know that Locke was interested in that child,” the inspector said, meditatively. “I hope he is, because that might help us get a line on him. If he’s in love with her, he’ll communicate with her, sure as shooting. But, as