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Their ways diverged then, Hutchins going to the Museum to inquire about the value of the scarab.

The authorities there told him practically the same as Barham had said. It was a genuine antique scarab—and was worth perhaps a hundred dollars. But it was by no means a museum piece or an especially fine specimen of its period.

So, Hutchins concluded, Locke valued it mostly for some sentiment or association. This, however, had no bearing on its value as evidence against Pearl Jane Cutler.

That young woman put in a pretty miserable day. She knew not whether she would be accused of murder—or being an accessory after the fact—whatever that meant! or what would happen to her. She confabbed with Kate Vallon, and then she went to Henry Post for advice and counsel.

They could say little, except to express sympathy and indignation at the suspicion cast on her.

“You didn’t do it, P. J., did you?” Post asked.

“No,” she said, dully—“but if I had, I should say I hadn’t.”

These artists seemed not to have very deep susceptibilities. Both Post and Rodman Jarvis, though good pals of Locke’s, had practically no help to offer Pearl Jane. In their circle, every man was for himself—and every woman also. They were not hard-hearted—they were merely cold-blooded and absorbed in their own affairs.

“They’ll never arrest the kid,” Post said to Jarvis. “Why worry? And, for all I know, there may have been some affair between Locke and the Barham woman. I keep out of such messes all I can.”

And Jarvis, though ready to do all he could for Locke in his absence, had no wish to take up Pearl Jane’s burdens.

Kate Vallon was devoted to the girl, and she wept with