“The elevator boy, Jim, told me you were looking at the vacant apartment next to this, Maynard, and he had seen you afterward stop at Mrs. Van Ness’ door, so,” added Palmer, “I took the chance of finding you here.”
“Do you wish anything, Palmer?” Maynard rose reluctantly; he had hoped to prolong his tête-à-tête with Marian.
“It is nothing so very important,” replied Palmer. “Peter Burnham has telephoned several times to ask if you were with me; he wants you to play chess with him. I tried to locate you in several places, as I judged from Burnham’s voice that he was getting excited and I thought a game with you might quiet him down.”
“We can try it.” Maynard, picking up his hat, inadvertently knocked several papers from the desk. Picking them up he laid them with the red blotter back on the desk, and then he turned to Marian and held out his hand.
She shook it with perfunctory courtesy. “Do I understand you have taken the next apartment?” she asked and there was a catch in her throat which Palmer was quick to detect.
“I plan to.” Maynard preceded Palmer to the door. “You will find me a quiet neighbor. Good night.”
Palmer, following Maynard closely, was surprised at the speed with which the door was closed behind him, almost upon his back in fact. He was about to comment upon it, but his companion’s preoccupied expression and air induced him to remain silent.
Mammy, who had shut the door with such precipitancy, leaned against its panels and looked with staring eyes at Marian.
“I’se recognized him now, Honey,” she gasped. “At las’ I’se recognized him, I mean his voice——”
“Stop!” Marian laid a warning finger on the old woman’s trembling lips. “We mustn’t tell all we know. Come and help me get to bed. I am tired, oh, so tired,” and to Mammy’s consternation she burst into violent weeping as she ran into her bedroom.