“Do arrange it. I want you so much.”
Now, when a little flower-faced girl looks pleadingly out of heavenly colored eyes, and her red mouth quivers with fear of being refused, few men have the power to say no. Anyway, Bobsy hadn’t, and he managed to “arrange” it, and in a few moments they were on their way.
“I thought you’d want to see Stannard,” he said.
“No, I’d rather not, until I see if I can get the great Mr. Ford.”
The little car ate up the miles, and soon they were in the crowded streets of the city.
Alan Ford was in his office, and received them with his characteristic quiet dignity.
The tall, big man looked taller than ever as he stood beside the petite model, his grey eyes looking down into her eager blue ones.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, kindly, and smiled at her because he couldn’t help it. The winsome face made everybody smile from sheer gladness of looking at it.
“Can you take a case, Mr. Ford? An important murder case?”
“The Stannard case?”