"Exactly. The ensemble is most vividly portrayed, Mr. Gatewood; and—you have intimated that her lack of fortune—er—we might almost say her pecuniary distress—is more than compensated for by her accomplishments, character, and very unusual beauty. . . . Did I so understand you, Mr. Gatewood?"
"That's what I meant, anyhow," he said, flushing up.
"You did mean it?"
"I did: I do."
"Then we take your case, Mr. Gatewood. . . . No haste about the check, my dear sir—pray consider us at your service."
But Gatewood doggedly filled in the check and handed it to the Tracer of Lost Persons.
"I wish you happiness," said the older man in a low voice. "The lady you describe exists; it is for us to discover her."
"Thank you," stammered Gatewood, astounded.
Keen touched an electric button; a moment later a young girl entered the room.
"Miss Southerland, Mr. Gatewood. Will you be kind enough to take Mr. Gatewood's dictation in Room 19?"