"Well, I did so, and I have an answer from him."
"Who is he? What does he say?"
"His name is George Clayton."
"Why, I have often heard my father speak of him."
"Yes; well, I had a letter from him the other day. It was forwarded to me from Chicago."
"What does he say? Does he recall anything out of the ordinary concerning my father?"
"That's what I can't tell. He doesn't say anything, except that he will meet me in Detroit. So he may know something, and, again, he may not. I suppose you haven't learned anything more from Mr. Bumstead?"
"No. He hasn't said much to me since the trouble over the cigarettes."
"Did you ask him any more about the pocketbook?"
"I started to speak to him about it, intending to inquire if he couldn't possibly be mistaken, but he refused to talk about it and turned away, saying the wallet was his, and had been for a long time."