"In what capacity are you employed by Miss Murdaugh?"
"Confidential agent, she said I was to tell you." Dan could scarcely suppress a grin of importance. "She told me to remind you that she asked you particular last night if she might send for the copies of the papers, not call for them herself, and you said 'yes.' And you'll excuse me, Sir, but I'm not to answer any more questions."
The attorney shrugged and turned to the telephone, but Dan interposed quietly:
"Miss Murdaugh ain't at home, Sir. She's waiting for me and she says she'll not set foot in the house until I bring her the copies of the papers."
"Very well." Mason North capitulated, and, opening a drawer in his desk, handed over a rolled package. "Here you are. I shall want a receipt, of course."
He made out one, which Dan signed, and with a nod turned to leave, when the attorney halted him on the threshold.
"Ask Miss Murdaugh if she can find it convenient to call here this afternoon; tell her I would like to talk things over with her and will expect her between four and five o'clock."
"Very good, Sir."
Dan departed, colliding violently as he did so with an elderly gentleman who entered the inner office and banged the door behind him.
"Mason, have you heard from her? Do you know where she has gone?"