“I can’t say. Hallen doesn’t know himself. But he says there’s a connection.”
“There may be. But unless it’s a connection that will free the Wheelers from suspicion, it doesn’t interest me.”
Allen left the detective, who made no effort to detain him, and went to the den for a talk with Mr. Wheeler.
But that gentleman, locked in the room, declared through the closed door that he would see nobody.
“Sorry, Jeff,” he said, in a kindly tone, “but you must excuse me at present. Give me the day to myself. I’ll see you late this afternoon.”
As it was already noon, Allen made no further attempt at an interview and went in search of Mrs. Wheeler. It seemed to him he must talk to some of the family, and he hadn’t the heart to disturb Maida, who might be resting.
Mrs. Wheeler’s maid said that her mistress would see him in a few minutes. And it was only a few minutes later that the lady came downstairs and greeted Allen, who awaited her in the living-room.
“What are we going to do?” she exclaimed to him. “Do help us, Jeff. Did I do right?”
“In lying to save some one you love? Yes, I suppose so.”
But Sara Wheeler had very acute hearing. Even as they spoke, she heard a slight movement on the porch outside, and realized at once that a detective was listening to her every word.