Shattuck merely shrugged superciliously, and would have turned to some papers on his desk, had not Kennedy possessed one of those compelling personalities that demand that you hear them out, whether you like it or not.
"Mrs. Wilford seems to have assumed a sort of passive attitude toward me," Kennedy resumed.
"You don't expect her to help you?" inquired Shattuck.
"As for yourself," continued Craig, unperturbed, "I am frankly of the opinion, Shattuck, that your attitude is quite one of open hostility. I would not presume to dictate to either of you how you should order your conduct—but—it seems to me that, under the circumstances, it might not be unwise to take care not to prejudice your cases, you know."
Shattuck involuntarily shot a quick glance from under his heavy eyebrows at Kennedy. But not even Shattuck's cleverness could read anything in Craig's face.
What is it that this man knows? Quite apparently that was the sudden thought working back of Shattuck's beetling brows.
"For instance," continued Kennedy, as though determined to have his way in the matter and ram the words down Shattuck's throat, "I am sure you know of that Calabar bean which I—or rather Mr. Jameson—discovered in Mr. Wilford's office—not very far away from here, I see."
Shattuck's face was a study. Not once did the man lose his poise. It was not that.
"Well, it raises some interesting problems. I won't say that I haven't settled them. But, for the sake of argument, let us take the circumstance—just in itself."
Shattuck calmly lighted a cigarette and deliberately inhaled it, bored.