“You infernal, damnation lunkhead, get out of my office till I calm down,” raged the chief.
He yelped at Crowley when the operative was at the door: “Go hunt up Elsham and bring her here. It looks to me as if Kennard was foxier than the dame I sent, and has turned the trick in her own way.”
“I ain’t afraid of questions,” declared the operative. “They’ll only bring out that I’m right when I claim the credit.”
He hastened to shut the door behind him. Mern acted as if he were looking for a missile.
“But where is she? Why in the blue blazes doesn’t she report in?” muttered the chief, worriment wrinkling his forehead. On the face of things, it seemed that, valuable as Miss Kennard had been as confidential secretary, she was still more valuable as a skillful operative—and Chief Mern was earnestly desirous of having her back on the job.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHIEF MERN’S interview with his two operatives the next forenoon did not yield the solid facts he was after. They disputed each other. Miss Elsham insisted that she had had Latisan on the run and claimed that his apparent involvement with Miss Kennard was merely a silly and fleeting flirtation with one whom he supposed was a table girl in a tavern.
“You gave me his character, all written out,” insisted Miss Elsham. “He’s that kind. He didn’t dare to presume with me as he would with a girl in a dining room; but I was getting along all right till Crowley butted in.” She turned spitefully on that monopolizer and meddler. “And now don’t stand there and say again that you claim the credit. I’ll slap your face!”
Miss Elsham lied so strenuously that she was convincing.