“I don’ know—he don’ send no word. He be back mos’ any day, though,” he continued, brightening. “You stop around here again, eh? Maybe get chance to see him then.”
Dorothy nodded and, after thanking him again, continued wearily on her way.
She and Tavia must wait around then for days perhaps until an unknown Italian recovered from some mysterious sickness—and this when every moment was precious!
Even when this man returned to occupy his place behind the news stand what guarantee had she that the information he had to give was worth anything?
Probably only another false clue, leading them to a dead wall.
And meantime Joe was out in the great world somewhere, miserable and forlorn, almost certainly at the end of his resources financially.
She groaned and was conscious that one or two passersby turned to look at her curiously. At this she came to herself with a start and found that she had been wandering aimlessly outside the station—was in a section utterly strange to her.
She would have felt a trifle panicky had she not remembered that taxicabs were plentiful and that one of them could be counted upon to take her safely to her destination.
She hailed a cab and gave the name of her hotel. It was only a few minutes before she was back there, had paid the taxicab driver and was entering the crowded lobby.
She was crossing swiftly toward the elevator when a familiar figure came within her line of vision and she saw that it was Tavia. A very much disgruntled Tavia, she saw at second glance.