“Still in process of adjustment. The railroad company caved in one end of the trunk. They claim the trunk was old and defective. They say the claim for damages is exorbitant.”
“Get Evaline Dell’s address?” I asked.
“Evaline Harris,” she said.
“They’re the same. She was there for about a week.”
“Yes, I have it. Let’s see. Where is it? Hell’s fire, I can’t ever find anything!” She picked up the telephone, and said to Elsie Brand, “Find the address of Evaline Harris. I gave it to you... Yes, I did... Oh... In my right-hand desk drawer, eh? Thanks.”
Bertha Cool opened her right-hand desk drawer, rummaged around among some papers, and brought on out a slip of paper. I copied the address into my notebook.
“Going to see her?” she asked.
I said, “Yes. Here’s another hunch. The state medical board may have been asked to transfer a licence from Dr. James C. Lintig to some other name.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Lintig was an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist. He skipped out. His office nurse went with him. Figure it out. A man doesn’t throw away his right to practice his profession.”