“You mean for the west; to the coast?” was Leslie’s double question. It was asked with a drawling inflection that nearly robbed it of interrogation.
“Yes. Where shall I address you, Miss Cairns, about the England matter?” Mr. Carrington questioned courteously.
“At the Essenden. Thank you so much, Mr. Carrington. You are always so kind to me. Not a word to my father that I was here!” She raised a playful forefinger. “You understand why.”
“Absolutely discreet, Miss Cairns.” The manager raised a hand as though taking an oath.
After a further brief exchange of pleasantries Leslie rose to depart. She was in nervous haste to be gone. It had taken “nerve,” according to her way of thinking, to lead up to the information she had sought, then to ask the right questions at the right time. She had not devised until the last moment a way of exacting secrecy from the manager that would not arouse him to suspicion against her. She knew that her father’s lieutenants of years were chary of speech and still more chary of information. It was evident that her father’s harsh stand in regard to herself was not known in his offices. Since Mr. Carrington did not know it, Leslie was sure he did not, then none other of his staff of financiers knew.
She would have liked to ask Mr. Carrington to give her the surname of the man, Anton. She remembered that the manager had once dined with them on the same evening as the foreigner. She had not dared ask about him. Nor did she believe it would be wise to call again at her father’s offices to interrogate Mr. Carrington further. She recalled the old fable of the pitcher that went once too often to the well and was broken. She did not intend to risk losing what she had already gained. There was still the other way of learning the name.
CHAPTER XVIII.
ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN
Leslie stopped for luncheon at an odd French restaurant, the Fontainebleau. It was a Gallic triumph in soft grays and rated as being more Parisian than any other restaurant in New York. After luncheon she ordered the driver of the taxicab she was using to take her for a spin on Riverside Drive.
“Keep on going out Riverside till I tell you to turn around,” she ordered the man. “If you hear me tell you to go slow, then go slow. I’m interested in certain properties out on the Drive.”