“That boy of mine is crazy to be an artist and he runs next door now and then to see Orbit’s paintings. Never took much stock in that sort of thing myself. Sorry I can’t give you any further information about that valet, but I don’t see why you should come to me, anyway!”
“Well, you’ve got the finest house on the block, except the closed-up one just over the way, and I supposed you’d know the folks that live in the others,” McCarty explained. “Does any of them do anything but clip coupons?”
“We all know each other, of course.” There was a softened note of genial patronage in his tone. “I don’t know what it can have to do with your investigation but we’re none of us what you would probably call the ‘idle rich.’ I manage several estates for relatives besides my own, Burminster over there works harder than any of his clerks, looking after his enormous holdings, Gardner Sloane—whom you met last night—is a prominent banker, Benjamin Parsons a philanthropist and Mrs. Bellamy’s late husband was a broker. Orbit doesn’t go in for finance, his money is all soundly invested, and I don’t believe he touches half his income, but his contributions to art and science and literature have been almost incalculable.”
“Have they, so!” interjected McCarty, considerably impressed. “And are the Burminsters and the Parsons friends of Orbit, too?”
“The Burminsters, yes, but when I said we all knew each other here in the Mall I spoke generally. The Parsons are comparative strangers to all of us, although they have been here for two generations—no, three—Benjamin Parsons’ young niece makes the third. No one here between these gates knows them.”
“What’s wrong with them?” McCarty demanded, adding with a very sober countenance: “Wasn’t there time in the two generations to get acquainted?”
Goddard shrugged.
“Not in their estimation, evidently. From the beginning they held themselves aloof and made it plain that they wanted no social intercourse with the rest of us here; they live in a world of their own and for years none of us has tried to invade it. Orbit’s newer than they—his father bought that house next door within my memory,—but he’s a different sort.”
“Yet you’re not intimate with him, you tell me. Who are his close friends, informal-like? You’d know that, being his neighbor.”
“I know nothing at all about Orbit’s friends, and I fail to see what they’d have to do with his valet’s murder!” Goddard flared out. “I’ve been pretty patient with you, but this is a confounded impertinence! Why don’t you look up the associates of the fellow himself and not annoy us with such an affair? He was killed miles away from here in some vile slum, as I understand it; it’s insufferable that Orbit’s neighbors should be dragged into your investigation!”