What the little dancer was up to was just as mysterious as ever.
X
THE DETECTAPHONE DETECTOR
Kennedy was waiting impatiently for me at the laboratory and enjoyed a quiet laugh at my expense when I told him of my fiasco in untangling the secret of Paquita.
“Is there any news?” I asked, hastily endeavoring to change the subject.
“Yes,” he replied, glancing at his watch. “Irene Maddox and Winifred have come in to town on a later train. As nearly as I can make out they’ve joined forces. They have a common hatred of Paquita, whatever else they may lack.”
“How do you know they are here?” I queried.
“They have called me up and made an appointment to meet me at the laboratory. They ought to be here any minute, now. I’m glad you came. I shouldn’t like to meet them alone. I’d rather have some one as a witness. It’s strange that they should be seeking to have me work for them,” considered Kennedy.
“What do you mean,” I asked. “Hastings sought you out first. It may be quite natural that Irene Maddox should consult the detective retained by her former husband’s lawyer in such a case. Have any of the others been after you?”
“Yes,” he replied, thoughtfully. “After I left you this morning I had a most peculiar experience. Shelby Maddox is either the most artless or else the most artful of all of them.”