Retracing his steps, he quickly crossed the avenue and then slowly approached the couple, sauntering by them. He then saw the woman’s face distinctly—her large, lustrous eyes, glowing darkly through the meshes of her veil; her attractive features and clear, velvety complexion; her finely formed mouth and rounded chin—a strikingly handsome face, of that type and character for which men sometimes lose their heads.
“Great guns!” Danny muttered. “It’s Kate Crandall, that fly beauty who figured in the Maybrick case. She tried to throw down the church rector because he would not marry her. She must have found an easier way to get money and plenty of it, if fine feathers cut any ice.”
Danny paused in the broad main entrance to the house and furtively watched the couple. He had tried in vain to catch a word or two of their conversation. He now saw the man show Kate Crandall the memorandum made on his letter, and he rightly inferred that they were talking about the touring car and its owner.
Presently, parting abruptly, the man hailed a taxicab and rode away, while Kate Crandall quickly approached the front entrance to the house.
Danny as quickly withdrew to the office, where he began an examination of the register.
Kate Crandall entered and approached the counter, speaking to the clerk.
“If Ralph Sheldon comes in, Tom, send him up to my suite, will you?” she said familiarly.
“Certainly,” replied the clerk. “Does that go until evening?”
“It goes until he shows up,” replied Kate, with significant emphasis. “I will be at home all of this evening.”
“I’ll keep him in mind.”