"Just so! And when she goes to that particular portion of the docks, it must be to take a trans-Atlantic liner."
Curtiss stared at me for a moment as though not understanding; then he rose heavily to his feet.
"Well, I can follow her even there," he said, and started for the door.
But Mr. Royce had him by the arm.
"My dear Curtiss!" he protested. "Think what a wild-goose chase you're starting on!"
"Better than sitting idle here," retorted Curtiss doggedly; and I could not but agree with him.
"Perhaps we can narrow the search down a little," I said. "Suppose we drive around to the West Street office."
"Just what I was about to do," said Curtiss, and led the way to the elevator.
During that drive across town, we found little to say. Curtiss was deep in his own thoughts, and I saw from the way Mr. Royce looked at him, how anxious he was concerning him. But at last we reached our destination.
"Can you give me any description of the person who sent this message?" I asked, and spread out the telegram before the man at the desk. "Perhaps you'll let us see the original."