“Mr. Sanborn, will you stop a moment?”
The young man stopped, and, perceiving who it was who had addressed him, called them by name and laughed:
“A little too late for much conversation, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps it is,” said Chick; “but we want to have a little information which we think you can give, and we don’t want to be asked why we want it.”
“Oh,” said young Sanborn, “if it is a matter of business, I’ll give it if I can, and I won’t ask why.”
“Will you tell us if you know a family of the name of Rainforth?”
“I know of a family of that name living down here in Sixty-eighth Street.”
“Colonel Rainforth, a widower, with one son and a daughter?” asked Chick.
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me anything about the daughter?”