“Yes, sir; I remember him well. Took him to your office and the bank, you know, the time you had some deal with him; and he tried to tell me how to run the car. Me! I spotted him right away for a fresh guy from the East, an’ now he’s kicked me out of Kane’s hangar an’ set a dog on me. Oh, yes; I know Cumberford.”
“So do I,” said Burthon, grimly.
Tyler caught the tone.
“I’ll do him yet, sir. Leave it to me. I couldn’t get much of a pointer on Kane’s aëroplane; hadn’t time, you know; but it looked like a rosebud an’ I guess he’s got something good. I’m going to find out. I’ll take out a dose for the dog that’ll put him to sleep in a wink, and then I’ll go all over the thing careful.”
“Never mind the airship,” said Mr. Burthon. “I’ve found out what I wanted to know.”
“What! you have, sir?” exclaimed the chauffeur, amazed.
“Yes,” was the quiet reply. “That is, if you’re positive the man at the Kanes was Cumberford.”
“Sure? Why, I’d stake my life on it, sir.”
“Then I’ll follow the clue in my own way,” said Mr. Burthon, alighting from the car.
The discovery made by Tyler necessitated a change in the proposed campaign. The broker entered his office, sat down at his desk and fell into one of his fits of deep abstraction. The new “secretary,” noting this, chewed her gum reflectively a moment and then began to read a novel, keeping the volume concealed behind her desk.