“Yes,” came the lilting girl’s voice again. “What is it?”
“It’s a matter of business about Mr. McNiel’s accident.”
“About the accident is it?” The door opened in little cautious jerks. She had a sharpcut pearlywhite nose and chin and a pile of wavy redbrown hair that lay in little flat curls round her high narrow forehead. Gray eyes sharp and suspicious looked him hard in the face.
“May I speak to you a minute about Mr. McNiel’s accident? There are certain legal points involved that I feel it my duty to make known to you.... By the way I hope he’s better.”
“Oh yes he’s come to.”
“May I come in? It’s a little long to explain.”
“I guess you can.” Her pouting lips flattened into a wry smile. “I guess you wont eat me.”
“No honestly I wont.” He laughed nervously in his throat.
She led the way into the darkened sitting room. “I’m not pulling up the shades so’s you wont see the pickle everythin’s in.”
“Allow me to introduce myself, Mrs. McNiel.... George Baldwin, 88 Maiden Lane.... You see I make a specialty of cases like this.... To put the whole matter in a nutshell.... Your husband was run down and nearly killed through the culpable or possibly criminal negligence of the employees of the New York Central Railroad. There is full and ample cause for a suit against the railroad. Now I have reason to believe that the Excelsior Dairy Company will bring suit for the losses incurred, horse and wagon etcetera....”