"Yes. Supposing we look her up a little more."
"I've thought quite a lot about her," said Beecher musingly; and, remembering all at once her self-possession on the night of the theft, he added: "There's nothing weak about her certainly; still, I can't see the motive."
They had left behind them the free, unbounded sky, boring their way through the towering sides of the sky-scraping district, where buildings rose in regular, comb-like structures, with their thousands of human cells tenanted by human bees. Entering a street where the obstructed sun never shone, they were swept on by the feverish rush of fellow-beings and shot up sixteen stories to their destination. The office-boy in the antechamber took their cards with the condescension which only an office-boy between the ages of twelve and sixteen can feel, and disappeared within.
"The old screw'll keep us waiting half an hour, said Gunther, who disliked all delays.
"Bet he's trying to figure out what we're here for?" said Beecher, who admitted to himself a delicious satisfaction at the prospective humiliation of the man he cordially disliked.
The next moment Garraboy himself appeared at the rail, dapper, dried up, and severe.
"How do you do?" he said sharply, but without inviting them in. "What can I do for you? It's a very busy day for me."
"I assure you I don't intend to take any more time than I am compelled to," said Beecher stiffly, with an accent that gave another meaning to the phrase. He plunged his hand into his pocket. "I have an order for you."
"Oh, yes, I remember now," said Garraboy, with a malicious drawing up of his lips. "You can save yourself the trouble."
"What do you mean?" asked Beecher, greatly surprised.