Barres turned to meet Dulcie’s shy gaze.
“Tell us what to do, Sweetness!” he said gaily. “It was stupid of me not to ask for your views.”
For a few moments the girl remained silent, then, the lovely tint deepening in her cheeks, she suggested diffidently that the people who were annoying Thessalie had been hired to do it by others more easy to handle, if discovered.
There was a moment’s silence, then Barres struck his palm with doubled fist:
“That,” he said with emphasis, “is the right way to approach this business! Hired thugs can be handled in only two ways—beat ’em up or call in the police. And we can do neither.
“But the men higher up—the men who inspire and hire these rats—they can be dealt with in other ways. You’re right, Dulcie! You’ve started us on the only proper path!”
Considerably excited, now, as vague ideas crowded in upon him, he sat smiting his knees, his brows knit in concentrated thought, aware that they were on the right track, but that the track was but a blind trail so far.
Dulcie ventured to interrupt his frowning cogitation:
“People of position and influence who hire men to do unworthy things are cowards at heart. To discover them is to end the whole matter, I think.”