“You needn’t be,” said the woman. “He’ll never question you again. We’ll look out for that. You’ll never see him again, Angel Face, take my word for it.”
“That sounds as if a job had been put up on Nick,” Chick said to himself. “If they get by with it, now that I’ve got this she-devil under my eyes, they will go some, all right.”
It had become obvious to Chick that the girl had been a tool in the hands of this woman, and that he would learn nothing more by playing the eavesdropper then and there, Vera Vantoon confiding nothing to her companion, who evidently was entirely ignorant of the identity of the latter’s confederates.
“They will separate after leaving here,” he said to himself. “The girl will probably go straight home. There would be nothing for me in remaining on her track. I’ll drop her and get after the woman.”
Gliding noiselessly away from the position he had occupied. Chick returned to the manager’s office and resumed his discarded garments.
He then sauntered out to the bar again, from which he continued to watch the booth, lest his own doings might have been observed by some spy in league with the woman, who then would be warned of her danger.
A furtive scrutiny for a few minutes convinced Chick, however, that Vera Vantoon had come alone to keep the appointment, and he then returned to the street to await her departure.
Five minutes later both women came out and proceeded together as far as the nearest corner, where they conversed briefly before separating.
Minerva Grand drew down her veil and hurried away in the direction of a subway station.
“Bound home,” thought Chick. “Now for the woman.”