Lulie Lloyd was under secret surveillance, as was Owen Thorne, the trusted trustee.
This work in the hands of efficient workers was neither difficult nor onerous, and it gave Coe a wide outlook of possibilities when the reports came in.
Nor was Coley himself idle. He could cover a great many occasions denied to his underlings. He could see the Webb ladies in their home surroundings; could call on Allison or Whiting when he chose, could demand an interview with Wallace Courtney however much that busy gentleman might object; and could see Lulie Lloyd any time he cared to invite her out for an evening.
In fact, Lulie was quite taken with the gay young Coe, and small wonder, for he deliberately determined that she should be.
No girl of Lulie Lloyd’s stamp could resist the lure of Coley’s admiring blue eyes, or the fascination of the tossing hair above his brow.
Even Elsie found him so agreeable that her mother said pettishly, “If that young busy-body never succeeds in finding Kim, you might marry him—”
She stopped, a little frightened at the look Elsie gave her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she cried.
“Then never say anything of that sort again,” Elsie warned her, in a severe voice. “I’ve trouble enough, mother, without such thoughtless, heartless speeches from you.”
“Oh, pshaw, Elsie,” spoke up Gerty, “mother didn’t mean anything. If you take it so seriously I shall think you’re really interested in Coley Coe.”