The old lady brusquely forestalled his opening remark.
"Young man," the Chief was at least forty-five, "I've been presented at five European courts with less fuss and bother than I have experienced in trying to reach you. Let us come to the point. I want someone found; if you think you can accomplish it for me, name your price."
The Chief smiled slightly as he glanced at her card on the desk before him.
"It is possible that I can be of service, Madame Dumois." His voice was blandly ingratiating. "Take this seat and give me the particulars. Is the missing person a relative?"
Madame Dumois seated herself as he had indicated and her lips set in a straight line.
"I did not come here to be cross-examined, my good man, and I haven't said the person was missing. I mean there has been no mysterious disappearance, if that is what you are getting at. I will tell you as much as I have a mind to and no more, and if you do not find it sufficient to work on, we can stop right here. I have lost track of a certain young woman, and I want to locate her. Never mind why, or what our relations have been. I'd pay a good price to lay eyes on her again."
Her voice hardened perceptibly and a faint, angry flush mounted in her faded cheeks and boded ill for the unfortunate object of her search. Detective McCormick leaned forward persuasively in his chair.
"But my dear Madame, I must have a few personal details or I shall not know what type of operative to assign to the case. I take it that it is strictly confidential?"
"I congratulate you!" Her lips twitched again in grim humor. "I seemed unable to convey that impression to your various secretaries. Your operative will have to be a person of intelligence and tact, and if he is to come in personal contact with this young woman, he must be a gentleman. She is what you would call a lady, I'll say that much for her."
"You do not care to give me her name?"