She had reason to be glad of her decision two weeks later. It was nearly noon one morning when her private telephone at the side of her bed rang. She was sipping her morning coffee. The rolls on her plate were as yet untouched. Margaret was occupied in preparing for her mistress's toilet. The girl promptly left her work and took up the receiver, while Monica waited to hear who it was ringing her up.
"Who is it?" the girl inquired. "I can't hear. Red——"
Monica spoke sharply.
"Give me the thing," she said. "You never could hear over a 'phone."
The girl obeyed, and left the room, as was her rule when Monica used the telephone.
It was the Redtown Inquiry Agency, and Monica's heart leaped as she listened. Their representative wanted to see her urgently. Would she call upon him before two o'clock? It was preferable she should go to him. Would she kindly do so? He could not trust a message of importance to the wire.
It was just one o'clock when Monica was ushered into the private office of Mr. Verdant, the representative of the Redtown Agency.
Mr. Verdant greeted her with the cordiality he always displayed toward a rich client. After placing her in a chair, where the light from the window shone full upon her face, he moved noiselessly over to the door, and, with some display, ascertained that it was tightly shut. Then, as noiselessly, he returned to his desk, dropped into his swing chair, adjusted his glasses, and gazed squarely into his visitor's face.
Having satisfactorily staged himself, and conveyed to the anxious woman that he was reading her like an open book, he drew a memorandum pad toward him and spoke without looking up.
"We have not found your—the person you are interested in, Mrs. Hendrie," he said, with studied effect.