"It certainly was, providing he hasn't—" I said with a gesture.
"We won't spoil it by dwelling on that fact. Remember what I said last night. Stay for luncheon and then give me the benefit of your services as chauffeur. I know you will want to go with me, for I am going to ask Mr. Cunningham what advice he gave his client about this most interesting affair."
CHAPTER XXVII
THE STRONG BOX
After a luncheon, to which I did full justice, McKelvie flipped over the pages of the city directory and studied the section devoted to Cunninghams.
"That's rather peculiar," he said. "He has no office in the city. If he is a lawyer, where does he conduct his practice? Something wrong, somewhere. Come on. We'll get him at his apartments."
We drove to 84th Street and inquired for Cunningham.
"Mr. Cunningham? He's not at home," replied the switchboard operator in the hallway of the fashionable apartment house.
"Do you mean that he is out of town?" asked McKelvie anxiously.