“Perhaps that will be wise,” agreed Miss Carwell. “But I can't forget how careless LeGrand Blossom was in the matter of the loan your father had from the bank. If he's that careless, his word won't be worth much, I'm afraid.”
“Oh, any one is likely to make a mistake,” said Viola. “I'll telephone to Mr. Blossom and ask him to come here and have a talk with us. It will give me something to think about. Besides—”
She did not finish, but went to the instrument and was soon talking to the chief clerk in the office Mr. Carwell maintained while at his summer home.
“He'll be up within an hour,” Viola reported. “Now I'm going to have a talk with the colonel,” and she hastened to the library.
The old detective was smoking a cigar, which he hastened to lay aside when Viola made her entrance, but she raised a restraining hand.
“Smoke as much as you like,” she said. “I am used to it.”
“Thank you,” and he pulled forward a chair for her.
“Oh, haven't you found out anything yet?” she burst out. “Can't you say anything definite?”
Colonel Ashley shook his head in negation.
“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I'm just as sorry about it as you are. But I have seldom had a case in which there were so many clews that lead into blind allies. I was just trying to arrange a plan of procedure that I thought might lead to something.”