"By the Lord Harry, that is a problem," he said, suddenly waking up. "The dickens of a tangle! What the deuce was Slade doing there?" He relapsed into silence again, and as suddenly said decisively: "You're wrong on one point, Ted. It's not Garraboy or Bloodgood we ought to suspect first; it's Cheever—the Cheevers."
"How the deuce are we going about it?" said Beecher.
"I suppose Mrs. Kildair wants the whole thing kept quiet," said Gunther, rapping absent-mindedly on the arm of his chair.
"Naturally; besides, I promised."
"Of course. Well, we'll begin in a practical fashion. You don't mind spending a little money, do you?"
"I expect to."
Gunther rose and went to the telephone booths, where he remained for some time.
"Half-past six in my rooms, Ted," he said, returning. "I'll put you up against the most interesting character in the United States—a real detective. Dress and come over."
"But the girls," objected Beecher, remembering their engagement.
"The girls can go hang," said Gunther, shrugging his shoulders. "They can always wait half an hour. This is something real."