"Do not think of it that way," she said. "We shall be friends, very good friends, I am sure. Good night."
"Good night and—thank you," he said.
That night he lay awake until past midnight, recalling everything that happened during the day. His thoughts of Consuello gave place to speculation of what had become of Gibson and what would develop with his return in the coming week.
Early Monday morning Brennan and John were called to the city editor's desk and P. Q. ordered them to renew their search for Gibson.
"Drop everything else and don't stop until you find him," he said. "As you say, Brennan, he's up to something and it's up to us to keep our eyes wide open. The mayor is sitting tight on Gibson's ultimatum on Chief Sweeney's resignation and Sweeney's out this morning with a demand that Gibson co-operate with him and the department in his campaign. Get to work now and find Gibson."
"I was thinking," said Brennan, "that Gibson's friend, Miss Carrillo, might know where he was. Gallant here should be able to find out what she knows."
"Miss Carrillo knows no more than we do," John volunteered.
"What makes you think so?" asked Brennan.
"She told me."