A moment later the expressman entered, with Bertholdi.
"You may take that one," indicated Elaine.
"Miss Dodge, here's something else to go in," said Bertholdi in desperation, picking up a dress.
"Never mind. Put it in the other trunk."
Bertholdi was baffled, but she managed to control herself. She must get word to Del Mar about that trunk marked "E. Dodge."
. . . . . . .
Late that afternoon, before a cheap restaurant might have been seen our old friend who had posed as Bailey and as the Mexican. He entered the restaurant and made his way to the first of a row of booths on one side.
"Hello," he nodded to a girl in the booth.
Bertholdi nodded back and he took his seat. She had begged an hour or two off on some pretext.
Outside the restaurant, a heavily-bearded man had been standing looking intently at nothing in particular when Bertholdi entered. As Bailey came along, he followed and took the next booth, his hat pulled over his eyes. In a moment he was listening, his ear close up to the partition.