"Don't I know it? I tell you I like you and I like him—and I think his father's a stiff-backed, circumstantial, ancestor-ridden damn fool…. Something's happened or Foote wouldn't be telephoning around. He's got reason to be frightened, and good and frightened. … A girl, especially a girl in your place, hasn't any business being mixed up in any mess, much less with a young millionaire…. That's why I'm not minding my own business. You work for me, don't you—and ain't I responsible for you, sort of? Well, then? Were you with Bonbright last night?"
"Yes, sir."
"Huh!… Something happened, didn't it?" "Nothing that—Mr. Foote had anything to do with—"
"But something happened. What?"
"I can't tell you, Mr. Lightener."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
"When did you see him last?"
"A little after nine o'clock last night."