“No.” It was Lois’ turn to study her companion. “I have heard that he is very much in love with Ethel,” she paused, but Mrs. Ogden made no comment, and she continued somewhat hurriedly. “Is Mr. Barclay remaining here through the winter?”
“He is not.” Mrs. Ogden’s decided tone spoke volumes. “Walter, my husband, is very much displeased with him; we do not approve”—she broke off nervously.
“Then you do not think him a suitable match for Ethel?”
“Frankly, I don’t, and I never dreamed”—Mrs. Ogden stopped abruptly. “Julian’s behavior at times has been a source of grave anxiety to his relations.”
“I confess I was favorably impressed with Mr. Barclay last night,” Lois remarked. “I am sorry to learn he is eccentric.”
“Eccentric is hardly the word,” Mrs. Ogden’s conscience somewhat reproached her for so openly criticizing a relative and a guest in her house, but Julian Barclay was becoming an obsession, and she could not stop talking about him altogether. “He is a bit queer—morbid—and he is most decidedly not the man to make Ethel happy. Their—their temperaments are too much alike for perfect harmony.”
What comment, if any, Lois would have made, remained unspoken, as Walter Ogden and Professor Norcross joined them.
“Walter, do ring for tea!” exclaimed Mrs. Ogden, after the men had greeted Lois. “Charles should have brought it before now.”
“We have no time for tea,” replied her husband brusquely. “We are all summoned to the inquest on poor Patterson.”
“What? Now?” and his wife looked at him aghast.