“Well, I’m not,” he said, “and I never heard of him. I’m new here—just came two days ago.”
“Two days, eh?” said the stranger. “That was Wednesday, eh?”
“I shouldn’t have told him that,” thought Ross, dismayed. “But, good Lord, I can’t remember to lie all the time! And, anyhow, what difference can it make—when I came here?”
But he could see, from the stranger’s face, that it had made a difference.
“You came here on Wednesday,” he continued. “I wonder, now, did you happen to see any one—”
“No!” shouted Ross. “I didn’t see any one. I didn’t see anything. I never heard of your Ives. Go and ask some one else. I’m busy!”
“I don’t want to bother you,” said the stranger, grown very mild. “I can see you’re busy. But it’s a pretty serious thing. You see, Ives came to Stamford on[Pg 467] Tuesday. I’ve traced him that far. And after that—he’s disappeared.”
“Well, do you think I’ve got him hidden here?”
“My name’s Donnelly,” the stranger went on. “And I’ve come out here to find Ives.”
“All right! I wish you luck!”