He was selfishly glad in her answer. “Do we walk?” he asked.
“We will go in the motor,” she said.
“Where is it?”
“I left it around the corner. The thought came to me that Mr. Poritol might be here, and I didn’t wish him to recognize it.”
Orme thought of the hard quest the girl had followed that day—battling for her father’s interests. What kind of a man could that father be to let his daughter thus go into difficulties alone? But she had said that her father was unable to leave the house. Probably he did not know how serious the adventure might be. Or was the loss of the papers so desperate that even a daughter must run risks?
Together they went out to the street. Orme caught a dubious glance from the clerk, as they passed through the lobby, and he resented it. Surely anyone could see——
The girl led the way around the corner into a side street. There stood the car. He helped her in and without a word saw that she was restfully and comfortably placed in the seat next to the chauffeur’s. She did not resist the implication of his mastery.
He cranked up, leaped to the seat beside her, and took the levers. “Which way, Girl?” he asked.
“North,” she answered.
The big car swung out in the Lake Shore Drive and turned in the direction of Lincoln Park.