“I met him yesterday for the first time,” I replied, “but I have known of him before.”
“Where does he live?”
“Up around Gramercy Park somewhere, I think.”
“That’s right, he does. Well, the man is missing.”
“Missing! Why, I saw him last night,—that is, yesterday afternoon, and he was all right then.”
“I’ve had men searching for him all the morning,” the Chief went on, “and he’s nowhere to be found. He wasn’t at his rooms at all last night.”
I harked back. I had last seen Manning getting off the Third Avenue car at Twenty-second Street,—just where he would naturally get off to go to his home.
I told this, and concluded, “he must have changed his mind, then, and gone somewhere else than to his rooms.”
“Yes, it looks that way,” agreed the Chief. “But where did he go? That’s the question. He can’t be found.”