"What do you mean?" said Theydon.
"Well, I guess you're the curly-haired boy where Miss Evelyn is concerned."
"Like most Americans, you jump at conclusions," was the ungracious reply.
"And, like most Americans, I'm right nearly all the time," said Handyside dryly.
"Surely one can hardly discuss such a matter."
"Why not? If a proposition sounds hard, chew on it, and may be you'll get your teeth into it somehow."
Theydon nearly allowed himself to become angry. Was his hopeless admiration for Evelyn Forbes so patent that a sharp-eyed stranger could discern it after a brief hour in their company?
"Millionaires' daughters marry poor men only in novels and on the stage," he said bitterly. "In real life, and in England, they take unto themselves titles and landed estates."
"I guess Wong Li Fu will have to round you up some more," was the cryptic answer, and Handyside forthwith plunged airily into some wholly different topic.
At Scotland Yard they inquired for Furneaux, and were told he had not reported at headquarters since the early afternoon. So Theydon was introduced to another representative of the department, and handed over the typed note; the detective promised that its purport should be telephoned to Croydon without delay.