"'At-a-baby!" said Mr. Waddington fervently. "That's the way to talk."
He kissed his daughter fondly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1
Mrs. Waddington found the authorities at Police Headquarters charming. It was some little time before they corrected their initial impression that she had come to give herself up to justice for committing a jewel-robbery: but, this done, they threw themselves heart and soul into her cause and became extraordinarily helpful. True, they were forced to admit that the description which she gave of the thief conveyed absolutely nothing to them: but if it had done, they assured her, she would have been amazed at the remorseless speed with which the machinery of the Law would have been set working.
If, for instance, the girl had been tall and thin with shingled auburn hair, they would have spread the net at once for "Chicago Kitty." If, on the other hand, she had had a snub nose and two moles on her chin, then every precinct would have been warned by telephone to keep an eye out for "Cincinnati Sue." While, if only she had limped slightly and spoken with a lisp, the arrest of "Indianapolis Edna" would have been a mere matter of hours. As it was, they were obliged to confess themselves completely baffled: and Mrs. Waddington came away with the feeling that, if she had not happened to possess large private means, she could have gone into the jewel-stealing business herself and cleaned up big without any fear of unpleasant consequences. It was wrong of her, of course, to call the chief detective a fat-faced goop, but by that time she had become a little annoyed.
She was still annoyed as she came out into the street, but the pleasant night air had a cooling effect. She was able now to perceive that the theft of the necklace was, after all, only a side-issue, and that there lay before her sterner work than the mere bringing to book of female criminals. The consummation to which she must devote all her faculties was the downfall of George Finch.
It was at this point that she decided that she needed an ally, a sympathetic coadjutor who would trot along by her side and do what he was told and generally supply aid and encouragement in the rather tricky operations on which she was about to embark. She went to a public telephone-office and invested five cents in a local call.
"Lord Hunstanton?"
"Hullo?"