Shelby needed nothing but a finger-bowl in order to finish his dinner, and left hurriedly, much to the astonishment of the waiter.
Burke and Riley had already gone out and had disappeared when we followed shortly.
Prompted by Kennedy, Hastings sauntered around to the end of the porch which the Walcotts and Mrs. Maddox had occupied. Shelby Maddox had already joined them, unable to keep away from Winifred longer.
One could feel the constraint of the party, although to an outsider it might readily have been accounted for by the tragedy. However, we knew by this time that there was something deeper.
Shelby was apparently endeavoring to overcome the impression which the appearance and smile of Paquita had produced, but I could see that Winifred was not yet entirely mollified.
The Maddox party welcomed us—not cordially, but at least not coldly, for it was no part of their character ever to betray their real feelings before one another.
As we drew up chairs I could feel the close scrutiny to which we were being subjected.
“Well?” queried Shelby at length, after we had talked about several inconsequential things, “what have you found out, Hastings?”
He said it in a tone that was meant to imply that he knew that some kind of investigation was on. Was it bravado?
“Oh, several things,” returned Hastings, turning to Kennedy as if to leave the answer to him.