"You're absolutely certain," said young Mr. Whitney, "that in that message you overheard, the man spoke of coming to the meeting place in his auto?"
"Yes, sir, I'm certain he said that."
He turned and looked at his father.
"And investigations have shown he had no auto, he telephoned to no other garage for one, he kept no horses, and to get there on his own feet, would have had to walk through bad country roads a distance of twenty-five miles."
"Um," answered old Mr. Whitney as if he wasn't interested and then he said to me: "In this message you heard to-day no suggestion was given of what that key was the key of?"
"No, sir. The man just said it was important and Mr. Cokesbury'd had the house upside down looking for it."
"Um," said Mr. Whitney again. "I rather fancy, Miss Morganthau, you've done us a double service; in hunting for a voice, you've stumbled on a key."
Young Mr. Whitney laughed.
"It's probably the key of his front door."
"Perhaps," said his father, and looked down on the carpet as if he was thinking.