The Chief looked up, glowering at me from under his big eyebrows:
"What's your opinion of this Maitland woman?"
"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong about her—I mean I'd never get that impression from her general make-up. But before I tapped that message, I did get a hunch that she was sort of abstracted and shut away in herself. She'd lonesome habits and she'd look downhearted when she thought no one saw her. I'd size her up roughly as some one who wasn't easy in her mind."
"Have you ever heard anything of her having any sort of affair or friendship with Price?"
"Not a hint of it. That's what made me sit up and take notice. Under everybody's eye the way they were and yet not a soul suspecting anything—you're not as secret as that for nothing."
"While they were talking on the 'phone did you notice anything in their voices—it certainly wasn't in the words—that suggested tenderness or love?"
"No, it was more as if they knew each other well. He sounded as if he was trying to jolly her along, keep up her spirits; and she as if she was scared, not at him but at what he might do."
"They'd be careful," said Mr. George. "A man and a woman who were involved in some dangerous scheme wouldn't coo at each other over the wire like two turtle doves."
"Love's hard to hide," said the old man, "betrays itself in small ways. And Molly's got a fine, trained ear."
"Well, it caught no love there, Chief. The only person at Grasslands who's got that complaint is Mrs. Price. She's in love with Mr. Ferguson."