"A little patience," Bofinger said with a smile. "Things have got to be told in their order. I learned from the servant that Miss Vaughn and her aunt Miss Morissey have lived in the same rooms for over six years. The aunt is a retired school-teacher, having perhaps a very small income. Miss Vaughn, evidently, is the mainstay, doing fancy embroidery and needlework. The servant told me that she was very devout. Now for the second circumstance, but this won't be to your liking."
"What do you mean?" Fargus demanded, instantly alarmed.
"I learned that Miss Vaughn and her aunt are going to leave."
"You are sure?" Fargus cried in despair. He had only half believed the announcement from the lips of the woman.
"I am. With an inspiration, I instantly asked to see their room. What do you think of that? On this pretext I saw not only the room but Miss Vaughn and her aunt. Well, they impressed me very favorably, quiet and devoted—"
"But when is she going, and where?" Fargus broke in impatiently.
"They go to Chicago in a few days—a very few."
"And did you find out why?"
"I did," Bofinger said with a nod, and began again. "Of course I did not try to pump them, but when I left I said to the maid—"
"Never mind that, tell me now why they are going."