“Then how are the rascals to know what we are willing to pay?”
“Put it in the hands of a detective.”
“The money?”
“No,” replied Louise; “although I would give him a few thousands to work on.”
“I have a detective.”
“You have?”
“That is—I mean to say,” replied Mignon, in some confusion, “I mean to hire one, or a dozen for that matter.”
“I know one that would suit you,” remarked the visitor.
Nick Carter’s name was on the banker’s daughter’s lips, but she did not mention it, and, indeed, its owner, on the other side of the parlor door, feared that in an unguarded moment she would.
“I have talked with nearly all the detective sergeants at headquarters,” said Mignon. “Does he belong to that squad?”