"He hasn't a machine like that. This is a big touring car." She turned to her husband. "Hadn't you better go in and fix up a bit, Dick? It may be company."
Duvall laughed. "If it is, they'll have to take me as I am," he said; then again called to the dog.
A moment later the servant, who had interviewed the caller at the front door, came out to the side porch. "Gentleman to see you, Mr. Duvall," she said. "Seems to be in a powerful hurry, too."
"All right, Aunt Lucy," said Duvall as he made his way to the front of the house.
"Is this Richard Duvall?" the visitor asked, in a quick, almost peremptory tone, as the detective joined him.
"Yes. That is my name. What can I do for you?"
The newcomer rose nervously from his chair and began chewing upon his half-smoked cigar. "Had the devil of a time to find you, Mr. Duvall."
"You came out from Washington, I suppose," remarked the detective, wondering what his visitor could want with him.
"Yes. Got your address from Hicks, of the Treasury Department. He said you were about twelve miles out. I seem to have come about twenty."
"Perhaps you went around by way of Laurel. It's much further, that way. What can I do for you, Mr.——" He paused interrogatively.