Later, in the bustle of preparing for dinner, Boise sat down by Constance.
"Are you still in favor of the Sage City and Salt Pool route for our new cut-off?" he asked with a smile as he inspected her delicately flushed cheeks and her bright eyes and her shining wavy hair.
"Really, I don't know very much about it," she modestly confessed, "but I should think that an all-level route would be much the best."
At the pier that night at twelve-thirty the party, on account of the lateness of the hour, very hurriedly dispersed. Johnny and Loring secured a taxi and, with Polly and Constance, headed for Polly's house where Constance had decided to spend the night.
As they crossed Seventh Avenue Johnny excitedly tapped on the glass in front of him and poking his head out through the other forward window, gave a sharp direction. The driver, a knobby-jawed and hairy-browed individual, turned and tore down toward the big new terminal station as fast as he could go.
"Gresham," explained Johnny briefly, peering keenly ahead.
"Well, what about him?" inquired Loring.
"He's jumping the town. I don't trust my detectives."
"Have you secured some proof?" eagerly inquired Loring.
"No, only evidence," laughed Johnny at his lawyer, and for the rest of that brief ride neither the breathless girls nor the concentrated men said anything. They only held tensely forward and helped hurry.