At precisely half-past two a young man bounded up the steps of the Leicester Building and, elbowing his way good-naturedly into the already packed elevator, shot up to the nineteenth floor. He was boyish-looking and slim, but his broad, straight shoulders and lithe hips betokened the athlete and his laughing eyes had a habit of narrowing suddenly in keen intensity.
He nodded a careless greeting to the red-headed boy and the burly strong-arm man who guarded the outer office, and made his way unceremoniously into the presence of his chief.
The latter explained the reason for his recall and told him succinctly of the morning's interview.
"Tactful and brainy and a gentleman; that's what the old lady says she wants, and I guess you fill the bill, Bert," McCormick added. "You're the gentleman, all right, because you were born one, and that's something you never lose and can't fake. For kid glove cases no one stands in the same class with you, but you'll need more than that in handling Madame Dumois; asbestos gloves would be safer. She wants to find the girl, but she's dead scared of our getting a line on her. Sharp as a steel trap, she is—a regular Tartar!"
"Um—French?" Herbert Ross seemed in no wise perturbed by the formidable description.
"No. Yankee accent, but there's a Paris look to her clothes. Dressy old party, in spite of her widow's cap. Shouldn't wonder if she's just back from the other side. That's why I had her looked up at the hotels, but I couldn't smoke her out. Don't antagonize her by asking questions or you're a goner. Just let her do the talking and pick up what scraps of data you can. I'm not worrying about your ability to make a success of it, Bert, if you can only get enough out of the old lady to work on, but blood from a stone would be a cinch in comparison."
"Any hint as to why she wants the subject located?"
Ross lighted a cigarette and leaned forward in his chair.
"Not in words, but from her manner I judge it is not from any desire to remember the young woman in her will," the Chief responded dryly. "Looks more like a scandal than anything else, as she's so anxious to keep the girl's identity a secret. I tried my level best to worm some information from her, but she flared up and threatened to call it all off. The best I've got is that the subject is young, refined and to all appearances a lady, although Madame Dumois seemed to grudge that fact. You go to it, Bert, and see what you can do." The young operator pondered for a moment.
"Well, sir," he began at last, "I can't hope to succeed where you have failed, if I work along the same lines. In your official capacity you have had the bad luck to antagonize her, so I think I shall try another scheme. May I have the reference library for an hour? I'll receive her there instead of here."