“Ah, Rake—on time!”
“Sure, Chester! I was just watchin’ you and that wild-looking driver. They’re gettin’ all the high-class business.”
“Come on! Follow me and keep your eyes open. We’re going to look a little lady over. Miss Elsie, the manager, is under suspicion.”
Fay led the way along the sidewalk and threaded his steps through a group of young men outside the Gray Taxi Garage. He eyed each one for possible red hair and turned-up nose. He entered the doorway, dodged a fast-flying taxi which was coming out on second speed, then knocked upon the ground glass of a door marked Private—Keep Out—This Means You!
A slip of a girl answered the knock. She glanced from Fay’s face to the peering countenance of Rake.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’m looking for a Miss Elsie De Groot,” said Fay, thrusting his foot forward. “I’m a newspaper man. I—want to write her up for a Western syndicate. It ought to bring some business.”
The girl toyed with a pencil which she jabbed like a bayonet into a raven-hued turban. “I’ll see,” she said, turning and gliding through an inner door.
Presently her elfin face gladdened the opening as Fay half advanced into the outer office.
“Come in, please. Miss De Groot will see you.”