"How impertinent!" she exclaimed.
"There is also a note for you in your box."
The clerk handed her an envelope, which she opened. "I hope to be able to send you your grandfather's address very soon," wrote O'Gorman. "You will probably stay in Dorfield; perhaps with the Conants, with whom you lived before. You might try sending Colonel Weatherby a letter in care of Oscar Lawler, at Los Angeles, California. In any event, don't forget my card or neglect to wire me in case of emergency."
Having read this with considerable surprise the girl handed the note to Mr. Conant, who slowly read it and gave a bark like that of an angry dog when he came to the name of the California attorney. Without remark he put the detective's letter in his pocket and picking up Mary Louise's suit case led the girl outside to the street corner.
"This car will take you to within two blocks of my house," he said.
"Can you manage your grip alone?"
"Easily," she assured him.
"You have carfare!"
"Yes, thank you."
"Then good-bye. I'll see you this evening."
He turned away and she boarded the street car.