“He is the old lawyer who is Dollie’s employer,” Marion said again, “and he’s a regular roué, if I am any judge. Why, do you know, he took Dollie to luncheon one day and would have taken her to a matinee if I had not stopped it.”
“Is it possible?” said Mr. Ray, coming back to her words, with a start. “Why, that man is my father-in-law. He is the father of my wife. Has not his own daughter’s career made him more merciful of other maidens?”
Marion was shocked at his news, but there was no time to reply. The next moment they were in the dingy home of the dead, gazing around them with curiosity.
“He did not see us,” whispered Marion, as the lawyer went out again. “And I am very glad, for I should not care to speak to him.”
“Dead John,” the keeper, came in at that moment. He was a little impatient as he looked at his visitors.
“Be yees lookin’ fer any one in perteckeler?” he asked, crossly, “fer if yees ain’t, it ain’t no time ter be comin’ in wen I’m busy.”
“What was he looking for?” asked Mr. Ray, pointing after the lawyer. “You were civil enough to him, even if you were busy.”
The man shook his head and became suddenly better natured.
“He’s lookin’ fer his gal, he sez,” was his answer. “He ain’t seen her fer years an’ he comes here lookin’ every mornin’.”
“That’s a queer combination,” said Mr. Ray, as he put Marion back into the carriage. “A man who is always hunting the Morgue on the lookout for his own wayward one, yet never losing a chance to wrong some other man’s daughter.”