"Then you will go back to New York with me this evening?"
"I can hardly do that, Mrs. Morton. But I can agree to call on you there to-morrow. It will take me some hours to arrange matters here so that I can leave. I do not think you need worry for a few days at least. If these people had meant to act at once they would not have named the period of thirty days in their threats."
"Very well." Mrs. Morton rose, and held out her hand. "I will expect you to-morrow. Will it be in the morning?"
"Very likely. In any event, I will first telephone to you." He entered the address in his notebook. "By the way, perhaps you had better let me keep that photograph."
"Certainly." Mrs. Morton handed it to him, and he thrust it into his pocket. "The letters you already have?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything else?"
"Yes. One thing. Do not tell your daughter that you have employed me in this case. It—it might alarm her."
"Certainly not. And that leads me to say that you, on your part, will of course observe the utmost secrecy. Even with Mrs. Duvall."
"That goes without saying, madam. My professional secrets I share with no one. Even between my wife and myself there is an unwritten law which is never broken. Unless we are working on a case together—unless she can be of service to me, she asks no questions. She would not speak to me, or even recognize me, were we to meet, while I am engaged in work of this sort. You need have no fear on that score."