Mitchell considered the pretty widow before replying. Her limpid brown eyes were raised to his with an appealing earnestness that was irresistible.
“I am on my way to see Major Wallace now,” he said. “I had hoped to overtake him before he reached the Munitions Building.”
“Not by walking, surely,” she laughed. “Major Wallace is driving his car to-day and he seldom keeps within the city’s speed limit. And to-day was no exception judging from the way he passed me on the way downtown.”
“Indeed?” He turned so that he could face her as they talked. “His landlady informed me that Major Wallace plans to leave shortly for the west.”
Mrs. Parsons raised her eyebrows in polite surprise. “So soon,” she murmured. “How odd! And—” her voice gained in sharpness, “does Edward Rodgers also plan to leave Washington?”
“I don’t know what he had planned,” with quiet emphasis. “But he is not going anywhere just now.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was shot last night.”
Mrs. Parsons’ convulsive jump almost precipitated her out of the car as the chauffeur made the turn into the street leading to the Munitions Building.
“What—what did you say?” she stammered.