Chapter II
The Marble Heart
"I'm going to get acquainted with the people in this case," remarked Kennedy, as he left the Wilford apartment,"and first of all it will be with Vance Shattuck."
We found that Shattuck lived in a rather sumptuous bachelor apartment farther up the Drive, to which we were admitted by his Japanese valet, who led the way into a sort of den, then disappeared to summon his master.
As we waited in the den I glanced about. It was a most attractive and fascinating place. There were innumerable curios that seemed to have been gathered from all over the world. Nor were they merely thrown together in a jumble. It was artistic, too, with a masculine art.
From the manner of the valet, though he had said nothing, I somehow gathered that Shattuck had been waiting for something or somebody. It was no longer early in the morning and I knew that he must have been neglecting his business, that is, if he really had any to neglect. I wondered why he should be doing so.
A few minutes later Shattuck himself appeared, a slim, debonair, youngish-old man, with dark hair of the sort that turns iron-gray in spots even in youth. Somehow he gave the impression of being a man of few words, of being on guard even thus early in our meeting.
"You have evidently traveled considerably," commented Kennedy, as he entered and we introduced ourselves.
"Yes, a great deal, before the war," replied Shattuck, guardedly watching.
"In Africa, I see," added Kennedy, who had been examining some striking big-game photographs that hung on a side wall.
"Once I was in Africa—yes. But I contracted a fever there. It has left me unable to stand the fatigue I used to stand. However, I'm all right—otherwise—and good for a great many years in this climate—so my doctor tells me."
"Doctor Lathrop?" suggested Kennedy, quickly.
Shattuck evaded replying."To what am I indebted for the honor?" he queried, coldly now, still standing and not offering us seats.
"I suppose you have heard of the death of Vail Wilford?" asked Kennedy, coming directly to the point.
"Yes. I have just learned that he was found dead in his office, the lights turned on, and with a note left by him to his wife. It's very sudden."
"You were acquainted with Honora Wilford, I believe?"
Shattuck flashed a quick glance sidewise.
"We went to school together."
"And were engaged once, were you not?"
Shattuck looked at Kennedy keenly.
"Yes," he replied, hastily."But what business of yours—or anybody's, for that matter—is that?" A moment later he caught himself."That is," he added,"I mean—how did you know that? It was a sort of secret, I thought, between us. She broke it off—not I."
"She broke off the engagement?"
"Yes—a story about an escapade of mine, and all that sort of thing, that kind mutual friends do so well for one in repeating—but! by Jove, I like your nerve, sir, to talk about it—to me. The fact of the matter is, I prefer not to talk about it. There are some incidents in a man's life, particularly where a woman is concerned, that are a closed book."
He said it with a mixture of defiance and finality.
"Quite true," hastened Kennedy, briskly,"but a murder has been committed. The police have been called in. Everything must be gone over carefully. We can't stand on any ceremony no
