"If I'd got a photograph, I should have headed for Japan, not for France." I laughed, but I was thinking deeply. His line of reasoning as to the incongruity of the marriage was not so different from my own that I could sneer at his suspicions. Very convincingly, as became a practical-minded man, he expanded his views as to the unlikelihood of my uncle's marrying a girl but little beyond school age. I shrank from telling him that I didn't care a hang whether the widow was a fraud or not. If the two women who had settled themselves on the Barton estate were imposters, they were extraordinarily daring and clever. My attitude toward them was wholly defensive. If women of their quality were perpetrating a fraud, I was for giving them every chance, and I had no intention of allowing Torrence to spoil the unfolding of the conspiracy.
We were nearing a gateway where his car waited, and I saw several of the guard hanging about at a discreet distance. "Look here, Singleton," he said angrily, "you don't seem to take this business very seriously. You don't want to make the mistake of letting a pretty girl pull the wool over your eyes. If we're not careful, we're all of us likely to get into trouble." He lowered his voice and added tensely: "Those women are under suspicion of something more serious than an attempt to rob an estate. An agent of the American State Department called on me yesterday and asked embarrassing questions about Mrs. Bashford. Not a Secret Service man, you understand, or anything of that kind, but an important man in the State Department."
"Of course you knew nothing to tell," I suggested as he beat the walk impatiently with his stick.
"I took a chance at lying to him about her expected arrival. I thought it only decent to have a look at the woman first. He told me nothing except that the British Embassy had made inquiries and that the matter was delicate and must be handled carefully."
"Was this inquirer lame—a small dark man with a black mustache?" I asked, suddenly interested. "Such a person has been hanging about here, so the boys tell me?"
"Not at all! I may as well tell you it was Raynor—you probably remember him. He's a specialist in international law, and they took him into the State Department just after the Lusitania business. He's a gentleman and a good fellow—I've played golf with him a good deal—and I hated to lie to him. Of course, with the whole United States back of him he can pursue his inquiries without my help; but I thought I'd see this woman before telling him she had reached America."
I confess that I was a trifle dismayed by this. Raynor I knew slightly. Professionally and socially he stood high, and even without the prestige of his official position he was not a chap to sneeze at; but I didn't want Torrence to know I had any doubts as to the perfect authenticity of my uncle's widow.
"Oh, every transcontinental pilgrim is probably scrutinized closely these days," I remarked carelessly. "Mrs. Bashford has lost a brother in the war, and I haven't heard any one talk more bitterly against Germany. And her companion certainly has no illusions about the Kaiser. You'd have to show me the proof to make me believe we're harboring spies."
"I don't like the business," he declared stubbornly.
"Let's do nothing foolish," I insisted. "If Raynor has reason to suspect either or both of these women, we'll hear further from him."