They had not seen or heard from Jim Farland since the evening before, when he had engaged the taxicab and had started in pursuit of the limousine Kate Gilbert had entered. Prale wondered what Farland had been doing, whether he had discovered anything concerning Kate Gilbert, whether he had found a clew that would lead to an unraveling of the mystery.
"Are you sure about that Farland man, Mr. Prale?" Murk asked, after a time.
"What do you mean by that, Murk?"
"Well, he's a kind of cop, and I never had much faith in cops," said Murk.
"Farland is an old friend of mine, Murk, and he is on the square—if that is what you mean."
"He sure started out like a house afire, sir, but he seems to be fallin' down now," Murk declared. "He sure did handle that barber and the clothin' merchant, but he ain't showed us any speed since he left us last night."
"He is busy somewhere—you may be sure of that," Sidney Prale declared.
"Well, boss, I ain't got any education, and I ain't an expert in any particular line, but I've often been accused of havin' common sense, and I'm strong for you!"
"Meaning what, Murk?"
"Nothin', boss, except that I'd like to be busy gettin' you out of this mess. Seems to me I know just as much about it as you do, and if we'd talk matters over, maybe I'd get some sort of an idea, or somethin' like that."