“My time is rather limited,” said Harry. “I shall look up Hasbrouck — but you say that he does not know where Buchanan can be found?”
“He may know by now,” declared Glendenning. “He told me he was going to see a friend of Buchanan’s a man whom he expected in New York night before last. Let me see” — Glendenning tapped his forehead thoughtfully — “what was that friend’s name? What was it, Larkin? Do you remember?”
“Not offhand, sir,” replied the secretary hesitatingly.
“I have it!” exclaimed Glendenning. “Hasbrouck was going to see a man named Jerry Middleton! That’s who it was! I have heard nothing from Hasbrouck since. There was no reason why I should.”
“Jerry Middleton,” repeated Harry Vincent thoughtfully. “I’ll remember that name. It’s very important that I find Buchanan. Perhaps—”
He paused and arose as Margaret Glendenning suddenly entered the room. The girl was attractively gowned, and Harry was immediately impressed by her beauty. But he also detected a worried, unhappy expression in her eyes. She looked at Harry; then at her uncle.
“My niece,” was Glendenning’s introduction. “Sit down, Margaret. Mr. Vincent and I were just talking about Robert.”
“Has he been found yet?”
There was a peculiar tone in the girl’s question. It seemed to carry a note of suppressed anxiety.
Harry saw the situation in an instant. The girl, evidently, was worried about Robert Buchanan. At the same time, she was probably trying to keep in her uncle’s good graces.