“All right—that and golf. I'm ready.”
And Jack Young worked to such good advantage that three days later he had a pretty complete report ready for his chief.
“Jean Forette has a girl,” said Jack; “and she's a little beauty, too. Mazi Rochette is her name. She's a maid in one of the swell families here, and she's dead gone on our friend Jean. I managed to get a talk with her, and she thinks he's going to marry her as soon as he gets another place. A better place than with the Carwells, she says he must have. This place was pretty much on the blink, she confided to me.”
“Or words to that effect,” laughed the colonel.
“Exactly. I'm not much on the French, you know. Still I got along pretty well with her. She took a notion to me.”
“I thought you might be able to get something in that direction,” said the colonel with a smile. “Did you learn where Jean was just prior to the golf game which was the last Mr. Carwell played?”
“Yes, he was with her, the girl says, and she didn't know why I was asking, either, I flatter myself. I led around to it in a neat way. He was with her until just before he drove Mr. Carwell to the links. In fact, Jean had the girl out for a spin in the new car, she says. She's afraid of it, though. Revolutionary devil, she calls it.”
“Hum! If Jean was with her just before he picked up Carwell to go to the game—well, the thing is turning out a bit different from what I expected. Jack, we still have plenty of work before us. Did I tell you Morocco Kate was mixed up in this?”
“No! Is she?”
“Seems to be.”