“Can’t see any likeness,” she declared. “He did remind me a little of him just at first, though,” she added, reflectively—“little things he said, and sort of mannerisms. I’ve sort of lost sight of them the last few times, though.”
“When is this meeting with Fitzgerald to come off?” John Dory asked abruptly.
She did not answer him at once. A low, triumphant smile had parted her lips.
“To-morrow night,” she said; “he is to meet me in Mr. Ruff’s office.”
“At what time?” John Dory asked.
“At eight o’clock,” she answered. “Mr. Ruff is keeping his office open late on purpose. Spencer thinks that afterwards he is going to take me out to dinner.”
“You are sure of this?” John Dory asked eagerly. “You are sure that the man Ruff does not suspect you? You believe he means that you shall meet Fitzgerald?”
“I am sure of it,” she answered. “He is even a little jealous,” she continued, with an affected laugh. “He told me—well, never mind!”
“He told you what?” John Dory asked.
She laughed.