vina lathrop received us a few moments later with a question in her eyes. yet she discreetly did not hint at it in anything she said.

i have said that she was a woman of quite opposite type from honora. like her, however, she was a woman of rare physical attraction. yet it needed only a glance to see that men interested vina, and in that respect she gave one a different impression from honora. and i am quite sure, also, that few men could have withstood the spell of her interest if she chose to bestow it. there was, no doubt, much in her life that that accounted for.

"i've been thinking of what you said about mrs. wilford this morning," began kennedy, after a few remarks that explained our interest in the case, without telling her anything that would put her too much on guard.

"my remark about mrs. wilford?" she repeated, na?vely.

"yes. you remember when you were talking to doctor lathrop about the case, you said, 'i don't think that honora is capable of either deep love [79] or even deep hate'? i've been wondering just what you meant by it."

vina seemed to be careful lest an unwary word might escape.

"why, really," she murmured, as though feeling that the question called for an answer she did not wish to give. "i don't think that honora—well—understood vail wilford, if you get what i mean. he was not difficult to understand. he would have been devoted to her—if only—"

she paused and stopped.

"if only what?"

"you wouldn't understand," she answered, quickly, shaking her head.

to me it seemed as though the implication she wished to convey was the usual specious refuge of the "other woman," when cornered, that it was she, not the wife, who really understood the man in the case.

"you see, i don't know honora wilford well," encouraged kennedy. "i can't say that i do understand. i guess that's just it. i thought perhaps you might enlighten me."

vina gave a pretty little shrug to her attractive shoulders, then leaned forward, as if suddenly deciding to become confidential with craig.

"it's a long story," she replied. "i don't know how to tell it. honora was like her father—in fact, her family are all the same—always seeking the main chance. you remember old honore chappelle? no? out of even the business of an oculist he managed to make a tidy fortune. she [80] was ambitious—ambitious in marriage, ambitious to get into 'society,' you know. don't you see now what i mean? besides, you know, daughters, they say, inherit from their fathers—and she seems to have been no exception. i think mr. wilford came to realize why it was she married him, only, of course, in such cases, it comes too late."

i set the remark down as that of a "catty" woman. yet there was something to think about in it. for, at the time of wilford's marriage, the young lawyer was already wealthy and in the smart set, while vance shattuck had not inherited the fortune of his uncle, who had often threatened to cut him off without a penny as a reward for his numerous escapades. there could be no doubt that, at the time, wilford was the greater "catch" of the two.

as we talked with vina about the death of wilford, she spoke with ill-concealed emotion. i could not escape the impression that she seemed to be more deeply affected by it than even honora herself had been. was it due to her more emotional nature?

i would have thought it strange, even though kennedy had not already surmised from his psychanalysis of honora that vina was the "other woman" in the case.

it was apparent that, whatever might be vina's own story, she reacted sharply against the very type of woman that honora was. there was plainly some rivalry between them, some point of contact at which [81] there had been friction. it was most assuredly kennedy's job to find out what that was.

"i don't know whether you are aware," he suggested, taking a slightly different angle, "but in mr. wilford's office they found evidence that you yourself were preparing a divorce suit."

the transition from honora to herself was sudden. yet vina did not seem confused by it. she did not deny it, or even attempt to deny it. perhaps she realized that it was of no use, that her best defense was, as the lawyers would say, confession and avoidance.

"oh," she replied, airily, "the suit was never started, you know—just talked about."

i could not but wonder at her callousness. evidently this woman was of a type all too common in a certain stratum of society, to whom marriage is a career to be entered into either for the sake of bettering oneself or for the sake of variety.

"what, may i ask, were the grounds?" probed kennedy, growing bolder as he saw how frankly she elected to discuss the subject when cornered.

she colored a bit, as she strove to decide whether to get angry or to answer, then chose the latter course.

