"Roger," she said suddenly, "I want you to arrange at once with a detective agency to find Mr. Good."
"Oh, see here, sis," he protested. "That's foolish, you know. He'll come back—give him time."
"I can wait no longer," said Judith coldly. "Please do as I ask—this morning."
"That was the Judge who was here. He told you something?" demanded Roger accusingly. There was no reply. He finished his meal before questioning her again. There was still no reply. Then he shrugged his shoulders and left her. When his sister's lips formed a line like the cut of a razor, Roger knew the futility of interrogation or argument.
Within an hour the machinery of one of the greatest systems of espionage in the world was set in motion for the trifling purpose of locating the present whereabouts of one Brent Good, described as well over six feet tall, with hazel eyes, thin hair, a large mouth and nose, heavy eyebrows, a deep and not unmusical voice, a marked stoop to the shoulders, and wearing a suit, as Roger expressed it, "rather brown."
CHAPTER XV
"THIRTY"—AND ANOTHER STORY
But the weeks rolled away, and although the reports from the detective agency were frequent and voluminous—as were the bills—Good remained as elusive as ever. Even Roger, with his dogged insistence that "he'd come back all right," grew perceptibly less and less optimistic. Yet through it all Judith came and went with her head high, and a smile always ready. Since that mysterious morning she seemed to have undergone a subtle change. Certainly there was no further evidence of the sullen resentment which Roger had thought he had detected at first. But there remained an abstractedness about her which was hard to fathom. When he thought her listening, she seemed always to be waiting for something. Indeed, he grew quite worried about her, and would, in all probability have aroused her violent wrath by consulting a physician, had not the fact of his approaching wedding driven all such comparatively unimportant matters out of his head.
Imrie came increasingly to see her, and although he never said anything about it, it was perfectly clear that Judith's detachment had not escaped him. Only once did he go so far as to voice his thoughts.