“I haven’t thought it out yet.”
“Well, get busy.”
“I am busy,” the stolid Captain would answer, and go on about his business.
But the two were staunch friends and allies, and possessed the qualities that enabled them to work side by side without friction.
“You see,” said Steele, as they were closeted in the Reception Room, “it’s more or less a psychological problem.”
They liked this room for their confabs. The small size and convenient location suited their purpose admirably. They could shut its two doors, and be entirely secluded or they could open them and get a general idea of what was going on about the house.
“Snug little box,” Bobsy had said, when he first saw it, and the walls and ceiling being all of the same general decoration in red and gold, did give it the effect of a well lined box. It was used by the family for the reception of transient callers, and was more formal than the studio or Billiard Room. The Terrace, too, was used as a living place, in available weather, and even now as the two men were deep in their discussion, there could be seen through the south window some servants arranging a small breakfast table out there.
“Psychology is out of my line,” Roberts said, in answer to the Captain’s assertion.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything scientific. But, it’s this way. One of those women is lying and one telling the truth. Now, if we tax them with this, we’ll get nothing out of them, for they’re both at the edge of a nervous breakdown.”
“The innocent one, too?”