"incompatibility, i suppose you would call it—at least that's what i call it. i believe every woman should live her own life as she sees fit. i hadn't even decided what state i would acquire residence in, in order to bring the suit, if i decided to go on with it. nothing was settled, you know."

[82]

"and now you are going to—?" inquired kennedy, stopping to let her fill out the answer.

"drop it, of course," she supplied. "i suppose the doctor and i shall continue to agree to disagree."

"had mrs. wilford contemplated similar action on her part, do you think?"

vina avoided answering, but kennedy pressed for a reply, asserting that vail wilford must have given some hint of it, either by his words or actions.

"i don't know," she repeated, firmly.

"did she know of your—er—acquaintance with mr. wilford?"

if looks had been poisonous, kennedy must have been inoculated with venom right there. he paid no attention to her scornful glances as, again, there was no avoidance of an answer, no matter how much she tried.

"why do you think you know so much?" vina veiled her sarcastic reply.

"mrs. wilford had been having her husband watched, i learn," prodded kennedy, with brutal directness.

i glanced covertly over at him. doyle had told us wilford was watching his wife. but no one, as i recalled, had given us an inkling of a reverse state of affairs. i realized that kennedy had made it up out of whole cloth. he was trying it out to see its effect. at any rate, there was nothing unreasonable about it. it might have been true, whether it actually was or not.

[83]

for a moment vina was sorely tried to hold back a quick reply. then she shrugged again.

"most women of the sort have to do that," she snapped.

it was a mean remark, besides being glaringly untrue, except in the limited ken of certain new-yorkese women. moreover, i saw that kennedy had slipped past her guard. each sentence she replied betrayed the keen feeling between the two.

kennedy seemed to be observing vina as he might a strange element in a chemical reaction. on her part she seemed intuitively to recognize that there was a challenge to her in craig's very personality.

arts which she might have tried with success on another seemed not to impress this man. he seemed to penetrate the defenses which she had against most men. and i could not help seeing that she was piqued by it.

while they were fencing in their verbal duel, craig had casually drawn a pencil from his pocket. a moment later i saw that he had begun scribbling some figures, apparently aimlessly, on a piece of paper.

from where i was sitting beside him i could see that he had written something like this:

5183

47395

654726

2964375

47293825

924783651

2146063859

[84]

for some time he regarded the figures that he had written as the conversation went on.

"here's a little puzzle," he remarked, offhand, breaking into the chat. "did you ever try it?"

vina looked at him in surprise at this unexpected turn of the conversation. i am sure that she was in doubt as to the man's sanity. however, there was a certain relief in the new turn of the conversation. at least he was not treading on the dangerous ground which he had trod upon.

"er—no," she answered, doubtfully. "that is—i don't know what you mean. what are the numbers?"

"oh, it's nothing much," he disarmed. "it's simply a matter of seeing whether a person can repeat numbers. i've found it rather interesting at times."

without waiting for either comment or excuse from her he said, quickly: "for instance, take the first one—five, one, eight, three. see if you can repeat that."

"of course—five, one, eight, three," she replied, mechanically.

"fine—four, seven, three, nine, five," came in rapid succession.

to it she replied, perhaps a little slower than before, "why, four, seven, three, nine, five."

"good! now, six, five, four, seven, two, six."

"er—six, five, four, seven, two, six," she repeated, i thought, with some hesitation.

"again—two, nine, six, four, three, seven, five," he shot out.

[85]

"two, nine, six"—she hesitated—"four, three, seven, five."

"try again—four, seven, two, nine, three, eight, two, five," he read.

"four—two—seven," she returned, slowly, then stopped, "three—nine—what was the next one?—er—two—two—"

it was evident that she was hopelessly muddled. it was not because she had not tried, for the diversion had come as a welcome relief from the quizzing on delicate subjects and she had seized upon it. she had reached the limit.

kennedy had smiled and was about to go on, although it was evident that it was useless, when there was a noise in the hall, as though some one had been admitted by the maid and had entered. it seemed to be a man's voice that i heard and i wondered whether it was doctor lathrop himself.

a moment later the door opened and disclosed, to my astonishment, not lathrop, but shattuck.

if he was embarrassed at finding us there he did not betray it in the least. quite the contrary. he greeted vina lathrop cordially, then turned to us.

