ver.

"I wish that you would make inquiries about regarding Mrs. Barry," he
said finally as we reached the subway. "I'm going down again to the
little room we hired and watch. You'll find me at the laboratory later
tonight."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE PERPETUAL MOTION MACHINE

I tried my best, but there was very little that I could find out about
Mrs. Barry. No one seemed to know where she came from, and even "Mr.
Barry" seemed shrouded in obscurity. I was convinced, however, that she
was an adventuress.

One thing, however, I did turn up. She had called on Tresham at his
office a number of times, usually late in the afternoon, and he had
taken her to dinner and to the theater. Apparently he knew her a great
deal better than he had been willing to admit to us. I was not
surprised, for, like a good many men of his class, Tresham was better
known in the white light district than one might suspect. Mrs. Barry had
all the marks of being good company on such an excursion.

On the way uptown, I stopped off in the neighborhood of Longacre Square
in the hope of picking up some more gossip at one or another of the
clubs. Tresham was a member of several, though as near as I could find
out, used them more for business than social reasons. On Broadway it was
different, however. There he was known as a liberal spender and lover of
night life. Like many others he now and then accumulated quite large
bills. I wondered whether Mrs. Barry had not found out and taken
advantage of his weakness.

It was, as I have said, comparatively little that I had been able to
discover, yet when I met Kennedy again, later in the evening, at his
laboratory, he listened eagerly to what I had to report.

"Did anything happen downtown?" I asked when I had finished.

"Nothing much," he returned. "Of course, listening over the geophone, I
couldn't watch the Bank Building, too. There's something very queer
about Creighton. I could hear him at work in the room upstairs until
quite late, making a lot of noise. If I don't find out anything more
definite soon, I shall have to adopt some other measures."

"You didn't do anything more about that electrolysis clew?" I queried.

"Nothing," he replied briefly, "except that I inquired of the electric
light company and found out that Creighton, or someone in his building,
was using a good deal of power."

"That looks bad," I ventured, remembering the claims made for the engine
and the comparatively weak