“I can’t tell you much more, only I suspect the burden of the family support has been dumped upon the shoulders of the oldest daughter. And I don’t know how she would be able to carry it in this man-ridden town.”
“The mother?” Bromley suggested.
“A dear lady, I should say, from what little I saw of her, but helpless.”
“I understand; a woman who has never had to do for herself anything that black servants could do for her.”
“Something of that sort,” said Philip.
“Tell me what you’ve done toward locating them.”
Philip briefed the story of the day’s efforts, and Bromley held his peace while the waiter was clearing the table for the dessert. But afterward he said: “Your note may bring the required information; but if it doesn’t, we’ve got to think up some other way. Miss Jean and her family must be found, if they are still in Denver.”
Philip looked up quickly. “How did you know her name?” he demanded; and Bromley laughed.
“Didn’t you christen the ‘Little Jean’?” he asked. “It didn’t require any great amount of clairvoyance to figure out where the name came from. What is the rest of it?”
“Dabney.”