"From Mr. Curry, sir."
"Good." Mr. Baker rose and went toward the door. "Come with me," he said to Duvall, "and you too, Jim." The three of them went along the corridor, arriving presently at the main entrance to the building. An elderly man sat at a high desk behind a wire grating.
"Curry," Mr. Baker burst out, "this boy tells me you gave him a package for Miss Morton a while ago."
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you get it?"
The man looked up in surprise.
"Why, sir, someone left it here—on my desk. I don't know who, sir. Right after lunch, it was. You know people deliver things here all the time. I didn't take any particular notice how it got here. It was just pushed through the window, I guess, same as usual. There was a lot of mail in the rack, after lunch, and everybody asking for theirs as they came in. In fact, I don't remember seeing the package handed in at all. Just found it lying on my desk, along with a lot of letters and things. Why, sir? Is anything wrong?"
Baker turned to Duvall in disgust.
"No system here at all," he grumbled. "The trail is lost, of course. Half a hundred people come through here every hour. That's all, Jim," he said, turning to the boy, who disappeared at once. Accompanied by Duvall, Baker returned to the private office.
"Well?" Mr. Baker asked. "What next?"