The detective reflected.
"I think I have just the man for you," he announced at last. "Unfortunately, he is out on a case at the present moment, but I will recall him and send him up to see you this afternoon, if you will leave your address."
"I will meet him here," Madame Dumois replied hastily. "If he has tact enough to accept what information I am prepared to give him, and brains enough to turn it to account, it will be all I shall ask. At what hour can you have him here?"
"Shall we say three o'clock? I am confident that you will find Mr. Ross eminently suitable for your purposes. He is young, good-looking and discreet, with great personal magnetism—"
"I am not requesting him to make love to the girl." A flash of her old humor returned. "And now, Mr. McCormick, what are your terms?"
The business arrangement was briefly concluded and the detective bowed his visitor out with grudging admiration in his eyes. He waited until her firm, methodical footsteps had died away down the corridor, and then pressed a button upon the under edge of his desk top. The studious-looking young man made his appearance almost instantaneously from the adjoining office.
"Yes, sir?"
"Disappearance. Young woman, good standing. Probable social scandal. Detail Clark to tail Madame Dumois and get what info he can. Try the hotels, the old-fashioned conservative ones first. Wire Ross, 192-A. Spring Garden Street, Philadelphia, to return immediately earliest train and report here at two-thirty. Send Luders out to take his place."
The young man whipped out a pad, wrote rapidly and then paused with an inquiring glance. His chief nodded, chuckling.
"That's all. Peppery old lady, but she knows her business. Ross is the chap to handle her."