"She hasn't told it yet," answered Kennedy. "What next?"
"I guess it got under Mrs. Wilford's skin. 'I don't understand men,' she cried. 'But I understand you. It is revenge—revenge on me that you want, Vina.'"
"She got back a thrust at Mrs. Lathrop, anyhow," I commented.
Yet I wondered what Vina's motive might be. Was it merely due to her insane infatuation for Shattuck? As for Honora, was she, I kept wondering, after all, the consciously frigid, unconsciously passionate woman? At least, she was a most perplexing "complex."
Doyle had closed his note-book with the remark that his little mechanical eavesdropper had made an excellent start, and now was looking inquiringly at Kennedy.
"Where is Chase?" asked Kennedy. "Have you any idea?"
"McCabe looked up the name and finds that there is a Chase agency on Forty-second Street. You might try it."
Accordingly, we set out for the address of the detective which McCabe had located and found that it was a small office in a building near Fifth Avenue. Chase himself proved to be a rather frank-faced, energetic young fellow, not at all typical of the private detective. In fact, he had had some experience as an operative for one of the big agencies, and, having some money, had achieved the dream of every such operative—an agency of his own, small, but at least his own.
It did not take much questioning to get the main facts out of Chase, who kept repeating that neither he nor Mrs. Wilford had anything to conceal. Anyhow, the mystery of Chase was solved. Chase was a detective whom Mrs. Wilford had retained for her own protection against the unprincipled operatives of her husband.
He proved to be apparently honest and straightforward. Though he could shed very little light on the deeper problems that confronted us, there were many things we had already unearthed which his reports corroborated.