"If there's any way to find this man, we'll do it," Bristow assured him.
Braceway sprang to his feet.
"You can bet your last dollar on that, Mr. Fulton," he said heartily, "If he's to be found, we'll get him."
The old man got to his feet. The recital of his story had weakened him. His legs were a little unsteady. Braceway took him by the arm, and they started down the steps.
"Will I see you again this afternoon?" Bristow called to the Atlanta detective.
"I rather think so," Braceway threw back over his shoulder. "As soon as I've had lunch I want to talk to Abrahamson. Chief Greenleaf seems to have neglected him."
Bristow hesitated a moment, then limped down the steps.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Fulton," he said, overtaking the two, "but is there nothing more, no hint, no probable clue, you can give us about this mysterious man?"
"Absolutely nothing," Fulton answered wearily. "I've told you all I know."
"You gave him—rather, you gave your daughter for him a total of seventeen thousand dollars, counting the loan of two thousand and the cost of redeeming the jewels both times. I beg your pardon for seeming insistent, but is it possible that you passed over that much money without even asking why she had been obliged to use it? Not many people would credit such a thing."