“Search me. Perhaps just a girl’s whim.”
“Do you know where I can find her?”
“Haven’t the slightest idea. I was with her more or less by accident. I was taking care of her merely for a couple of hours—substituting for a friend of hers.”
Clifford felt sure the little man was lying; but he also felt sure he could get out of Loveman nothing Loveman preferred not to tell. All the brains of the Bar Association had not been able to do this when Loveman had been before that body on charges of unprofessional conduct.
“By the by, Clifford, what’s your interest in the young lady?”
“Her family heard she was back, and engaged me to locate her.”
Loveman, looking keenly at Clifford, did not betray whether or not he recognized this as prevarication. Clifford stood up.
“Well, as you were my only clue, I might as well give the matter up. Sorry to have bothered you. Good-morning.”
“Oh, you’ll find her—you have the reputation of doing whatever you start out to do. Don’t hurry away. I’ve got some new first editions I want to show you. But pardon me for just a moment.” He scratched a line upon a sheet of paper, rang, and handed the folded sheet to the Japanese butler, who silently withdrew. “Now!” he cried briskly, and began to talk enthusiastically over half a dozen stained and musty volumes.
Half an hour later the noiseless butler appeared, bearing a card. Loveman begged Clifford to excuse him, and withdrew—to reënter in five minutes.