"oh, by the way," he began, "you're just the man i wanted to see, kennedy."

i thought that there was a note of indignant protest in his voice as he said it, then, before kennedy could make reply, went on, rapidly: "about mrs. wilford—it's an outrage. doyle and mccabe and the rest of that precious crew are thugs—thugs. [86] i called there to express my sympathy. of course she couldn't say much—but i have eyes. i could see much, without being told. there she is, harassed and hounded and practically a prisoner in that place—no one to go to—her husband foully murdered—at least that's what they say. i don't know. she's spied on, listened to—i tell you, it's a shame. they're driving that poor woman insane—nothing short of it."

shattuck was evidently genuinely angry and, indeed, i felt that he was making a good case of it. i looked toward vina. she merely tossed her head. evidently she was piqued that shattuck should think so much of "that woman," as she doubtlessly would have liked to refer to her.

i wondered what might have been the connection between vina and shattuck, and determined to watch. more than that, i wondered what could be his purpose in bringing up the name of honora before vina. had he a reason?

"did you finally sell the stock?" inquired vina of him, abruptly, as though wishing to change the subject.

"of course," he returned. "only to complete the thing you will have to indorse this paper," he added, drawing a document from his pocket for her to sign.

i wondered whether this reference to a business transaction was a blind to make us believe their relations were merely those of a broker and client.

shattuck excused himself to us while vina signed [87] with his fountain-pen and as they talked in a low tone i saw that she was appealing to him with all her feminine arts.

was shattuck proof? or was he dissembling so as not to betray anything to us? i remembered the old gossip about shattuck. was he still woman-crazy? had vail wilford stood in his way with both women? it was a queer tangle at best. anything, i felt, might prove to be the case.

at any rate, i was sure that the transaction covered their embarrassment at meeting us. more than that, it convinced me that there was some connection between shattuck and vina all along. i had wondered whether it had been she who had telephoned to him while we were at his place that morning. i had not thought of the possibility at the time. but now i was sure of it.

kennedy rose to go, and at the same moment shattuck also excused himself. we departed, leaving vina, i am positive, still all at sea as to the purpose of our visit.

we departed, and at the street corner stood talking for a moment with shattuck. again, as though taking the thing up just where he had left it off, he complained about the shame of the persecution of honora.

kennedy was non-committal, as indeed he was forced to be over doyle's work, and after promising nothing, we parted.

in fact, craig said very little even to me as we started around the corner for the laboratory.

[88]

"what was all that rigmarole of the numbers?" i inquired, finally, my curiosity getting the better of me, as we entered the chemistry building and craig turned the key in the lock of his private laboratory, admitting us.

"part of the binet test," he answered. "it is seeing how many digits one can remember. you're not acquainted with the test? it's used commonly in schools and in many ways. well, an adult ought to remember eight to ten digits, in any order. a child cannot, ordinarily. between these, there are all grades. in this case, i do not think we have to deal with a mentality quite up to the intellectual standard."

"it's well vina lathrop isn't here to hear you say it," i commented.

kennedy smiled. "true, nevertheless, whatever outward looks may show. to tell you the truth, walter, here we have to deal with two quite opposite types of women. one, intellectual, as we know, does not yet know what love really is. in the other i fancy i see a wild, demi-mondaine instinct that slumbers at the back of her mind, all unknown to herself. she knows well what love is—too well. she has had many experiences and is always seeking others—perhaps the supreme experience."

he paused a moment, then added, estimating: "vina is beautiful, yet without the brain that honora has. she is all woman—physical woman. that was what probably attracted wilford, what [89] she meant by saying that i wouldn't understand, although i did. in wilford's case it may have been the reaction from the intellectual woman. she knows that power which her physical charms give her over men; honora does not—yet."

