“If it is Phil, he ought to be shown up. We can’t stop now, for sentiment or preference. We must go ahead and prove positively who is the criminal.”
When Millicent took the tone of an avenging justice, she was almost humorous, so ill did the role fit her. But she was in earnest, and she immediately set to work to engage the services of Pennington Wise.
Her efforts were vain, however, as the detective politely informed her that his press of business would not permit him to take on another case at present.
Greatly disappointed, she told Phyllis, who at once told Ivy Hayes, over the telephone, of her defeat.
“Huh,” said the young woman, “won’t come, won’t he? Well, I guess he will. Expect him this evening, to talk over the preliminaries.”
For the sanguine Ivy felt sure her childhood friend could somehow persuade the great detective to meet the engagement she had just committed him to.
“Zizi,” Miss Hayes later remarked, to her friend, “You just simply got to take on the Gleason case. You hear me?”
“Hear you perfectly,” Zizi’s engaging little voice replied. “But——”
“No buts. You just do it. Why, Ziz, it’s all mixed up with friends of mine. And say, dearie, I want you to do it for old times’ sake.”
“But, Ivy, truly——”