“He might be able to give you news about your father,” O’Gorman said aside to Miss Mar. But before she answered he saw, from the sudden fear in the girl’s face, that she couldn’t risk having bawled at her in public tidings that more and more she dreaded.
“He—Mr. Cheviot will soon be back,” she said.
“Has he been in Nome all winter?—your Beluga friend?” Mrs. Locke asked O’Gorman.
“Yes, I guess so.”
“I’d like to inquire about my firm, Dixon and Blumenstein.” O’Gorman called out the question for her.
“Lots o’ folks inquirin’ ’bout Dixon and Blumenstein,” the man on the whaler roared back.
“How so?”
“Lit out.”
“Gone away?”
“You bet.”