"When does he return?"
"Maybe late this evening ... maybe not until to-morrow."
Suspicious old eyes searched her face. "Sure he isn't in?"
"I told you once, didn't I?"
"He may return to-day?"
"Maybe."
"I'll wait."
Passers in and out of the offices remembered his shoving a paper hurriedly into his pocket as they neared.
About an hour later, when the information clerk left for a few minutes, he rose, and started to open the door marked "Paul Judson: Private."
"Where you going?" an accounting clerk demanded, watching his unusual movements.