Allerton had drawn from his conversation with Barbara this one practical suggestion. As he had 300 months before consulted his lawyer, Mr. Nailes, as to ways of losing Letty after she had been found, he might consult him as to ways of finding her now that she had been lost. Mr. Nailes would not go to the police. He would apply to some discreet house of detectives who would do the work discreetly.
“Then, I presume, you’ve changed your mind about this marriage,” was Mr. Nailes’ not unnatural inference, “and mean to go on with it.”
“N-not exactly.” Allerton was still unable to define his intentions. “I only don’t want her to disappear—like this.”
Mr. Nailes pondered. He was a tall, raw-boned man, of raw-boned countenance, to whom the law represented no system of divine justice, but a means by which Eugene Nailes could make money, as his father had made it before him. Having inherited his father’s practice he had inherited Rashleigh Allerton, the two fathers having had a long-standing business connection. Mr. Nailes had no high opinion of Rashleigh Allerton—in which he was not peculiar—but a client with so much money was entitled to his way. At the same time he couldn’t have been human without urging a point of common sense.
“If you don’t want to—to continue your—your relation with this—this lady, doesn’t it strike you that now might be a happy opportunity––?”
Allerton did what he did rarely; he struck the table with his fist. “I want to find her.”
The words were spoken with so much force that to Mr. Nailes they were conclusive. It was far from his intention to compel anyone to common sense, and 301 least of all a man whose folly might bring increased fees to the firm of Nailes, Nailes, and Nailes.
It was agreed that steps should be taken at once, and that Mr. Nailes would report in the evening. Gravely was the name Allerton was sure she would use, and the only one that needed to be mentioned. It needed only to be mentioned too that Mr. Nailes was acting for a client who preferred to remain anonymous.
It was further agreed that Mr. Nailes should report at Allerton’s office at ten that evening, in person if there was anything to discuss, by telephone if there was nothing. This was convenient for Mr. Nailes, who lived in the neighborhood of Washington Square, while it protected Rash from household curiosity. At ten that night he was, therefore, in the unusual position of pacing the rooms he had hardly ever seen except by daylight.