Curtis obeyed, though he fancied he had never encountered a more unofficial official than Clancy. Shrewd judge of character as he was, he could hardly be expected to guess, after such a momentary glimpse of a man of extraordinary genius in unraveling crime, that Clancy was never more discursive, never more prone to chaff and sneer at his special friend, Steingall, than when hot on the trail of some particularly acute and daring malefactor. The Chief of the Bureau, of course, knew by these signs that his trusted aide had obtained information of a really startling nature, but neither Curtis nor Devar was aware of Clancy's idiosyncrasies, and some few minutes elapsed before they began to suspect that he had a good deal more up his sleeve than they gave him credit for at first.
From the outset he took an original view of Curtis's marriage.
"The girl is young and good-looking, you say?" was his opening question.
"Not yet twenty-one, and remarkably attractive," said Curtis, though hardly prepared for the detective's interest in this direction.
"Well educated and lady-like, I suppose?"
"Yes, as befits her position."
"Cut out her position, which doesn't amount to a row of beans where intellect is concerned.… Well, a man never knows much about a woman anyway, and what little he learns is acquired by a process of rejection after marriage."
"May I ask what you mean?"
"Judging from your history and apparent age, Mr. Curtis, I take it you have not had time to go fooling about after girls?"
"You are certainly right in that respect."