Kennedy evidently concluded that his examination had gone far enough, that to pursue it would be only to antagonize her unnecessarily. That would never do so early in the case.
Accordingly he apologized as gracefully as an inquisitor could, and we excused ourselves, though Honora's gaze followed him defiantly to the door.
"Well—we're in bad with her now," I whispered, as we gained the outside, in the private hallway.
"That's most unfortunate," he agreed, though it did not seem to worry him much. "But you know by this time, Walter, that man-hunting is not a popular occupation—and woman-hunting is even less so."
He stopped a moment, looked back, sighed, and added, "It is the penalty I must pay."
In the hall, Craig stopped a moment to speak to Doyle's man, McCabe, a thick-necked fellow, square-jawed and square-toed, of the "flatty" type.
"Mr. Doyle isn't here, I suppose?"
"No, sir. Gone down to Mr. Wilford's office. Telephone call that there's something new there."
"I see. Is the maid, Celeste, here?"
"Yes, sir. Queer girl—pretty—French—but I can't seem to 'make' her."