“Them things cost a lot of money,” her companion commented, “and that was inlaid like all the other things in her room. Gee! the way Mr. Faulkner spends the money on her is a crime.”
“Second wives have a cinch,” said the first girl, sneering. “From all I hear the first was a perfect lady and kind to the maids, but this one is down-right ordinary. You should have heard what she said about me over the ‘phone when she told the piano people to send a tuner up, and me standing there. Said I was “clumsy” and “stupid” and “a love-sick fool.” I could tell something about love-sick fools if I wanted to! And she knows it.”
Her friend cautioned her.
“Be careful,” she whispered, “you may want to lose your job but I don’t. Don’t talk so loud.”
It was hardly five o’clock. Anthony Trent left the car and started for a telephone booth. He went methodically through the lists of the better known piano makers. There was one firm whose high-priced instrument was frequently encased in rare woods for specially furnished rooms.
“This is Mr. Carr Faulkner’s secretary speaking,” he began when the number was given to him. “Have you been instructed to see about a piano here?”
“We are sending a man right away,” he was told.
“To-morrow morning will do,” said the supposed secretary. “We are giving a small dance to-night and it will not be convenient.”
“We should prefer to send now,” came the answer. “A valuable instrument might be extensively damaged if not attended to right away.”
Trent became confidential. He dropped his voice.