The option vouchers not yet presented for settlement, and such warehouse receipts as the boy was supposed to have about his person, were not to be found.
In fact, not a document of any kind relating to his trip was in evidence.
“Curse the luck!” exclaimed Carrington, who appeared to be engineering the conspiracy. “We’re euchred after all! What has he done with them?”
Miss Miller, who had been watching the abortive efforts of Guy Dudley with a slight curl on her pretty lips, now spoke.
“Evidently the boy is smarter than you have given him credit for,” she said with a tantalizing laugh. “I suspected it almost from the start. Why, he didn’t give a single thing away the whole time I was doing my best to pump him. You’ll have to try something else, Sid, if you expect to reach results.”
Just then the waiter appeared at the door with the bill.
“What’s the number of your cab, Dudley?” asked Carrington as he handed the attendant a bill.
“No. 206.”
“Call up 206 and 93, waiter, and then you’ll have to help us get our friend here to the walk. Your coffee has been too much for him.”