"No theories as to the identity of this woman, have you?"
"Nary one. A chap like Warren—bachelor, unencumbered—is liable to know a heap of 'em. From what you tell me of the tickets—from the fact that she was going away with him, I sort of figure you might do a little social investigating and discover what woman might have been going off with him."
Eric Leverage had been listening intently. His mind, never swift to work, yet worked surely. His big voice boomed into the conversation:
"Carroll?"
"Yes?"
"This young fellow says Miss Gresham's family didn't have no objections to the marriage. It just occurred to me to ask him is he sure?"
The reporter flushed.
"Why, no, chief; not sure. You never can be sure about things like that; but so far as the public knew—"
"That's it, exactly. How do we know, though, but what they were sore as a pup over it, and just kept their traps closed because they didn't want any gossip? S'posin' they were trying to break things off, an' makin' it pretty uncomfortable for the girl? S'pose that, eh?"
"Yes," argued the reporter. "Suppose all of that. Where does it get you?"