"I was going to take him with me."
"I don't see how you can do that."
"Why not?"
"Because, if any attempt is made to follow us, he would be a certain means of identification."
There was silence for a time. Grace heard the sounds of drawers being opened and shut, as the two women hurried through their task. Who was Jack, she wondered? There had been no sounds to indicate the presence of a third person in the next room.
Presently she heard the voices again.
"I think the whole affair has been a mistake, anyway," one of them said petulantly. "I don't see what you have gained by it."
"I've gotten my revenge on that baby-faced Morton girl. The stuck-up thing. I'll bet she won't act again in a hurry. What right has she to be getting a thousand a week, when they wouldn't give me a chance at any price? I may not be as good-looking as she is, but I'm a better actress. I hate her. I believe she told the director I wouldn't do—that's why I didn't get the job. And after running down to the studio every day for three weeks, too. I hate her, I tell you. I hope she's never able to act again." The woman spoke with an intensity, a violence that made Grace shudder.
"How do you ever suppose they came to connect me with the matter?" the other woman said after a time. "They didn't know my address, at the studio. And even if they had, I have never been seen with you. I don't see why they ever suspected me."
"I don't know. That man Duvall is pretty shrewd, though. I did manage to get away from him, the other night. I'd like to have seen his face, when he got back to the cab and found me gone."