"Eh?" says I. "You!"
"Ask the Sergeant over at the Nineteenth," says she. "He ran me out of his precinct because I wouldn't give up enough. Fortune-telling, you know. He wanted twenty a month. Think of that!"
"Never mind the Sarge," says I. "Did you know Mr. Gordon?"
"Pyramid?" says she. "Rather! Back in the '90's, that was. I was in his offices for awhile."
"Oh—ho!" says I. "Then you must be the one. Would you mind givin' me a sketch of the affair?"
Mrs. Shaw shrugs her shoulders under the old cape. "Why should I care now?" says she. "I sprung a breach of promise suit on him, that's all. I might have known better. He was a hard man, Pyramid Gordon. What with lawyers and the private detectives he set after me, I was glad to get out of the city alive. It was two years before I dared come back—and a rough two years they were too! But you're not raking that up against me at this late date, are you?"
"I'm not," says I. "Any move I make will be for your good. But Steele's the man. I'll have to call him in."
"Call away, then," says she. "I ain't afraid of him, either."
And by luck I catches J. Bayard at his hotel and gets him on the 'phone.
"Well?" says I. "How about the fair Josie?"