“You remember my telling you about a young woman I’d helped to land a job in San Francisco?”
Bertha gave the question frowning consideration. “Another woman?”
“Not another one. The one we were talking about. The one whose letter you saw.”
“Oh. The one who called you Sindbad?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about her?”
“She’s going to help out.”
“In what?”
“In giving me enough money to clean up this judgment. She’s been making a good salary, putting it away, and making an investment here and there. She’s got twenty-three hundred dollars in the savings bank. I can raise the other two hundred dollars. Go ahead and close the deal with Nunnely.”
“How did you get in touch with this woman,” Bertha asked. “By telephone?”