"Oh, Mr. Boyne! Of course he wouldn't blame you. Neither would I. You acted for what you thought was his good. The others—"
"Vandeman's already gone home. Tell you he stood by well, Barbara—that tailor's dummy! Surprised me. No, no. Didn't let Jim Edwards come with us; so broken up I didn't want him along—only hurt our case over here, the way he is now."
"Your case?" she spoke out clearly. "What is the situation?"
"A murder charge against Worth on the secret files. Hughes is out—Cummings got him—took him, don't know where. Can't locate him."
"Do you need to?"
"Perhaps not, Barbara. What I do need is some one who saw Thomas Gilbert alive that night after Worth left to go back to San Francisco."
"And if you had that—some one?"
"If we could produce before Cummings one credible witness to that, it would mean an alibi. I'd have Worth out before morning."
"Then, Mr. Boyne, get to the Fremont House here as quickly as you can. Mr. Cummings is there. Get him out of bed if you have to. I'll bring the proof you need."
"But, child!" I began.