As Mitchell hurried to the side of the automobile, its owner stepped on the running board and faced him.
“Mr. Potter!” exclaimed Mitchell. “Did they tell you at Headquarters that I was here?”
Potter peered at him in uncertainty for a second. “Oh, Inspector,” he said. “I’m glad to see you, but I had no idea you were here. The fact is,” lowering his voice as Allen, tired of waiting in Mitchell’s car, climbed out on the sidewalk and drew near the two men. “My wife called up Miss Baird and couldn’t get an answer. We both felt concerned about my cousin and I ran over to see if anything was the matter. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to Miss Baird,” Mitchell answered. “However, she is out—”
“Out? At this hour?”
“Yes. Mandy told me that she was motoring with Mr. Rodgers,” explained Mitchell. “I decided to wait for her return, and when you drove up, I thought it was Mr. Rodgers.”
Potter’s expression hardened. “I don’t approve of Kitty going out at night with Rodgers without a chaperon,” he grumbled. “Nor is it proper for her to live in this lonely house with only ignorant servants.” He turned back to his car and lifted out a camera and several packages. “Kitty left these at our apartment on Saturday, and Nina asked me to bring them to her before the chemicals get mixed with mine.”
“Chemicals,” repeated Mitchell softly. “What kind of chemicals?”
“For developing negatives.” Potter started for the house and Mitchell kept pace with him. “Kitty has quite a craze that way—does good work for an amateur. Some of her animal studies are excellent, especially of her cat, Mouchette.”
“Seems to me there are quite a number of poisons used in developing films and negatives,” Mitchell remarked thoughtfully.