“Why, June,” said Scott, smiling, “are you foolish enough to think she knows?”
“Why, Scott, she did tell the truth.”
“It is all guess work.”
“It is very good guess work, then,” she said, thoughtfully.
The old gypsy went her way. It was at least three miles away that she entered a building which stood in a row of worn tenement houses. Up two flights of stairs she went, and through a hall that received but a small amount of light from the outer world. She entered a dingy and scantily furnished room.
“There, Crisp, I have found him at last,” she said, 220 to a slovenly dressed man who lay at full length on a shabby, worn out couch.
“You have, do you say? Where?”
“Oh, about three miles away. I found out all I wanted to for the present. I told his fortune and made him believe that I knew all about it. I told him about his wife being gone and his father being dead.”
“Did you find out anything about the paper?”
“No.”