“Do you have many calls for Prussian blue?”
“Not many. You are the second one within a week, though,” said the proprietor. “Toby Monk bought a box three or four days ago. That’s the second, by the way, that he has bought within a month. He uses it mebbe the same as you do.”
“What’s his business? I’m an artist,” said Patsy, lest these inquiries might reach the ears of the said Toby Monk.
“He’s a chauffeur,” replied the storekeeper. “He owns a car and runs it as a jitney part of the time, when he’s not driving for a man who frequently employs him.”
“What man is that?” inquired Patsy, suppressing any betrayal of his elation.
“I don’t know his name.”
“Or where he lives?”
“No.”
“He’s a merchant, perhaps, or a doctor, or——”
“I don’t know anything about him. Why are you so anxious to know who and——”