CHAPTER IV
THE GIRL OF THE CAR
“Oh,” she said, with a little gasp of recognition, “are you Mr. Orme?” Her cheeks flushed softly.
He bowed; his heart was beating furiously, and for the moment he dared not try to speak.
“Then we do meet again,” she exclaimed—“and as usual I need your help. Isn’t it queer?”
“Any service that I”—Orme began haltingly—“of course, anything that I can do——”
The girl laughed—a merry ripple of sound; then caught herself and changed her manner to grave earnestness. “It is very important,” she said. “I am looking for a five-dollar bill that was paid to you to-day.”
Orme started. “What? You, too?”