He prowled up and down the room like an anxious bear.
"I don't know. We'll have to get you away somewhere. Oh, Bambina! How could you be such an infernal little fool? Why didn't I look after you better?"
"Poor old Bobs!" said she softly. "How could you know anything about it?"
"One thing you absolutely must not do," he pursued vigorously, "is to go to any of those scoundrelly quacks in the paper."
"It's easy enough to tell me what not to do."
"You've got to go through with it. I'll make the arrangements when the time comes. Just try not to worry any more than you can help."
Pat nodded her assent and farewell. But inwardly her mood was anything but acquiescent. If Bobs, her trusted stand-by of so many years, wouldn't help, well—Outside in the drizzle she drew out the newspaper and scanned the second legend in the discreet looking column. It gave an obscure address in Newark and was signed "Dr. Jelleco."