Unable to secure a taxicab at the Dupont Circle stand in place of the police car and Allen, whom he had sent on an errand earlier in the morning, Mitchell boarded a southbound street car and, standing on the forward platform, kept a sharp look-out for Major Wallace. He reached the corner of H Street, however, without catching up with him, and leaving the car continued on down Seventeenth Street.
So absorbed was Inspector Mitchell in his own thoughts that he failed to return Mrs. Parsons’ bow as her motor passed him on its way up the street. At a word from Mrs. Parsons, her chauffeur swung the touring car around and up to the curb just as Mitchell started to cross D Street. The sound of his name caused him to glance around and he saw Mrs. Parsons beckoning to him.
“Can I give you a lift, Inspector?” she asked as he approached. “You appear to be in a hurry.”
“Thanks.” Mitchell wasted no superfluous words but seated himself with alacrity by Mrs. Parsons’ side.
“Where to, sir?” questioned the chauffeur, touching his cap as he closed the door.
“Munitions Building—that is,” and Mitchell turned inquiringly toward Mrs. Parsons, “if it won’t take you out of your way?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Parsons’ smile was most engaging. “The car and I are at your service, Inspector. I have no engagements this morning.” She paused to wave her hand to the occupants of a passing car, then turned once more to the silent inspector. “Has anything new developed in the Baird murder mystery?”
“Only what was in the morning newspapers,” answered Mitchell guardedly.
Mrs. Parsons’ gay laugh interrupted him. “I applaud your caution,” she said. “The morning newspapers contained no news whatever. Perhaps my question was overstepping etiquette, but how about the other matter about which I consulted you? I mean Edward Rodgers and his erstwhile friend, Major Leigh Wallace. What of them?”