"The blankety-blank bounder!" yelled Cochran. "That was what he wanted! That's why he came here!"
"Here!" demanded Post.
"Not an hour ago," cried Cochran. "He asked me about Bar Harbor. He saw those pictures were taken at Bar Harbor!"
"I think," said Post soothingly, "he'd a right to ask questions. There were so many pictures, and they were very—well—very!"
"I'd have answered his questions," roared Cochran, "if he'd asked them like a man, but he came snooping down here to spy on me. He tried to trick me. He insulted me! He insulted her!" He emitted a howl of dismay. "And I told him I'd never been to Bar Harbor—that I'd never met Aline Proctor!"
Cochran seized his coat and hat. He shouted to one of the office boys to telephone the garage for his car.
"What are you—where are you going?" demanded Post.
"I'm going home first," cried Cochran, "to put those pictures in a safe, as I should have done three months ago. And then I'm going to find Chester Griswold and tell him he's an ass and a puppy!"
"If you do that," protested Post, "you're likely to lose us a very valuable client."
"And your client," roared Charles, "is likely to lose some very valuable teeth!"