Mr. Janney began to give forth inarticulate sounds again and his wife said with a sort of dreary resignation:
"Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Maitland. Nobody does. Mrs. Price is not responsible; she doesn't know what she's saying."
"Of course, of course," came in Whitney's deep, bland voice, "we all understand Mrs. Price's feelings—quite natural under the circumstances. And Miss Maitland's too." He rose and pressed a bell near the door. "Now if you've heard all you want I'll call in George and we'll talk this over. And Miss Maitland," he turned to her, urbanely kind and courteous, "could I trouble you to go back to Mr. Quincy's office; just for a little while? We won't keep you waiting very long this time."
A very dapper young man had answered the summons and under his escort Esther withdrew. Whitney went to a third door connecting with his son's rooms, opened it and said in a low voice:
"George, go and get Molly. We're ready for her now."
Coming back, he stood for a moment by the desk, and swept the faces of his clients with a meaning look:
"What you're going to hear from Mrs. Babbitts will be something of a shock. She's unearthed several rather startling facts that in my opinion bear on this present event and what led up to it. It's a peculiar situation and involves not only Price but Miss Maitland."
Mrs. Janney stared:
"Miss Maitland and Chapman! What sort of a situation?"
"At this stage I'll simply say mysterious. But I'm afraid, my dear friend, that your confidence in the young woman has been misplaced. However, before I go any further I'll let you hear what Mrs. Babbitts has to say and draw your own conclusions."