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 was still cold and direct, and Hutchins saw at once that, whatever the truth of the matter might be, Andrew Barham believed implicitly in the statements he made.

“That is true,” Marcia Selden agreed. “I think, Andrew, you might exert yourself a little more to learn what took Maddy there. But I must agree with you”—she seemed to hate to do so—“that my daughter never went there as a guest. I mean as one of the social circle there. She had a later engagement at the home of a friend, so, you see, she merely stopped at the studio place, en route. Either it was to see about a portrait, or to satisfy a bit of curiosity—or both.”

“Could it have been in any way connected with Mrs. Barham’s—er—Bridge habits”

Alarmed lest Hutchins tell something disparaging to Maddy, which he hoped to keep from the knowledge of Mrs. Selden, Barham rose suddenly, and said:

“That reminds me, Mr. Hutchins, I have an important engagement. If Mrs. Selden will excuse us, will you walk along with me—toward my destination?”

The detective agreed, and once outside the door, Barham told him of the ruse.

“You know much concerning my wife’s Bridge debts,” Barham said, “and, if necessary, it will have to be made public. But unless it is—or, until it is, I want to keep it from Mrs. Selden. It would distress her beyond measure.”

Hutchins marveled at the character of a man who would be so careful of the sensibilities of a woman who so trampled on his own; but he only said:

“I can’t see now, Mr. Barham, the slightest connection between Mrs. Barham’s Bridge cronies and the tragedy of the studio. Unless such comes to light, her Bridge affairs need never reach the ears of the public.”