Burke helped to save the situation from the growing tenseness.
“Sure,” he cried heartily; “sure you have. That's the best any of us can do.” He watched keenly as the young man went out of the room. It was not until the door was closed after Dick that he spoke. Then he dropped to a seat on the couch, and proceeded to make his confidences to the magnate.
“He'll go to Chicago in the morning, you think, don't you?”
“Certainly,” Gilder answered. “But I don't like it.”
Burke slapped his leg with an enthusiasm that might have broken a weaker member.
“Best thing that could have happened!” he vociferated. And then, as Gilder regarded him in astonishment, he added, chuckling: “You see, he won't find her there.”
“Why do you think that?” Gilder demanded, greatly puzzled.
Burke permitted himself the luxury of laughing appreciatively a moment more before making his exclamation. Then he said quietly:
“Because she didn't go there.”
“Where did she go, then?” Gilder queried wholly at a loss.