CHAPTER XXX.
MRS. SIMPSON LEARNS THE TRUTH.
Lane A. Griswold’s big car hummed softly to itself as it climbed the hill from the village of New Pelham, and stopped in front of No. 31 Floral Avenue.
The millionaire newspaper proprietor was on a strange errand, and his expression showed that he realized it.
Although he was frequently absent from his luxurious suite of private offices in the Chronicle and Observer building for weeks at a time, he had walked in that morning promptly at nine o’clock, instead of ten or eleven, as was his usual habit when in town.
Five minutes later, he was in possession of such facts as his general manager and the editor could give him concerning Mrs. Simpson’s phone message. The manager, of course, informed him that no such person was employed in the building, but the description had set Griswold to thinking.
“I’ll call her up myself,” was the unexpected announcement which had sent his subordinates about their business. The connection was quickly made, but the conversation which had ensued was very brief.
Mrs. Simpson described Jones’ visit of the day before in a very few words, and then told of the finding of the injured man. Griswold wanted to ask her to describe the latter once more for his benefit, but refrained, thinking the request might seem rather strange.
“I see,” he answered, instead. “I think I had better come up to the house myself, Mrs. Simpson. I shall start at once, and ought to be there in an hour, I should say.”