“All right. Have it your own way.”
“First, tell me what has happened since you took charge of Jack that night at Le Minuit?”
“I took him to a mountain hotel in Maine, hoping that away from all his old associates I could manage him more easily. But he kept me awake night and day, and even then he was always eluding me and finding road-houses where the prohibition law didn’t exist. Yesterday he got away altogether. I know he’s somewhere in New York. I want you to help me find him.”
“I thought you had Mr. Bradley retained for such service.”
“I have, and I’ve already notified him. But I don’t trust Mr. Bradley as far as I once did. That’s why I’m asking you to help. Will you?”
Clifford felt the irony of it—that he should once more be called in to save the man Mary Regan had married instead of himself. But he nodded.
“That may be easy enough if Jack is in any of the regular joy-joints. But it will be hard if any of the sharps have got him in tow. Come on.”
Leading the way, Clifford began a careful search of the gayer restaurants of Broadway. He picked up Lieutenant Jimmie Kelly. The search was rapid, for it had not to go beyond the entrances; Clifford knew the door-men and managers of every resort, and Jack Morton was a well-known figure to all. To them Clifford put the same question—“Young Mr. Morton in here?”—and all answered honestly, having a very substantial fear of Clifford and Jimmie Kelly, and an earnest desire to retain their licenses.
At length, toward one o’clock, they came to Le Minuit; and of the proprietor, Monsieur Le Bain, Clifford asked the usual question. Monsieur Le Bain replied that Jack was there, and led the way through the din of his “authentic Hawaiian orchestra” and the hilarity of his hundreds of pleasure-fevered guests, down a little corridor off his “imperial ballroom.” He started to open the door at the end of this little hallway,—the door to his most exclusive private room,—but Clifford checked his hand.
“Needn’t bother, Le Bain,—you can go on back,” said Clifford. “And, Jimmie,”—to the little lieutenant, as Le Bain went gliding away,—“I wish you’d hang around, where you won’t be noticed much, so you’ll be handy if needed.”