"Mercy! Put the horrid thing away!"
He laid the book upon the table.
"Forgive the digression, Madame Dumois. I am at your service."
For once she seemed at a loss.
"You are really a detective?" Her eyes searched his face keenly, as he pulled out a chair for her.
"That is my profession," responded Ross, with a touch of quiet dignity.
"This McCormick person has told you what I require?"
"You wish to find a certain young lady, whom you will describe to me."
"Precisely." Madame Dumois' tone was gracious. "I think, Mr. Ross, that we shall get on. This young woman appears refined, well-bred and rather more comprehensively educated than the average girl of today, but in appearance she is quite a usual type, neither blonde nor brunette, not actually pretty nor strikingly plain."
Ross nodded encouragingly as if he found valuable points in the negative description, and the old lady warmed to her task.