"I'll do my best, sir, but don't show me the parasol, only describe it. I wouldn't like the fellows to chaff me if I fail; I'd rather go quietly to work and raise no foolish expectations."
"Well, then, it is one of those dainty, nonsensical things made of gray chiffon, with pearl handle and bows of pink ribbon. I don't believe it was ever used before, and from the value women usually place on such fol-de-rols, could only have been left behind under the stress of extraordinary emotion or fear. The name of the owner was not on it."
"Nor that of the maker?"
Mr. Gryce had expected this question, and was glad not to be disappointed.
"No, that would have helped us too much."
"And the hour at which this lady was seen on the curbstone at Hudson's?"
"Half-past four; the moment at which the telephone message arrived."
"Very good, sir. It is the hardest task I have ever undertaken, but that's not against it. When shall I see you again?"
"When you have something to impart. Ah, wait a minute. I have my suspicion that this woman's first name is Evelyn. But, mind, it is only a suspicion."
"All right, sir," and with an air of some confidence, the young man disappeared.