“Very likely. He may want my advice or assistance.”
“You haven’t forgotten the autopsy this morning, chief, in that Todd case, have you?” Patsy reminded him inquiringly. “You said you wanted to be there.”
“No, I’ve not forgotten it, Patsy,” said his chief, rising. “I’ll be there all right, after learning what Brady has on his mind.”
“We’ll be with you again in five minutes,” Chick remarked, as the detective was leaving.
Carter found Brady at the parlor door, and he at once conducted him to his suite on the floor above, where he produced a box of cigars and invited him to be seated.
“I slipped in through the side door and sent my note by your waiter, after learning that you were at breakfast,” Brady informed him while lighting his cigar. “If it were known that a police sergeant was calling upon you, your identity might be suspected.”
“Possibly,” Carter admitted. “You did the right thing, Brady, at all events. What’s on your mind?”
“Gleason sent me. It’s about that girl. I could not telephone any of the particulars to you last night, for Doctor Devoll was in the office and heard all I was saying. He might have suspected that I was talking with a detective.
“So I merely told you that the girl had gone and that it would be useless for you to follow the suggestion made you. I referred, of course, to Chief Gleason’s communication.”
“I understood you.”