“Why, it’s a family by the name of Milmarsh,” replied Bonesy. “Howard Milmarsh, who has been away for three years or so, is home again, and it’s him that’s laying out this new place. He’s all right, Howard is.”
“Is he inside the offices now?”
“No, I guess not. It’s the manager who does the business. He’s a lawyer, I was told.”
“I’d like to see him,” put in Nick, in a quavering voice. “I hope I shan’t have to wait long.”
There was a note of appeal in this from the seemingly old man that touched the hearts of most of the people waiting to see the manager.
“Let him go in first. I’m willing,” declared a man who evidently was one who worked hard with his hands, and who was the next in line. “If everybody else is agreeable, let the old gentleman go right in.”
There was no dissent, and Chick, taking his chief by the elbow, propelled him into the inner office.
Three persons were in the room, but none of them were known to the detective or Chick.
“Too slick to give themselves away,” whispered the latter, as they entered. “I half expected to see Louden Powers or Lampton.”
“They are in the background, I guess,” was the hasty reply.