"Never heard of her."
Farland explained what Prale had told him. The captain fingered his mustache.
"Several thousand women in this town answer that general description," he said. "I'm afraid I can't help you, unless you can pick her up."
"That's what I'll do as soon as I can," Farland replied. "If I can get my eyes on her once, I'll trail her and find out a few things. She may have nothing to do with this, and she may have a great deal to do with it. What do you know about George Lerton?"
"Shady broker," the captain replied. "Never done anything outside the law, as far as I know, but he's come pretty close to it. I'd hate to have him handling my money."
"Well, he lied about meeting Prale. He did his best to get Prale to run away from town. That was a couple of hours before the murder, of course, so it probably had nothing to do with that. But why should he try to get Prale out of town? And, being a man of that sort, why did he say that he wouldn't handle Prale's funds? You'd think a man of his sort would like nothing better than to get his fingers tangled up in that million."
"I'll have a man take a look at George Lerton."
"Don't strain yourself," said Jim Farland. "I'm going to take a look at him myself, the first thing to-morrow morning."
He left headquarters with Murk, and this time he did not engage a taxicab. He walked up the street, Murk at his side, and puffed at a cigar furiously.
"Well, Murk, we've made a good start," Farland said, after a time.