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 now, he’s—well, sort of apathetic. Doesn’t seem to care what we do, so long as we don’t bother him.”

“What does he do—with his time?”

“I don’t know. Nothing especial, I guess. But he has taken up some of the more important matters of his business—he’s a big consulting engineer, you know. He canceled everything at first—but he’s picking them up again.”

“That’s natural and to be expected. Doubtless they’re most important deals, and he really has to give them his attention. And why shouldn’t he?”

“Why, indeed? Well, I’ll see him to-day, and Nelson, and I hope to goodness they’ll have something to tell me that will turn you off the track of that poor girl.”

“I hope so, Hutch, but don’t let your sympathy for Beauty in distress blind your eyes to facts and evidence.”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Hutchins went off, hoping against hope that he could clear Pearl Jane. It was too absurd to suspect that pretty little thing—but, as Dickson had put it, there was a chance that she had lost her temper, and had thrown the missile—women were uncertain at best.

And Hutchins had to admit to himself that Pearl Jane was exceedingly uncertain. He had seen her gentle, pathetic, sweet—and then sullen and obstinate—all in the same five minutes. Yes, hers was a peculiar personality.

After due deliberation he concluded to go to see Andrew Barham before he saw Nelson. He didn’t know himself just why he made this decision, but it was really due to a lurking hope that it would turn out better for the girl that way.

By telephoning, he learned that Barham was not at his office that day, but at his home. This was by no means