“And had your curiosity aroused?”
“Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with it. Let us forget the circumstance.”
“Willingly, since it concerns the private affairs of a very dear friend.”
No more was said.
Eric read his paper and the artist seemed occupied with his, but every now and then he turned his eyes toward the detective as though his curiosity was aroused.
When the artist arose at Fourteenth Street, to leave the car, Eric handed him a card he had prepared for such occasions.
It gave his name and the address of his apartments—nothing more.
“If you should ever desire to see me, sir, you will find me there by letter or person,” he said quietly.
At this Prescott smiled broadly.
“I hope you don’t think I dream of sending you a challenge for finding my letter,” he said.