Maynard laid down his cigarette case unopened. “Had Jones reported back when you were there, Hayden?” At the butler’s name Palmer looked up inquisitively.
“Come to think of it, I didn’t inquire,” exclaimed Hayden. “The housekeeper, Mrs. Ward, opened the door for me and I went right upstairs to see my two patients.”
Palmer stared abstractedly at his highly polished shoes then looked over at Maynard. “Have you notified Chief Connor that Jones has decamped?” he inquired.
Maynard waited until his cigarette was lighted before replying.
“I have not,” he said. “Chiefly because I am not altogether certain Jones has decamped. On inquiry I found that Jones has taken ‘French’ leave in the past, always to return some days later with some very pat explanation for his absence.”
Hayden laughed. “The Burnham household is a singular one,” he said, “whichever way you take it. There are Mr. and Mrs. Burnham, two totally opposite characters; there is Evelyn, young, impulsive, and charming; there is Mrs. Ward——” He hesitated. “A curious sort of woman, morose, secretive; then there is Jones;” he laughed again. “Jones is an oddity.”
“So odd that I have spent nearly twenty-four hours looking up his past career,” said Palmer dryly. “And I’ve dug up some interesting facts; for instance, Jones has never taken out his naturalization papers.”
“His naturalization papers?” Hayden sat bolt upright. “Isn’t Jones an American?”
“He is not,” replied Palmer. “Some day, Hayden, if this District is ever declared a barred zone for enemy aliens, many Washington hostesses will find themselves left servantless and the Kaiser will get just so much less first hand information about American war preparations.”
“Do you mean Jones is a German?” demanded Maynard, and into his mind flashed the recollection of his first impression when Jones admitted him on Tuesday night at the Burnhams’; he had then detected the faint trace of a foreign accent in his speech, but the butler’s knowledge of English had made him forget his first impression.