“Exactly. And some of the dancing partners separate and follow the crowd. Well, that room presents a picture of what happens in an electrolytic solution at the moment when the electric current is passing through it.”
“Thanks,” I laughed. “That was quite adequate to my immature understanding.”
Kennedy continued at work, checking up and arranging his data until the middle of the afternoon, when he went up to Stratfield.
Having nothing better to do, I wandered out about town in the hope of running across some one with whom to while away the hours until Kennedy returned. I found out that, since yesterday, Broadway had woven an entirely new background for the mystery. Now it was rumored that the lawyer Minturn himself had been on very intimate terms with Mrs. Pearcy. I did not pay much attention to the rumor, for I knew that Broadway is constitutionally unable to believe that anybody is straight.
Kennedy had commissioned me to keep in touch with Josephson and I finally managed to get around to the Baths, to find them still closed.
As I was talking with him, a very muddy and dusty car pulled up at the door and a young man whose face was marred by the red congested blood vessels that are in some a mark of dissipation burst in on us.
“What—closed up yet—Joe?” he asked. “Haven’t they taken Minturn’s body away?”
“Yes, it was sent up to Stratfield to-day,” replied the masseur, “but the coroner seems to want to worry me all he can.”
“Too bad. I was up almost all last night, and to-day I have been out in my car—tired to death. Thought I might get some rest here. Where are you sending the boys—to the Longacre?”
“Yes. They’ll take good care of you till I open up again. Hope to see you back again, then, Mr. Pearcy,” he added, as the young man turned and hurried out to his car again. “That was that young Pearcy, you know. Nice boy—but living the life too fast. What’s Kennedy doing—anything?”