There was a pause. P. Sybarite blinked furiously.
"I've heard that name," he said quietly, at length. "Isn't she old Brian's ward—the girl who disappeared recently?"
"She didn't disappear, really. She's been staying with friends—told me so herself. That's all the foundation the Journal had for its story."
"Friends?"
"So she said."
"Did she name them?"
"No—"
"Or say where?"
"No; but some place out of town, of course."
"Of course," P. Sybarite repeated mechanically. He eyed fixedly the ash on the end of his cigar. "And she told you she meant to marry Bayard Shaynon, did she!"