"What is the name?"
"Vaughn—Sheila Vaughn."
"And the address?"
"I don't know."
Bofinger raised his head in astonishment.
"But you know her—have met her."
His client, with a nod, suddenly abandoned his reticence and as though now he had come head high into the matter, there was nothing for it but to strike out boldly, began imperiously:
"I'm to meet her at four o'clock in Washington Square, northeast corner. You be there, follow her after I go, and get her address. Find out everything about her, where she comes from, where she lives, what she does."
"One moment," Bofinger said suddenly. "How long have you known her?"