"No," he answered, listlessly, "I haven't thought about it. When do you see her again, Mr. Lester?"
"I'm to see her to-night."
"Will you give her a note from me?"
"Yes," I agreed.
His face lighted again at that, and he cleared a corner of his table and sat down to write the note. It was evidently difficult to compose, for he tore up two drafts before he got one to suit him. But at last it was done, and he folded it, rummaged an envelope out of a pile of papers on a chair, slipped the note into it, and handed it to me.
"There," he said, and his face was bright with hope. "I think that will settle it."
I was far from sharing his certainty, but I put the envelope in my pocket, assured myself that there was nothing more I could do for him, and returned to the office. Just as I was getting ready to leave, Mr. Royce came in, a chagrined look on his face.
"Mrs. Royce just telephoned me," he said. "She drove out there, as I asked her to, but Miss Vaughan refused to see her."
I had expected it, but the certainty that we had failed again did not add to my cheerfulness.
"Swain wants us to kidnap her," I said, with a twisted smile.