“Really!” she said with a little start of surprise.
“Oh, yes,” ran on the glib Barnes, “they are lifelong chums––love each other like brothers; one of those Castor and Pollox affairs, you know––only more so. Never have any secrets from each other and all that sort of thing.”
Helen dropped back into her chair and her brow wrinkled with perplexity.
“That’s curious,” she said. “I don’t think Travers ever spoke to me about that kind of a friend.”
The idea was just burgeoning in her mind to ask for the friend’s name when Barnes hastened on:
“Well, now that is singular. Are you sure that”––
The sudden brisk return of Travers Gladwin saved Barnes from an immediate excruciating tax upon his ingenuity.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Gladwin, going to Helen and shaking his head regretfully, “but I couldn’t find him.”
“Oh, dear! That’s very provoking!” cried Helen. “He didn’t say he was going out, did he?”
“No; I could have sworn he was here a few minutes ago,” spoke up Barnes, turning his head away for fear his smile would suddenly get out of control.