Josie had thought for a moment that Major Simpson and the youth were together, but in this she was mistaken. They had merely happened to come down the steps at the same time. The old man proceeded down the street while the young one came towards Josie. He was evidently unaware of her approach, Josie as usual wearing an aura of inconspicuousness that enabled her to pass persons without being noticed. But it so happened that as the young man got within a few feet of the girl he caught her eye. Josie was sure that for the flick of an eyelash there was recognition in his glance. Of course it might have been that he was aware of the fact that she lived in an apartment next to the one occupied by his family. But no! That glance of recognition had something furtive in it. Again she was sure that she had seen the youth before. Something about the spacing of his features was strangely familiar, something about his chin, the contour of his olive cheek.
“Well, time will tell, as Father used to say,” Josie mused, “and in the mean time I must get busy about other things.”
Mrs. Leslie’s manner was, to say the least, highly artificial when she greeted Josie on her return. The lady flushed and fluttered, treating Josie more like a guest than a member of the family.
“Let me take your coat, do,” she insisted.
“No, indeed.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee and some fresh doughnuts?”
“I certainly should! But let me come to the kitchen and attend to myself.”
“Oh no, I’ll bring a tray for you.” So the hostess burdened Josie with attentions, all the time with a strained excitement in her manner.
“I thought I saw Major Simpson coming from this house, just as I came around the corner. Could it have been he? He is Burnett & Burnett’s private detective.”
Mrs. Leslie was not a good dissembler but remembering the policy laid out for her by Major Simpson, she at first pretended she had burnt her hand on the coffee pot and must run put some soda on it and then when Josie repeated her question she feigned not to hear aright.