"You don't mean—"
"No! Just little jobs for the chief of police, that's all. I'm investigating doctors who practise without a license, that's all. I say, Masterson had better look out or he'll get pulled."
"I'm sorry you haven't anything better, Fancy. Miss Payson said she'd get you a place in her father's office if you'd go. Would you?"
"No." Fancy's eyes were upon her needle.
"Why not?"
"Frank," she said, "do you remember asking me to inquire about that soldier the little girl with freckles wanted to find?"
"Yes. I thought you said that the ticket agent at the ferry had left, and so you couldn't get anything."
"He was only off on a vacation. He's come back, and I saw him yesterday. He remembered that soldier perfectly—I don't see how anybody could fail to—he must look awful. He said he bought a ticket for Santa Barbara."
"That's good. I hope she'll come in again," said Granthope. "She was a nice little thing."
"She was real, Frank, and that's what few people are, nowadays."