"but, craig," i remonstrated, "you do not mean to tell me that you believe that you could sit here in a laboratory and analyze love as if it were a chemical in a test-tube."

"why not?" he replied. "love is nothing but a scientific fact—after all."

"then explain it."

he shrugged. "true, you ask me to explain love and i must tell you that i cannot. for the moment it looks as though you had me beaten. but think a moment. i cannot tell you why a stone falls or a morse signal flashes over a wire. still, they do. we know there is a law of gravitation, that electricity exists. we see the effects gravity and electricity produce. we study them. we name them—though we do not understand them. you would not say they were not scientific facts just because i cannot explain them."

i nodded, catching his idea.

"so with love," he went on. "we know that there is an attraction—that is a scientific fact, isn't it?—which two people feel for each other. society may have set up certain external standards. but love knows nothing of them. our education has taught us to respect them. but above this veneer every now and then crop out impulses, the repulsions [90] and attractions which nature, millions of years back, implanted in human hearts as humanity developed. they have been handed down. yes, walter, i know nothing more interesting than to put this thing we call love under the microscope, as it were, and dissect it."

i regarded craig with amazement. was he inhuman? had he suddenly taken leave of his senses?

"you mean it?" i queried. "really?"

"certainly."

"why, craig," i exclaimed, "some day you, too, will meet your fate—you, the cold, calm, calculating man of science who sits here so detached, analyzing other people's emotions!"

"perhaps," he nodded, absently.

"like as not she will be some fluffy little creature from the midnight frolic," i added, sarcastically. "it would be poetic justice if she were. and what a life she would lead you—with your confounded microscope and your test-tubes!"

kennedy smiled indulgently. "if it should be the case," he replied, coolly, "it would only prove my theory. it's very simple. two atoms are attracted like the electrically charged pith-balls—or repulsed. in love very often like repels like and attracts unlike—the old law, you know, as you saw it in the physics laboratory. we see it in this case, with these very people. all your fine-spun theories and traditions of society and law do not count for the weight of a spider thread [91] against nature. that is precisely what i mean by my theory. we are concerned with deep fundamental human forces."

"you talk as though you had been reading some of the continental writers," i remarked.

"perhaps. it makes no difference. often much of our own puritanism in literature covers a multitude of facts, as puritanism does in life. here's a case in point. facts may be ugly things, we may not like them. just the same they have to be faced. it won't do just cavalierly to reject things as doctor lathrop does with the freud theory, which he does not like, for instance. and who is he that he should set himself up to determine fact and fake? maybe, if we studied him we'd find he was no different from anybody else. i'll warrant it."

"i don't care about him," i hastened. "but it does rather jar on me to have you speak so positively on affairs of the heart," i protested.

"you think i can't observe them without experiencing them? i don't have to commit a murder in order to study and understand the murderer, you know. the fact is i am perhaps a better judge of some subjects for the mere fact that i can observe them from the outside, as it were. i am not grinding my own ax."

i shook my head at kennedy's, to me, novel theories of love. in fact, the whole thing, from his dream interpretation down through each step he took in the case, seemed almost revolutionary. [92] convinced against my will, i was of half, at least, my own opinion still. yet i did not feel in any position to combat him. the case would ultimately speak for itself, anyhow, i reflected.

"now," he concluded, before i could think of a retort, "to get back to the case. here are two women who no more understand the impulses that sway them than do the moon and sun in their courses. as i said, fundamental forces of sex are at play here. perhaps even if you were able to get the truth from the various actors in this little drama they themselves could not tell you. therefore, it is for me to unravel what is a closed book, even to them.

"and, strange as you may think it, walter," he concluded, "the freud theory will do it. already i know more than even you suspect. there remains, however, the working out of the drama to its climax before i can be sure i have the truth, beyond mistake."